woman to this man against her will—if indeed in His sight such marriage can be—rather than save my life by such base compliance, I will die not once but ten times! See. I am ready! I will make no defence!” And he opened his arms as if to welcome the stroke. “If there be trickery here, if there has been practising below, where they told me this and that, it shall not avail! Until I hear from Mademoiselle’s own lips that she is willing, I will not say over her so much as Yea, yea, or Nay, nay!”
“She is willing!”
La Tribe turned sharply, and beheld the speaker. It was Count Hannibal, who had entered a few seconds earlier, and had taken his stand within the door.
“She is willing!” Tavannes repeated quietly. And if, in this moment of the fruition of his schemes, he felt his triumph, he masked it under a face of sombre purpose. “Do you doubt me, man?”
“From her own lips!” the other replied, undaunted—and few could say as much—by that harsh presence. “From no other’s!”
“Sirrah, you”
“I can die. And you can no more, my lord!” the minister answered bravely. “You have no threat can move me.”
“I am not sure of that,” Tavannes answered, more blandly. “But had you listened to me and been less anxious to be brave, M. La Tribe, where no danger is, you had learned that here is no call for heroics! Mademoiselle is willing, and will tell you so.”
“With her own lips?”
Count Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “With her own lips, if you will,” he said. And then, advancing a step and addressing her, with unusual gravity, “Mademoiselle de Vrillac,” he said, “you hear what this gentleman requires. Will you be pleased to confirm what I have said?”
