"More sacred than the power of kings," I said.
"Preacher!" said she, with a smile. "You should give yourself to the church."
"I can do better with the sword of steel," I said.
"But do not be sad. Cheer up, dear fellow!" she went on, patting my elbow with a pretty mockery. "We women are not—not so bad. When I find the man I love—"
Her voice faltered as she began fussing with her stirrup.
I turned with a look of inquiry, changing quickly to one of admiration.
"I shall make him love me, if I can," she went on soberly.
"And if he does?" I queried, my blood quickening as our eyes met.
"Dieu! I would do anything for him," said she.
I turned away, looking off at the brown fields. Ah, then, for a breath, my heart begged my will for utterance. The first word passed my lips when there came a sound of galloping hoofs and Thérèse and the marquis.
