"Pardon me my insistence. What I have to say must be in private and cannot wait."
For a moment Gabrielle rebelled, raising her head proudly and meeting his gaze firmly.
"I repeat, must be in private, mademoiselle," he said, adding as an afterthought: "And it cannot fail to interest you, seeing whom it concerns."
She went then and he followed, maintaining silence until they were alone.
"There must be no misunderstanding between us, my lord," cried Gabrielle, at once throwing down the gauge of defiance. "The Duchess, your wife and my dear friend, has at your instigation made me acquainted with your proposal—a proposal I deem infamous and unholy—and no power you can exert can bring me even to consider it. I pray you spare me the pain of any further reference to it."
"You are wrong to meet me thus at the outset with antagonism. You have heard as yet but one side only, and must bear with me while I speak of the other. I am far from being your enemy, Heaven knows."
"While matters remain as they are, I cannot count your lordship among my friends."
"Those are hard words to hear, mademoiselle. You mean?"
"I mean the slanders you have sanctioned against my cousin and the threats with which you have menaced him. His cause is mine; his enemies are my enemies."
He made a stern, angry gesture, but held his temper in check.
"The Duchess has told you my wishes—that of her own will and at her own desire our marriage should be dissolved, in order that you may become my wife. But my full motive she could not tell you because she does not know it. It is—that I love you, Gabrielle; love, aye, worship the very ground you tread and the very air you breathe. For me all France holds no"
