In that tired way of his that was so pathetic: "Do you love me a
little, Marcel?" he asked.

"Sire," I exclaimed, wondering whither all this was leading us,
"need I protest it?"

"No," he answered dryly; "you can prove it. Prove it by
abandoning this Languedoc quest. I have motives - sound motives,
motives of political import. I desire another wedding for
Mademoiselle de Lavedan. I wish it so, Bardelys, and I look to
be obeyed."

For a moment temptation had me by the throat. Here was an
unlooked-for chance to shake from me a business which reflection
was already rendering odious. I had but to call together my
friends of yesternight, and with them the Comte de Chatellerault,
and inform them that by the King was I forbidden to go awooing
Roxalanne de Lavedan. So should my wager be dissolved. And then
in a flash I saw how they would sneer one and all, and how they
would think that I had caught avidly at this opportunity of
freeing myself from an undertaking into which a boastful mood had
lured me. The fear of that swept aside my momentary hesitation.

"Sire," I answered, bending my head contritely, "I am desolated
that my inclinations should run counter to your wishes, but to your
wonted kindness and clemency I must look for forgiveness if these
same inclinations drive me so relentlessly that I may not now
turn back."

He caught me viciously by the arm and looked sharply into my