"Jealous!" said the princess, haughtily, "jealous of La Valliere!"

She expected to see De Guiche yield beneath her scornful gesture and her
proud tone; but he simply and boldly replied, "Jealous of La Valliere;
yes, Madame."

"Am I to suppose, monsieur," she stammered out, "that your object is to
insult me?"

"It is not possible, Madame," replied the comte, slightly agitated, but
resolved to master that fiery nature.

"Leave the room!" said the princess, thoroughly exasperated, De Guiche's
coolness and silent respect having made her completely lose her temper.

De Guiche fell back a step, bowed slowly, but with great respect, drew
himself up, looking as white as his lace cuffs, and, in a voice slightly
trembling, said, "It was hardly worth while to have hurried here to be
subjected to this unmerited disgrace." And he turned away with hasty
steps.

He had scarcely gone half a dozen paces when Madame darted like a tigress
after him, seized him by the cuff, and making him turn round again, said,
trembling with passion as she did so, "The respect you pretend to have is
more insulting than the insult itself. Insult me, if you please, but at
least speak."

"Madame," said the comte, gently, as he drew his sword, "thrust this
blade into my heart, rather than kill me by degrees."