This woman with her ungovernable passion and her rash tongue had destroyed everything.
"I see no likelihood of being her daughter's husband," I answered mournfully.
The King looked up, and laughed. "Down on your knees, then," said he, "and render thanks to Heaven."
But I shook my head very soberly. "To Your Majesty it is a pleasing comedy," said I, "but to me, helas! it is nearer far to tragedy."
"Come, Marcel," said he, "may I not laugh a little? One grows so sad with being King of France! Tell me what vexes you."
"Mademoiselle de Lavedan has promised that she will marry me only when I have saved her father from the scaffold. I came to do it, very full of hope, Sire. But his wife has forestalled me and, seemingly, doomed him irrevocably."
His glance fell; his countenance resumed its habitual gloom. Then he looked up again, and in the melancholy depths of his eyes I saw a gleam of something that was very like affection.
"You know that I love you, Marcel," he said gently.
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