A child's clear voice awoke him from his mournful revery. At the end of the grove his wife appeared, leading his little daughter Adelaide by the hand. As soon as she perceived her father, she ran towards him, but suddenly stopped at a short distance with an air of indecision and doubt. "Well, well! little one, come on!" said Henry, forcing a smile. The child obeyed, but it was plain that she did not feel at ease, for she looked anxiously towards her mother. Henry seemed annoyed as Clemence seated herself beside him, but although the noble woman had remarked his grave and troubled expression and divined its cause, her strong will concealed her sad emotions. "Father, why do you always wear these iron clothes?" said the child, playing with the rings of his coat of mail. "Because it is necessary in time of war, my child. Would you not like to have one like it? See how it shines and sparkles!" "No, father; it is too hard and stiff; I like my mother's dresses better." "If you were a boy, instead of a little girl, it would please you more." These words produced a strange effect upon the infant. She first turned towards Clemence who seemed ready to burst into tears, and then threw her arms around her father's neck, as if to prevent him reproaching her mother. "I want to be a boy, father!" said Adelaide, laughing through her tears. "You do, do you? and what for?" "So that my mother may not cry any more!" "Nonsense, little chatterbox; why should your mother cry?" "Oh yes, she does cry, and a great deal too; only when you come, she dries her eyes, and smiles." The Duke was touched; these artless words from the mouth of his child contained a reproach which shamed him. Until then, he had never spoken to his wife of the proposed divorce, and even now, although the opportunity seemed favorable, he hesitated, for the consciousness of his injustice deprived him of his courage. Clemence read his thoughts, and a mingling of love for her husband and pity for his weakness, joined to a faint hope that, even yet, he might be weaned from his determination, decided her to speak. "Dear Henry," she began, "a wife's duty is to watch and pray, whenever a danger menaces her lord. I can no longer remain silent in the presence of the schemers who seek to beguile you. The sinful projects of the chancellor Rinaldo will destroy your eternal soul. Believe me, no motive can excuse an evil deed; nothing can make innocent that which the laws of God forbid. I am ready, if it were possible, to make any sacrifice to your happiness, even were my heart to break in the attempt!" Tears choked her further utterance; but the Duke well knew that her words were not an idle speech, but that they were dictated by true and sincere affection.