“You are mistaken, Madam,” rejoined Philip, sternly. “I have never ceased to love you. I cannot regard you with indifference—even though you deserve that I should do so. You are necessary to my happiness. You must—you shall be mine.” “Never!” exclaimed Constance, energetically. “Hear me,” pursued the King; “you are now wholly in my power. Having found you, be assured I shall not part with you again. I am willing to excuse your conduct—to pardon your lover’s disobedience and deceit—nay, more, to continue my favour towards him—but this consideration on my part must be met by complaisance on yours.” “I reject the proposal without a moment’s hesitation, Sire,” cried Constance, with scorn. “Then mark what I have to say further,” rejoined Philip. “I repeat, you are wholly in my power. Nothing can deliver you. On your decision hangs your lover’s life. You—you will cause his immediate arrest—his imprisonment, torture—ay, torture—and death.” “Oh, say not so, Sire!” she cried, all her firmness deserting her. “What has he done to deserve such barbarous treatment?” “He has dared to disobey me,” rejoined Philip. “He has stepped between me and the object of my desires. But for your sake I am content to forego revenge—nay, to heap greater favours on his head. Will you cast him into a dungeon? Will you doom him to torture and death?” “I cannot save him by the sacrifice you propose, Sire,” she rejoined, in tones of anguish. “Neither would he consent to be so saved.” “You have avouched the truth, Constance,” exclaimed Osbert, springing through the open window, and placing himself between her and the King. “A thousand deaths rather than such a sacrifice.” “My clemency, I find, is thrown away,” said Philip, haughtily. “Yet I will give you a few minutes for reflection. Perhaps your resolution may change.” And he moved towards the window. “It is needless, Sire,” rejoined Osbert. “Our determination is taken.” “Then prepare to part for ever,” said Philip, sternly. “As to you, audacious and insensate traitor, you shall learn whose anger you have braved. It will be small alleviation, methinks, to your imprisonment to know that your mistress is in my power.” “Fear not the threat, Osbert,” said Constance. “I will never yield to him.” “I do not ask your consent,” rejoined Philip, derisively. “You are caught in a net from which there is no escape.” “Sooner than this shall be, my sword shall free the country from a tyrant,” cried Osbert, plucking his rapier from its sheath. “Ha! do you dare to raise your hand against me, traitor?” exclaimed Philip, stepping towards him, while Constance flung her arms about her lover, so as to prevent any movement on his part. “Let him go,” continued the King, after a pause, during which he sternly regarded the pair. “He wants the courage to play the assassin.” “You are right, Sire,” rejoined Osbert. “Draw, and defend your life.”