"A farce to you perhaps," she said earnestly, "but a tragedy to me. I have been rendered wretched and unhappy, Messire, and this despite your protestations of chivalry. I did not seek you, Messire. This marriage was forced upon me. It is ungenerous and cowardly to make me suffer because of it." "Dastardly and abominable," he assented gravely. "Indeed, Madonna, you do me far too much honour even to deign to speak with me. I am not worthy that you should waste a thought on me--but since you have been so kind thus far, will you extend your generosity to me by allowing me to give you my most solemn word--to swear to you if need be that I am not the drunken wretch whom evil tongues have thus described to you. There," he added more lightly, "will you not deign to sit here a moment? You are tired and overwrought; let me get you a cup of wine, and see if some less strenuous talk will chase all those black thoughts from your mind." He took her hand and then with gentle yet forceful pressure led her to the wide hearth and made her sit in the big chair close beside it. "Alas! there are not even embers in the grate," he said, "I fear me, you must be cold." From somewhere out of the darkness--she could not see from where--he brought a footstool for her feet; then he pulled a low chair forward for himself and sat down at some little distance from her, in his favourite attitude, with one elbow on his knee and his face shaded by his hand. She remained silent for a moment or two, for she suddenly felt an extraordinary sense of well-being; just the same as she had felt last night, and once or twice before in his presence. And she felt deeply sorry for him too. After all, perhaps he had no more desired this marriage than she had--and no doubt the furrows on his face came from anxiety and care, and she marvelled what it was that troubled him. "There," he asked gaily, "are you better now, Madonna?" "Better, I thank you," she replied. "Then shall I interpret the thoughts which were coursing behind that smooth brow of yours, when first I startled you by my presence here?" "If you will." He waited a moment, then said dryly: "You desired to convey to me your wish to return to your father.... Oh! only for a little while," he added hastily, seeing that she had made a quick, protesting gesture, "but that was in your mind, was it not?" She could not deny it, and murmured: "Yes." "Such a wish, Madonna," he rejoined, gravely, "is as a command to me. In the late morning the horses will be at your disposal. I will have the honour to accompany you to Brussels." "You, Messire!" she exclaimed, "you would..." "I would do anything to further your wishes, Madonna; this I would have you believe. And a journey to Brussels is such a small matter...."