"Excuse me, my cousin, my royal dignity, the splendour of my Court, the esteem of every crowned head in Europe are implicated. You seem to forget that you are born a _daughter of France_. But, madame, I remember it, and I shall shield my royal name from dishonour!" Overcome as was Mademoiselle, she perceived the mistake she had made. Her brain reeled, her limbs quivered convulsively, but she staggered to her feet. "Oh, sire, hear me!" she cried. "Let me implore you," and she threw herself before him and clasped his knees, "do not, do not forbid me to marry my beloved Lauzun? No ordinary rule applies to him. Lauzun is good, great, heroic! Oh! who would become a royal position like Lauzun?" Louis did not reply. Having sufficiently asserted his dignity, he no longer restrained his kindlier feelings. He put his arms round his cousin, and tried to raise her from the ground. "No, no; let me kneel," cried she passionately, clinging to him, "until you have recalled those dreadful words. Sire, I have ever respected and loved you. I have lived beside you as a sister. Do not—oh! do not make my life desolate. For God's sake, let me spend it with the only man I ever loved! A man so made to love. Kill me! kill me! my cousin," and she wrung her hands convulsively; "but, if I am to live, let me live with Lauzun. I cannot—I will not give him up!" Louis rose from the arm-chair on which he was seated. He knelt on the floor by her side. He again took her in his arms, and laying her head upon his breast, he soothed her like a child. Big tears rolled down his cheeks. He called her by every endearing name to comfort her. He did all, save consent to her marriage. Mademoiselle was drowned in tears. Vainly did she, turning her swollen eyes upon the King, who soothed her so fondly, strain her ears to hear that one little word which was to dry them. She listened in vain; that word was never to be spoken. At last, faint with emotion, she signed to the King to raise her up, which he did, placing her on a chair. He kissed her burning forehead, and pressed her dry hands in his. "My cousin," he said, "do not blame me. Rather blame yourself. Why did you not take my advice? I told you to lose no time. To marry at once. You should have done so. Why did you give me time to reflect—time for others to reflect? You ought to have obeyed me." Mademoiselle dared not confess that it was Lauzun's fault she had not done so, but at this recollection a fresh burst of grief choked her utterance. "Alas, Sire," she moaned at last, "when did you ever break your word before? Could I believe you would begin with me? To break your word, too, in such a manner!" As Louis listened to her, he knit his brows, and looked gloomy and embarrassed. "I am not my own master," he replied coldly, "in affairs touching my house and the honour of my race."