"Pardon me, your Majesty--pardon me, dear Pauline," replied De Blenau; "it cannot be. There is no man in France more innocent, in deed, word, or even thought, of treason against his King and Country than I am; and Claude de Blenau flies from no one, so long as his honour and integrity remain by him: when these fail, then he may become a coward. But to these will I now trust, and instantly surrender myself to his Majesty's warrant. I did not interfere while Monseigneur defended the rights of the sanctuary, for he did but the duties of his high office; nor indeed was I willing to yield my sword to a servant of Cardinal Richelieu. Take it, Henry," he continued, unbuckling it from his side, and giving it to the Page; "take it, and keep it for your master." "De Blenau, you are an obstinate man," said the Queen. "I will urge nothing; but look at this pale cheek, and fancy what the feelings of that sweet girl must be." And she pointed to Pauline who stood by with the tears chasing each other down her face. Notwithstanding the firmness with which he spoke, there had been many a bitter pang struggling in De Blenau's breast. The appeal of the Queen, and the sight of Pauline's distress, overcame his calmness; and starting forward, he caught her in his arms and pressed an ardent kiss upon her lips. "Dear, dear Pauline," he exclaimed, "all will go well, be assured. My innocence will protect me." Pauline shook her head mournfully, but her heart was too full to reply. "Then you will not fly?" demanded the Queen, with some degree of impatience. "He is in the right, Madam," said the Bishop. "As a good subject, he is bound to obey the laws of his country; and in duty to himself, he ought not to give weight to the charge against him by seeming afraid to meet it." Anne of Austria turned away with a look of angry disappointment. "Well, at all events," said she, "let us conclude the ceremony which has been thus interrupted, and afterwards the Count can act as he pleases." De Blenau hesitated. He felt that what the Queen proposed, if carried into effect, would be the only consolation he could receive under the new misfortune that had befallen him; but he felt also that it was a selfishness to wish it, and he looked towards the Bishop who had so well supported his first resolution. But Potier bent his eyes gravely on the ground, disapproving the proposal, yet unwilling farther to oppose the Queen. "It shall be as Pauline decides," said De Blenau, taking her hand and raising it gently to his lips. "Pauline," he continued, "you know how deeply I love you; you know how I have longed for the hour that should give me your hand. But I fear that I should be cruelly selfish, were I to ask you to become the bride of one whose fate is so uncertain--Speak, dear Pauline."