"Very well," he said, "from their point of view, they are quite right. But, if I don't go to them, they will come here. That door won't stop them.... Nor you, I'm thinking. Therefore, it's better to have done with it." "Follow me," commanded Angelique. She took up the lamp that lit the room, went into her bedroom, pushed aside the wardrobe, which slid easily on hidden castors, pulled back an old tapestry-hanging, and said: "Here is a door that has not been used for years. My father believes the key to be lost. I have it here. Unlock the door with it. A staircase in the wall will take you to the bottom of the tower. You need only draw the bolts of another door and you will be free." He could hardly believe his ears. Suddenly, he grasped the meaning of Angelique's whole behaviour. In front of that sad, plain, but wonderfully gentle face, he stood for a moment discountenanced, almost abashed. He no longer thought of laughing. A feeling of respect, mingled with remorse and kindness, overcame him. "Why are you saving me?" he whispered. "You are my husband." He protested: "No, no ... I have stolen that title. The law will never recognize my marriage." "My father does not want a scandal," she said. "Just so," he replied, sharply, "just so. I foresaw that; and that was why I had your cousin d'Emboise near at hand. Once I disappear, he becomes your husband. He is the man you have married in the eyes of men." "You are the man I have married in the eyes of the Church." "The Church! The Church! There are means of arranging matters with the Church.... Your marriage can be annulled." "On what pretext that we can admit?" He remained silent, thinking over all those points which he had not considered, all those points which were trivial and absurd for him, but which were serious for her, and he repeated several times: "This is terrible ... this is terrible.... I should have anticipated...." And, suddenly, seized with an idea, he clapped his hands and cried: "There, I have it! I'm hand in glove with one of the chief figures at the Vatican. The Pope never refuses me anything. I shall obtain an audience and I have no doubt that the Holy Father, moved by my entreaties...." His plan was so humorous and his delight so artless that Angelique could not help smiling; and she said: "I am your wife in the eyes of God." She gave him a look that showed neither scorn nor animosity, nor even anger; and he realized that she omitted to see in him the outlaw and the evil-doer and remembered only the man who was her husband and to whom the priest had bound her until the hour of death. He took a step toward her and observed her more attentively. She did not lower her eyes at first. But she blushed. And never had he seen so pathetic a face, marked with such modesty and such dignity. He said to her, as on that first evening in Paris: "Oh, your eyes ... the calm and sadness of your eyes ... the beauty of your eyes!" She dropped her head and stammered: