And with a haughty inclination he was about to depart, when the door was suddenly thrown open, and the king, unannounced, entered the cabinet. IV. WHAT PASSED BETWEEN THE KING AND BOURBON. |Evidently, François had expected a very different termination to the interview from that which had occurred. The smile fled from his countenance as he gazed at the pair. “I have found him utterly impracticable,” whispered the duchess. “But you may have better success.” “We shall see,” replied the king, in the same tone. “Leave us alone together.” Casting a look at Bourbon, who haughtily averted his gaze from her, the duchess stepped towards the back of the cabinet and raised the hangings, behind which was a door communicating with her private apartments. Instead of passing through the door, however, she concealed herself behind the arras. “Come, cousin,” said François, approaching the Constable, and leaning good humouredly on his shoulder. “Cast off those moody looks. Have you quarrelled with my mother? If so, I will engage to set the matter right.” “I pray your majesty to let me go,” rejoined Bourbon. “I am scarce master of myself, and: may offend you.” “No, you will not do that,” replied the king. “I have more command of my temper than you have; and besides, I can make allowances for you. But you must not let your pride interfere with your interests.” “The duchess has told me so already, sire,” cried Bourbon, impatiently. “I know what you design to say to me. I know the arguments you would employ. But the match cannot be brought about.” “Answer one question,” said the king. “Is it nothing to be father-in-law to the King of France?” “I am sensible enough of the distinction such an alliance would confer upon me, sire,” replied the Constable. “But, for all that, I must decline it.” “Foi de gentilhomme! fair cousin, you are perverse enough to provoke me, but I will be calm,” said the king, changing his attitude and tone. “Since argument is useless, I must exert my authority. By Saint Denis! the match _shall_ take place. I will have no 'nay' from you. Now you understand.” “I hear what you say, sire,” rejoined Bourbon, sternly. “But you cannot enforce compliance with the injunction. Not even at your bidding will I wed the Duchess d'Angoulême.” “You refuse!--ha?” demanded the king, fiercely. “Absolutely,” replied Bourbon. “I am a prince of the blood.” “What of that?” cried François, yet more highly incensed. “Were you a crowned king, you would not bemean yourself by marriage with my mother. It is she who degrades herself by stooping to you. But this,” he added, checking himself, “cannot be your motive.” “No, sire, it is _not_ my motive,” rejoined Bourbon. “Since you force me to speak, you shall have the truth. I prefer death to dishonour.” “Dishonour!” echoed the king, astounded and enraged. “Dare you breathe such a word in connexion with my mother? What mean you? Speak!”