“A just and proper sentence,” remarked François. “All the others should have been served in like manner.” “It rests with your majesty to appoint the day for Saint-Vallier's execution,” said the messenger. “I will think of it,” replied François. And the messenger quitted the presence. Shortly afterwards, another messenger arrived, bringing a letter from the Duchesse d'Angoulême to the king, her son, in which she urged him not to show any clemency to Saint-Vallier. “Be firm on this point,” she wrote. “Too much leniency has been shown towards the conspirators by the Parliament, and if a severe example be not made of some of them, it will be an incitement to rebellion. Strong efforts, I know, will be made to induce you to pardon Saint-Vallier, but do not yield to the solicitations. The Chancellor Duprat concurs with me in opinion.” “Shall I take back an answer from your majesty?” said the messenger. “Say to her highness that I will attend to her counsel,” replied the king, dismissing the messenger. Somewhat later in the day, while the king was still in his chamber he was informed by an usher that the Comtesse de Maulévrier had just arrived at the château, and besought an immediate interview with him. François at once granted the request, and Diane de Poitiers was ushered into his presence. Her lovely features bore traces of profound affliction. At a sign from the king, the usher immediately withdrew, and left them alone. “You will readily divine my errand, sire,” cried Diane, throwing herself on her knees before him, in spite of his efforts to prevent her. “You know that my unfortunate father has been condemned by the Parliament to torture and to death by the headsman's hand. Have compassion on him, sire--spare him--for my sake!” “Rise, Diane, and listen to me,” said François. “My heart prompts me to yield to your solicitations, but, were I to do so, my clemency would be misconstrued. The Comte de Saint-Vallier having been found guilty of lèse-majesté and rebellion by the solemn tribunal at which he has been placed, I am compelled to confirm the sentence passed upon him. Bourbon's revolt has steeled my breast to pity. Your father was the traitor's chief friend and counsellor.” “As such, sire, he strove to dissuade the duke from his design,” she cried. “The Parliament can have had no proof of that beyond your father's affirmation,” said the king. “On the contrary, they believe him to be deeper dyed in treason than the rest of the conspirators.” “My father's judges have been unjust, sire,” she rejoined; “but I see it is in vain to convince you of his innocence. You are determined to wreak your vengeance upon him, in order that the blow may be felt by Bourbon. The answer you have given me is little in accordance with your former language.” “You ask what I cannot grant, Diane. Why torture me thus?” “I will torture you no more. Adieu, sire! I quit your presence never to re-enter it.”