Oh, no, sire! Since God himself is merciful, you need Not fear! Have pity! Two young, thoughtless men, Pushed by this duel o'er a precipice To die! Good God! to die upon the gallows! You will have pity, won't you? I don't know How people talk to kings--I'm but a woman; To weep so much perhaps is wrong. But oh, A monster is that cardinal of yours. Why does he hate them? They did naught to him. He never saw my Didier. All who do Must love him! They're so young--these two! To die For just a duel! Think about their mothers. Oh, it is horrible! You will not do it, sire! We women cannot talk as well as men. We've only cries and tears and knees, which bend And totter as kings turn their eyes on us. They were in fault, of course! But if they broke Your law, you can forgive it! What is youth? Young people are so heedless! For a look, A word, a trifle, anything or nothing, They always lose their heads like that! Such things Are happening every day. Each noble, here, He knows it. Ask them, sire! Is it not true, My lords? Oh, frightful hour of agony! To know with one word you can save two lives! I'd love you all my life, sire, if you would Have mercy--mercy, God! If I knew how, I'd talk so that you'd have to say that word. You'd pardon them; you'd say, "I must console That woman, for her Didier is her soul." I suffocate, sire. Pity, pity me! THE KING. Who is this woman? MARION. She's a sister, sire, Who trembles at your feet. You owe something Unto your people! THE KING. Yes! I owe myself To them, and dueling does grievous harm. MARION. You should have pity! THE KING. And obedience, too! MARQUIS DE NANGIS. Two boys of twenty years! Think of it well! Their years together are but half of mine! MARION. Your Majesty, you have a mother, wife, A son--some one at least who's dear to you! A brother? Then have pity for a sister! THE KING. No, I have not a brother! [_Reflects a moment._ Yes, _Monsieur_! [_Perceiving the escort of Marquis de Nangis._ Well, my lord marquis, what is this brigade? Are we besieged, or off to the Crusades? To bring your guards thus boldly in my sight, Are you a duke and peer? MARQUIS DE NANGIS. I'm better, sire, Than any duke and peer, created for mere show! I'm Breton baron of four baronies. DUKE DE BELLEGARDE (_aside_). His pride is great, and here, unfortunate! THE KING. Good! To your manors carry back your rights, And leave us ours within our own domain. We are justiciary! MARQUIS DE NANGIS (_shuddering_). Sire, reflect! Think of their age, their expiated fault! [_Falling on his knees._ The pride of an old man, who, prostrate, kneels! Have mercy! [_The King makes an abrupt sign of anger and refusal._