"But not such as these," replied Clémence, "not such as these. But I will not keep you in suspense, for that is worse than all now. The task, though a painful one, has been of my own seeking. First, Monsieur de Morseiul, to speak of that which I know is dearest to your heart--your religious liberty is in danger--it is more than in danger--it is at an end. The whole resolutions of the court are now made known--at least, amongst the principal Catholics of France. The reformed church is to be swept away--there is no longer to be any but one religion tolerated throughout the kingdom--your temples are to be overthrown--your ministers to be forbidden, on pain of death, to worship God as their forefathers have done--the edict of Nantes is to be revoked entirely;" and, clasping her hands together, she gazed in his face, while she added, in a low, tremulous, but distinct, voice, "you are to be driven to the mass at the point of the pike--your children are to be taken from you to be educated in another faith!" Till she uttered the last words Albert de Morseiul had remained with his eyes bent upon the ground, though deep feelings of agitation were evident in every line of his fine countenance. But when she spoke of the Protestants being driven to mass at the point of the pike, and their children being taken from them to be educated in the Catholic religion, he threw back his head, gazing up to heaven with a look of firm determination, while his left hand, by a natural movement, fell upon the hilt of his sword. Clémence de Marly, as he did so, gazed upon him earnestly through the tears that were still in her eyes, and then exclaimed, as she saw how terribly moved he was, "These are dreadful tidings for me to tell Monsieur de Morseiul; you must hate me, I am sure you must hate me!" "Hate you?" exclaimed the Count, clasping both her hands in his, while in that agitating moment--carried away by the strength of his own feelings, and by the tokens she displayed of deep interest in him and his--every barrier gave way before the passion of his heart. "Hate you? oh God! I love you but too well, too deeply--better, more deeply, than you can ever know, or divine, or dream of!"