The president and counsellors were assembled in full chamber, after receiving a brief but pithy hint from the king, to take care how they crossed his wishes. The clerk of the court was mending his pen with the most assiduous gravity. Saluzzo approached the bar, attended by a lean, sallow notary, and some creatures of the court. At the same moment, Marie de Montespedon, relict of the late Marshal Mont-Jean, entered the hall, leaning on the arm of the redoubted Monsieur de Vieilleville, attended by a gallant train of ladies, lords, and gentlemen. The preliminary forms having been observed the president directed the lady to take the oath of verity with bared and uplifted hands. The first interrogatory put to her was. “Did you ever promise marriage to the noble gentleman, the Marquis of Saluzzo, now in presence?” The blood rushed into the cheeks of the lady; she turned her eyes resolutely upon the marquis, who looked upon the ground, his colour growing blacker and yet more bloodless. She replied in a low whisper, which was heard through the whole hall, “No, by the virtue of mine oath.” The president opened his mouth as if to put another question, and the clerk sharpened his ears, and brought his pen in contact with the paper, but the lady interrupted them, her face glowing crimson, in hurried but distinct words: “Gentlemen! I am not accustomed to such exhibitions. I fear my woman’s wit may be entangled amid your forms and subtleties. I will cut this matter short. Before this noble company I declare as I shall answer to King Francis with my broad lands, and to God with my soul, as I live and regard my honour, I never gave troth, nor faith, nor promise of marriage, to that lying caitiff, nor ever dreamed of such a folly. And if any one call in question this my declaration, here”--she continued, taking Vieilleville by the hand--“here stands my champion, whom I present to maintain my words, which he knows to be true, and from the mouth of a lady of honour, if ever one existed. I place my trust, under God and my good cause, in his valour.” “That alters the case,” said the president, smiling with secret satisfaction at being freed from the necessity of displeasing the king. “Clerk, you may remove your books--there is no more need of writing. The lady has preferred a form of process much more summary than ours. And you, Sir Marquis! What is your pleasure?” Saluzzo had too sincere a respect for his ungainly body to hazard it against Vieilleville. “I will marry no woman by constraint,” he muttered, “If she do not affect me, I can do without her.” As Vieilleville passed through the antechamber, one of the judges accosted him in a low voice. “You have saved yourself a six months’ work, worse than the _corvée_, by this wager of battle. The marquis had a list of forty interrogations for the lady, in which every word she ever spoke to himself or servants, every pressure of his hand, was enumerated.”