"If Vicomte d'Exmès comes to you, Diane," the constable went on, "it must be because some unexpected difficulties have arisen; and it must be a very desperate emergency to drive him to resort to so desperate a remedy. Now, listen carefully to what I say; and if you follow my instructions to the letter, I will answer for it that your hazardous interference with the king in this matter will be quite unnecessary. Diane, whatever the viscount asks at your hands, refuse it. If he asks what path he shall take, send him in the opposite direction to that in which he wishes to go. If he wants you to say 'yes,' say 'no;' but say 'yes' if he hopes for a negative answer. Be contemptuous with him, and haughty and ill-tempered, the worthy daughter of the fairy Mélusine, from whom you of the family of Poitiers are said to have descended. Do you understand me, Diane, and will you do as I say?" "In every respect, my dear Constable." "Then my fine fellow's threads will be considerably tangled, I fancy. The poor fool, thus to walk right into the jaws of the--" he started to say "she-wolf," but caught himself--"into the jaws of the waives. I leave him to you, Diane; and you must give me a good account of this handsome claimant. Till this evening!" He condescended to kiss Diane's brow, and went out. Vicomte d'Exmès was ushered in by another door. Gabriel saluted Diane most respectfully, while she responded with an impertinent nod. But Gabriel, buckling on his armor for this unequal combat of burning passion against frigid vanity, began calmly enough:-- "Madame," said he, "the step which I have ventured to take with reference to you is a bold one, no doubt, and may seem mad. But sometimes in one's life circumstances come to light of such serious moment as to lift us above the ordinary conventions and every day scruples. Now, I am involved in one of these terrible crises of my destiny, Madame. I, who speak to you, have come to put my life in your hands; and if you let it fall, it will be broken forever." Madame de Valentinois made not the least sign of encouragement. With her body bent forward, resting her chin on her hand, and her elbow on her knee, she gazed at Gabriel with a look of wonder mingled with weariness. "Madame," he resumed, trying to shake off the gloomy effect of this feigned indifference, "you either know or do not know that I love Madame de Castro. I love her, Madame, with a deep, ardent, overpowering love." "What is that to me?" seemed to say Diane de Poitiers's careless smile.