But by doing so he would give her up to the welcome embraces of Gabriel d'Exmès, and the Briton could never find in his heart sufficient strength and courage to make so great a sacrifice possible. "No! no!" he would say to himself, "if she will not be mine, at all events she shall belong to nobody else!" While he was thus irresolute and suffering, the days and weeks rolled away. On the 31st of December, 1557, Lord Wentworth had succeeded in making his way into Madame de Castro's apartments. We have said before that he could scarcely breathe elsewhere, although he always left her more melancholy and more in love than ever; but to see Diane, stern though her glance might be, and to hear her voice, however ironical its tones, had become the most imperious necessity for him. He remained standing while they talked, and she sat before the high chimney-piece. They talked upon the one harrowing subject which united them and kept them asunder at the same time. "Suppose, Madame," said the passionate governor, "that at last, beside myself on account of your cruelty, and enraged by your contempt, I should forget that I am a gentleman and your host?" "You would dishonor yourself, my Lord, but would cast no stain upon me," Diane replied firmly. "We shall be dishonored together," Lord Wentworth retorted. "You are in my power! Where will you find shelter?" "_Mon Dieu_! in death," she calmly replied. Lord Wentworth turned pale and shuddered. That he should cause the death of such as Diane! "Such obstinacy is not natural," he added, shaking his head. "In reality you would be afraid to drive me to extremities, if you did not still cling to some insane hope, Madame. You are always dwelling upon the happening of some impossible event. Come, tell me, from whom can you be expecting succor at this hour?" "From God, from the king--" Diane replied. There was a sort of rising inflection in her voice and in her thought as well,--a hesitation which Lord Wentworth knew only too well how to interpret. "She is doubtless thinking of that d'Exmès," he said to himself. But it was a dangerous memory which he did not dare to touch upon or to arouse. He contented himself with the bitter rejoinder,-- "Yes, count upon the king and upon God! But if God had thought fit to help you, Madame. He would have come to your rescue the very first day, I should think! and here a year has passed away, ending to-day, during which you have not felt the benefit of His protection." "Then I will rest my hopes on the year which begins to-morrow," replied Diane, raising her lovely eyes to heaven, as if imploring aid from on high. "As for the King of France, your father," Lord Wentworth continued, "I imagine that he has on hand matters of sufficient moment to occupy all his power and engross the whole of his thoughts. France is in even greater peril than his daughter." "Ah, it is you who say that!" Diane retorted in a tone of doubt.