"I give you my word of honor," he said.
Messire de Maletroit bowed, and proceeded to limp about the apartment,
clearing his throat the while with that odd musical chirp which had
already grown so irritating in the ears of Denis de Bealieu. He first
possessed himself of some papers which lay upon the table; then he
went to the mouth of the passage and appeared to give an order to the
men behind the arras; and lastly he hobbled out through the door by
which Denis had come in, turning upon the threshold to address a last
smiling bow to the young couple, and followed by the chaplain with a
hand lamp.
No sooner were they alone than Blanche advanced toward Denis with her
hands extended. Her face was flushed and excited, and her eyes shone
with tears.
"You shall not die!" she cried, "you shall marry me after all."
"You seem to think, madam," replied Denis, "that I stand much in fear
of death."
"Oh, no, no," she said, "I see you are no poltroon[8]. It is for my
own sake--I could not bear to have you slain for such a scruple."
"I am afraid," returned Denis, "that you underrate the difficulty,
madam. What you may be too generous to refuse, I may be too proud to
accept. In a moment of noble feeling toward me, you forget what you
perhaps owe to others."
He had the decency to keep his eyes on the floor as he said this, and
after he had finished, so as not to spy upon her confusion.
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