No, no, madam,
the nearer you come to it, you see that death is a dark and dusty
corner, where a man gets into his tomb and has the door shut after
him till the judgment day. I have few friends just now, and once I
am dead I shall have none."
"Ah, Monsieur de Beaulieu!" she exclaimed, "you forget Blanche de
Maletroit."
"You have a sweet nature, madam, and you are pleased to estimate a
little service far beyond its worth."
"It is not that," she answered. "You mistake me if you think I am
so easily touched by my own concerns. I say so, because you are
the noblest man I have ever met; because I recognise in you a
spirit that would have made even a common person famous in the
land."
"And yet here I die in a mouse-trap - with no more noise about it
than my own squeaking," answered he.
A look of pain crossed her face, and she was silent for a little
while. Then a fight came into her eyes, and with a smile she spoke
again.
"I cannot have my champion think meanly of himself. Any one who
gives his life for another will be met in Paradise by all the
heralds and angels of the Lord God. And you have no such cause to
hang your head. For . . . Pray, do you think me beautiful?" she
asked, with a deep flush.
"Indeed, madam, I do," he said.
"I am glad of that," she answered heartily. "Do you think there
are many men in France who have been asked in marriage by a
beautiful maiden - with her own lips - and who have refused her to
her face? I know you men would half despise such a triumph; but
believe me, we women know more of what is precious in love.
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