She, well-nigh beside herself, exclaimed in a
thin, high voice,--
"Ah, ah, Duke, thou dost kill me--I must hasten away from thee. I must
go." She spurred her horse; but the Duke caught the rein and held it
fast.
"Nay, nay, thou shalt not yet be gone. Wouldst thou be so cruel to
leave me now at Love's first onset? I will not have it!"
"But I must hasten,--I am riding alone, and some one will be sent for
me if I do not soon return to the castle."
"Thou must give me promise first, sweet one!"
"Promise,--promise of what?" and she listened eagerly to his next
words.
"Dost thou not covet a Prince's favour?" Constance' heart fluttered
mightily, and she thought--"A fig for Cedric's love of me. He loves
not at all, compared with this man's warm passion. Cedric loves me not
at all, anyway. I will be a Prince's favourite," and she answered,--
"I never covet that which is beyond my reach." 'Tis often a true thing
that when we sit within our dark and dismal chamber without comfort,
hope or happy retrospection, there stands upon the threshold a joyous
phenomenon of which we have never so much as dreamt as being in
existence; and this had come to Constance.
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