Count Hannibal - Page 3/231

"Why did you leave me?" she asked. "Why did you leave me, if you could

not come back at once? Do you understand, sir," she continued, "that it

was at your instance I came to Paris, that I came to this Court, and that

I look to you for protection?"

"Surely," he said. "And--"

"And do you think Carlat and his wife fit guardians for me? Should I

have come or thought of coming to this wedding, but for your promise, and

Madame your cousin's? If I had not deemed myself almost your wife," she

continued warmly, "and secure of your protection, should I have come

within a hundred miles of this dreadful city? To which, had I my will,

none of our people should have come."

"Dreadful? Pardieu, not so dreadful," he answered, smiling, and striving

to give the dispute a playful turn. "You have seen more in a week than

you would have seen at Vrillac in a lifetime, Mademoiselle."

"And I choke!" she retorted; "I choke! Do you not see how they look at

us, at us Huguenots, in the street? How they, who live here, point at us

and curse us? How the very dogs scent us out and snarl at our heels, and

the babes cross themselves when we go by? Can you see the Place des

Gastines and not think what stood there? Can you pass the Greve at night

and not fill the air above the river with screams and wailings and

horrible cries--the cries of our people murdered on that spot?" She

paused for breath, recovered herself a little, and in a lower tone, "For

me," she said, "I think of Philippa de Luns by day and by night! The

eaves are a threat to me; the tiles would fall on us had they their will;

the houses nod to--to--"

"To what, Mademoiselle?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders and assuming a

tone of cynicism.

"To crush us! Yes, Monsieur, to crush us!"

"And all this because I left you for a moment?"

"For an hour--or well-nigh an hour," she answered more soberly.

"But if I could not help it?"

"You should have thought of that--before you brought me to Paris,

Monsieur. In these troublous times."

He coloured warmly. "You are unjust, Mademoiselle," he said. "There are

things you forget; in a Court one is not always master of one's self."