Even if the virtue and purity that I value more highly than life itself were not against it, I should still feel myself obliged to decline this dangerous honour." "Deign to look upon me with favour and indulgence, my sweet Isabelle," continued Vallombreuse, without heeding her words, "and I will make you an object of envy to the greatest and noblest ladies in all France.

To any other woman I should say--take what you please of my treasures--my chateaux, my estates, my gold, my jewels--dress your lackeys in liveries richer than the court costumes of princes--have your horses shod with silver--live as luxuriously as a queen--make even Paris wonder at your lavish splendour if you will--though Paris is not easily roused to wonder--but I well know that you have a soul far above all such sordid temptations as these.

They would have no weight with you, my noble Isabelle! But there IS a glory that may touch you--that of having conquered Vallombreuse--of leading him captive behind your chariot wheels--of commanding him as your servant, and your slave.

Vallombreuse, who has never yielded before--who has been the commander, not the commanded--and whose proud neck has never yet bowed to wear the fetters that so many fair bands have essayed to fasten round it." "Such a captive would be too illustrious for my chains," said Isabelle, firmly, "and as I could never consent to accept so much honour at your hands, my lord, I pray you to desist, and relieve me of your presence." Hitherto the Duke of Vallombreuse had managed to keep his temper under control; he had artfully concealed his naturally violent and domineering spirit under a feigned mildness and humility, but, at Isabelle's determined and continued--though modest and respectful--resistance to his pleading, his anger was rapidly rising to boiling point.

He felt that there was love--devoted love--for another behind her persistent rejection of his suit, and his wrath and jealousy augmented each other.