t I shall allow no prompting
from outsiders."

"Madame, do you expect me to sit calmly by and see my friend made a
fool?" He spoke warmly and his eyes remained steadfast.

"Certainly that is what you shall do," coldly.

"Madame, you are a beautiful woman; heaven has endowed you with
something more than beauty. Is it possible that the gods forgot to mix
conscience in the mold?"

"Conscience? Royalty knows none."

"Ah, Madame, wait till you are royal."

"Take care. You have not felt my anger."

"I would rather that than your love."

She marveled at her patience.

"If you have no conscience, Madame, I have. I shall warn him. You shall
not dishonor him if I can prevent it. You wish to win his love, and you
have gauged the possibilities of it so accurately that you know you will
have but to ask, be it his honor or his life. A far finer thing it would
be for you to win your crown at the point of the sword. There would be
a little glory in it then. But even then, the world would laugh at you.
For you would be waging war against a lonely woman, a paralytic king, a
prelate who is a man of peace. What resistance could these three offer?

"But to gain your ends by treachery and deceit, to rob a man of his
brains and heart, laughing the while in your sleeve; to break his life
and make him curse all women, from Eve to you and the mother who bore
him! Ah, Madame, let me plead with you. Give him his liberty. Let him
go back and complete the task imposed on him. Do not break his life,
for life is more than a crown; do not compel him to sully his honor, for
honor is more than life.

"Your cause is just, I will admit, but do not tarnish it by such
detestable means. 'Tis true that a crown to me signifies nothing, but
life and honor are common to us both. With all his strength and courage,
my friend is helpless. All his life he has been without the society of
women. If he should love you--God help him! His love would be without
calculation, without reason, blind and furious. Madame, do not destroy
him."

Sometimes, in the passing, we are stopped by the sound of a voice. It
is not the words it utters, nor the range nor tone. It is something
indefinable, and, though we can not analyze it, we are willing to follow
wherever it leads. Such a voice Maurice possessed, though he was totally
ignorant of its power. But Madame, as she listened, felt its magic
influence, and for a moment the spell rendered her mute.

"Monsieur, you ha