“I wish rather you would practise a little virtue to win me,” she said.

“So I will if you ask it,” he returned, unabashed.  “Lorance, I love you so there is no depth to which I could not stoop to gain you; there is no height to which I cannot rise.  There is no shame so bitter, no danger so awful, that I would not face it for you.  Nor is there any sacrifice I will not make to gain your good will.  I hate M. de Mar above any living man because you have smiled on him; but I will let him go for your sake.  I swear to you before the figure of Our Blessed Lady there that I will drop all enmity to Etienne de Mar.  From this time forward I will neither move against him nor cause others to move against him in any shape or manner, so help me God!”

He dropped her hand to kiss the cross of his sword.  She retreated from him, her face very pale, her breast heaving.

“You make it hard for me to know when you are speaking the truth,” she said.

“May the lightning strike me if I am lying!” Lucas cried.  “May my tongue rot at the root if ever I lie to you, Lorance!”

“Then I am very grateful and glad,” she said gravely, and again curtsied to him.

“Yes, I give you my word for that, too, Lorance,” Mayenne added.  “I have no quarrel with young Mar.  His father has stirred up more trouble for me than any dozen of Huguenots; I have my score to settle with St. Quentin.  But I have no quarrel with the son.  I will not molest him.”

“Grand’merci, monsieur,” she said, sweeping him another of her graceful obeisances.

“Understand me, mademoiselle,” Mayenne went on.  “I pardon him, but not that he may be anything to you.  That time is past.  The St. Quentins are Navarre’s men now, and our enemies.  For your sake I will let Mar alone; but if he come near you again, I will crush him as I would a buzzing fly.”

“That I understand, monsieur,” she answered in a low tone.  “While I live under your roof, I shall not be treacherous to you.  I am a Ligueuse and he is a Kingsman, and there can be nothing between us.  There shall be nothing, monsieur.  I do not swear it, as Paul needs, because I have never lied to you.”

She did not once look at Lucas, yet I think she saw him wince under her stab.  The Duke of Mayenne was right; not even Mlle. de Montluc loved her enemies.

“You are a good girl, Lorance,” Mayenne said.

“Will you let the boy go now, Cousin Charles?” she asked.

“Yes, I will let your boy go,” he made answer.  “But if I do this for you, I shall expect you henceforth to do my bidding.”

“You have called me a good girl, cousin.”

“Aye, so you are.  And there is small need to look so Friday-faced about it.  If I have denied you one lover, I will give you another just as good.”

“Am I Friday-faced?” she said, summoning up a smile.  “Then my looks belie me.  For since you free this poor boy whom I was like to have ruined I take a grateful and happy heart to bed.”