“How?” she asked naively.

They were in such great peril that their tenderest words were devoid of love.

“This evening,” he replied, “I shall offer myself as apprentice to Maitre Cornelius, the king’s silversmith.  I have obtained a letter of recommendation to him which will make him receive me.  His house is next to yours.  Once under the roof of that old thief, I can soon find my way to your apartment by the help of a silken ladder.”

“Oh!” she said, petrified with horror, “if you love me don’t go to Maitre Cornelius.”

“Ah!” he cried, pressing her to his heart with all the force of his youth, “you do indeed love me!”

“Yes,” she said; “are you not my hope?  You are a gentleman, and I confide to you my honor.  Besides,” she added, looking at him with dignity, “I am so unhappy that you would never betray my trust.  But what is the good of all this?  Go, let me die, sooner than that you should enter that house of Maitre Cornelius.  Do you not know that all his apprentices—­”

“Have been hanged,” said the young man, laughing.

“Oh, don’t go; you will be made the victim of some sorcery.”

“I cannot pay too dearly for the joy of serving you,” he said, with a look that made her drop her eyes.

“But my husband?” she said.

“Here is something to put him to sleep,” replied her lover, drawing from his belt a little vial.

“Not for always?” said the countess, trembling.

For all answer the young seigneur made a gesture of horror.

“I would long ago have defied him to mortal combat if he were not so old,” he said.  “God preserve me from ridding you of him in any other way.”

“Forgive me,” said the countess, blushing.  “I am cruelly punished for my sins.  In a moment of despair I thought of killing him, and I feared you might have the same desire.  My sorrow is great that I have never yet been able to confess that wicked thought; but I fear it would be repeated to him and he would avenge it.  I have shamed you,” she continued, distressed by his silence, “I deserve your blame.”

And she broke the vial by flinging it on the floor violently.

“Do not come,” she said, “my husband sleeps lightly; my duty is to wait for the help of Heaven—­that will I do!”

She tried to leave the chapel.

“Ah!” cried the young man, “order me to do so and I will kill him.  You will see me to-night.”

“I was wise to destroy that drug,” she said in a voice that was faint with the pleasure of finding herself so loved.  “The fear of awakening my husband will save us from ourselves.”

“I pledge you my life,” said the young man, pressing her hand.

“If the king is willing, the pope can annul my marriage.  We will then be united,” she said, giving him a look that was full of delightful hopes.

“Monseigneur comes!” cried the page, rushing in.