The matter was only deferred till the next morning, when I was summoned to my mother’s chamber, where she sat up in bed, with her best Flanders-lace nightcap and ruffles on, her coral rosary blessed by the Pope, her snuff-box with the Queen’s portrait, and her big fan that had belonged to Queen Marie de Medicis, so that I knew something serious was in hand; and, besides, my brothers Solivet and Walwyn sat on chairs by the head of her bed.  Margaret was not there.

‘My daughter,’ said my mother, when I had saluted her, and she had signed to me to be seated, ’M. le Comte de Poligny has done you the honour to demand your hand for his son, the Chevalier; and I have accepted his proposals, since by this means the proces will be terminated respecting the estates in Picardy, and he will come to a favourable accommodation with your brother, very important in the present circumstances.’

I suppose she and Solivet expected me to submit myself to my fate like a good little French girl.  What I did was to turn round and exclaim:  ‘Eustace, you have not sold me for this?’

He held out his hand, and said:  ’No, sister.  I have told my mother and brother that my consent depends solely on you.’

Then I felt safe, even when Solivet said: 

’Nor does any well-brought-up daughter speak of her wishes when her parents have decided for her.’

‘You are not my parent, sir,’ I cried; ’you have no authority over me!  Nor am I what you call a well-brought-up girl—­that is, a poor creature without a will!’

‘It is as I always said,’ exclaimed my mother.  ’She will be a scandal.’

But I need not describe the whole conversation, even if I could remember more than the opening.  I believe I behaved very ill, and was in danger of injuring my own cause by my violence; my mother cried, and said I should be a disgrace to the family, and Solivet looked fierce, handled the hilt of his sword, and observed that he should know how to prevent that; and then Eustace took my hands, and said he would speak with me alone, and my mother declared that he would encourage me in my folly and undutifulness; while Solivet added:  ‘Remember we are in earnest.  This is no child’s play!’

A horrible dread had come over me that Eustace was in league with them; for he always imperatively cut me short if I dared to say I was already promised.  I would hardly speak to him when at last he brought me to his own rooms and shut the door; and when he called me his poor Nan, I pushed him away, and said I wanted none of his pity, I could not have thought it of him.

‘You do not think it now,’ he said; and as I looked up into his clear eyes I was ashamed of myself, and could only murmur, what could I think when I saw him sitting there aiding in their cruel manoeuvres, —­all for your own sake, too?