"Queen?" I said, "God forbid!"
"It would be a disgrace to France?" he whispered; and he laid
his hand on my arm, and looked eagerly into my face.
"Yes," I said.
"A blot on his fame?"
I nodded.
"A--a slur on a score of noble families?"
I could not deny it.
"Then--is it not worth while to avoid all that?" he murmured,
his face pale, and his small eyes glued to mine. "Is it not
worth a little--sacrifice, M. de Rosny?"
"And risk?" I said. "Possibly."
While the words were still on my lips, something stirred close to
us, behind the yew hedge beside which we were standing. Perrot
darted in a moment to the opening, and I after him. We were just
in time to catch a glimpse of a figure disappearing round the
corner of the house. "Well," I said grimly, "what about being
overheard now?"
M. de Perrot wiped his face. "Thank Heaven!" he said, "it was
only my son. Now let me explain to you--"
But our hasty movement had caught the King's eye, and he came
towards us, covering himself as he approached.
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