"I have no words," she began, and in her agitation she stretched out her hand, which touched his shoulder. Perhaps it was because she had need of support that it remained pressing gently there.
"Maurice is Duke; Felix will go in safety," he said quietly; "yet my ambition remains unsatisfied. I crave your thanks. Is it well done?"
"You shall not kneel to me," she whispered.
"In St. Etienne I must needs have knelt to receive the iron crown. My ambition mounts higher than that. I think you hated the Duke; I thought once it was not hate you gave to Roger Herrick."
She bent over him, a hand on each of his shoulders now.
"And to-day," she whispered, "to-day my heart cried louder than all: Roger is Duke. Long life to Duke Roger."
"Crown me, Christine."
"You shall not kneel to me," she said. "I too am proud. I will not bargain with you in this fashion."
"Crown me."
Her hands clasped about his neck.
"Oh, my dearest, if my poor love is the crown you covet, take it, wear it, be my king."
Then Herrick rose. His strong arms were about her; his kiss was on her lips.
"You have crowned me king," he whispered. "You are fettered in these arms. You are still my prisoner, and I will not let you go."
[Ill.u.s.tration: _His strong arms were about her._]
CHAPTER x.x.xI
DUKE AND SUBJECTS
Without delay the Duke wore the iron crown in St. Etienne, and the city decked itself in wreaths and garlands, and shouted itself hoa.r.s.e.
Some shouted for the Duke, but more for Roger Herrick, who rode close behind him.
Maurice had been called to perform no easy task, to win a love that had been given to another. Herrick had become a popular idol, and it was but natural that a great wave of regret should sweep through Vayenne at his resignation. The people looked coldly upon the new Duke, and were inclined to resent his coming at this eleventh hour. At first it seemed probable that a certain section of them would rise in rebellion, but this did not happen; only there was discontent in the city, and murmuring even in the castle. The face of Gaspard Lemasle wore a settled frown, and Pierre Briant"s outlook upon life became a dismal one. It was a long time before they ceased to speak of Herrick as the Duke.
Herrick strove to obliterate himself as much as possible, but he was Maurice"s constant adviser. At his suggestion the Council of n.o.bles was made a permanent a.s.sembly--it served to bind the powerful men in the country to the throne--and many concessions and privileges were granted to the citizens which Maurice"s father had always refused to grant. The rumor was allowed to go forth that even Herrick would not have made such concessions; they were entirely due to Duke Maurice.
Maurice himself labored bravely at his difficult task. He a.s.serted himself with dignity. The people began to admire the strong, young figure which so often rode through the streets. He tried to prove that he was a Duke worthy of love and respect, and success came, if it came slowly.
Herrick had literally wrung the gift of Felix"s life from the people, but this did not prevent a wild outburst of popular feeling when the Count left the city. He was taken out at night under a strong escort; but the news of his going had leaked out, and instead of going to bed, Vayenne stayed up to curse the man it hated as he pa.s.sed through it for the last time. It was said that the Count had sent to the Countess Elisabeth asking her to follow him into banishment, and that she had refused. She remained in Vayenne, in the house in the Place Beauvoisin, the beautiful Countess still, with a romance in her life which accounted for her loneliness, and the hair whitened before its time. Yet no one seemed certain what that romance was.
But this is a step into the future before the present is done with.
There was another rumor in Vayenne which pleased the people. The Duke was to marry before the year was out. The prince, pa.s.sing all others, had come to kneel at the feet of Lucille. The last of that family so long under a cloud was destined to win back place and power, and to become d.u.c.h.ess of Montvilliers.
It had been known in the city for some time that Roger Herrick was to marry Christine de Liancourt. t.i.tles and honors and wealth had been showered upon Herrick. He was a prince in the land, second only to the Duke. Some, Gaspard Lemasle and Pierre Briant among the number, would not subscribe even to this reservation.
They were married in the great Church of St. Etienne, and the whole city shouted G.o.d speed and happiness to them.
"I would they were Duke and d.u.c.h.ess," some whispered on their homeward way; and Gaspard Lemasle drank a deep health to them that night with a like thought in his mind.
And now that the Duke was becoming firmly seated upon his throne, Herrick declared that it would be wise for him and Christine to go away for a little while after their marriage.
"We shall be back for your wedding," he told Maurice, "and my absence will help to strengthen your position. Besides, I want to show Christine what a very unimportant man I really am out of Montvilliers."
So they departed one sunny morning, an escort with them. Herrick had asked in vain to be allowed to go as a private person. At the brow of the hill he stopped the carriage for a moment.
"It was from this spot that I first saw the city of my dreams," he said.
Christine"s hand stole into his.
"And now you have awakened in it," she said, "lived in it, ruled it, and----"
"And found love in it," he whispered.
Faintly on the breeze came the music of the carillon. Time pa.s.seth into Eternity, and Time is a small matter, it laughed softly.
"And found love," Herrick repeated.
Then the carriage went on, descending slowly toward that long, straight road which leads to the frontier.