"Reassure yourself, madame," answered the squire, who had attentively
observed the prince; "she can come. My lord will restrain himself."

"Then go--go quickly, my old friend."

"Yes, my lord; I ask but for a moment--one is not made of iron," said the
good man, wiping away the traces of his tears; "she must not see that I
have been weeping."

"Excellent man!" replied Rudolph, cordially pressing his hand.

"I am ready. I did not wish to pass through the servants' lines all in
tears, like a Magadalen. But what shall I say?"

"Yes, what shall he say?" demanded the prince from Clemence.

"That M. Ruldolph wishes to see her--nothing more, it seems to me."

"Undoubtedly. Say that M. Rudolph wishes to see her, nothing more. Come,
go--go."

"It is certainly the very best thing that can be said to her," answered the
squire. "I will merely say that M. Rudolph wishes to see her; that will not
cause her to conjecture anything--to foresee anything: it is the most
reasonable way, truly."

But Sir Walter did not stir.

"Sir Walter," said Clemence, smiling, "you are afraid."