His complexion was pale, but it was not the sickly pallor of an invalid, but rather the scholarly reflection from books.
For a moment the young man stood by the bedside of the dying Princess in silence. Then he said:
“We meet once more, Madame la Princesse. Tell me your commands quickly, that I may leave this place so full of sad remembrances.”
“Francis, I have summoned you to beg of you to return to the one true fold. You know that I love you, and your soul's salvation is dear to my heart. My fortune is at your disposal if you will only renounce your Huguenot doctrines. Will you not grant my dying request?”
“Dear madam,” said the young man with emotion, “your words affect me deeply, but my duty to God and my own conscience must precede my duty to a man. I do not desire your money. I am a Protestant and shall always remain so. Is it possible that you do not know who I am?” He stooped and whispered a name in her ear. The effect was startling. With a shriek the Princess cried: “You, that vile, blasphemous preacher! Holy Mother! this is too much!” With a groan she sank fainting upon her pillows.
Monseigneur Ryder and the nurse hearing the Princess cry out, hurried to the bedside. The latter administered a strong stimulant, but it was in vain. The last great change was stealing over the face of
