ld assert his
right. He had been made to injure and disown the creature he was bound
to protect, and he must console her and compensate to her, were it only
to redeem his honour. He never even thought whether he loved her;
he merely felt furious at the wrong he had suffered and been made to
commit, and hotly bent on recovering what belonged to him. He might even
have plunged down among the ladies and claimed her as his wife, if the
young Abbe de Mericour, who was two years older than he, and far less
of a boy for his years, had not joined him in his agitated walk. He then
learnt that all the court knew that the daughter of the late Marquis
de Nid-de-Merle, Comte de Ribaumont, was called by his chief title, but
that her marriage to himself had been forgotten by some and unknown to
others, and thus that the first error between the cousins had not been
wonderful in a stranger, since the Chevalier's daughter had always been
Mdlle. de Ribaumont. The error once made, Berenger's distaste to Diane
had been so convenient that it had been carefully encouraged, and the
desire to keep him at a distance from court and throw him into the
background was accounted for. The Abbe was almost as indignant as
Berenger, and assured him both of his sympathy and his discretion.

'I see no need for discretion,' said Berenger. 'I shall claim my wife in
the face of the sun.'

'Take counsel first, I entreat,' exclaimed Mericour. 'The Ribaumonts
have much influence with the Guise family, and now you have offended
Monsieur.'

'Ah! Where are those traitorous kinsmen?' cried Berenger.

'Fortunately all are gone on an expedition with the Queen-mother.
You will have time to think. I have heard my brother say no one ever
prospered who offended the meanest follower of the house of Lorraine.'

'I do not want prosperity, I only want my wife. I hope I shall never see
Paris and its deceivers again.'

'Ah! But is it true that you have applied to have the marriage annulled
at Rome?'

'We were both shamefully deceivers. That can be nothing.'

'A decree of