All infamy I come to you for this last time,
Jehane! as a man already dead I come to you, Jehane, for in France
they thirst to murder me, and England has no further need of
Montbrison, her blunted and her filthy instrument!"
The woman nodded here. "You have set my thankless service above your
life, above your honor. I find the rhymester glorious and very vile."
"All vile," he answered; "and outworn! King's daughter, I swore to
you, long since, eternal service. Of love I freely gave you yonder in
Navarre, as yonder at Eltham I crucified my innermost heart for your
delectation. Yet I, at least, keep faith, and in your face I fling
faith like a glove--outworn, it may be, and God knows, unclean! Yet I,
at least, keep faith! Lands and wealth have I given, up for you, O
king's daughter, and life itself have I given you, and lifelong
service have I given you, and all that I had save honor; and at the
last I give you honor, too. Now let the naked fool depart, Jehane, for
he has nothing more to give."
While the Vicomte de Montbrison spoke thus, she had leaned upon the
sill of an open casement.
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