"This very hour you break this mad allegiance and conduct me home to Beaumanoir.
Or, by the Sorrows of Mary, you and I will never meet again." De Laval did not speak, but stood gazing sadly at the angry loveliness before him.

His own face had grown as stubborn as hers.
"You do not know what you ask," he said at length.

"You would have me forswear my God, and my King, and my manhood." "A fig for such manhood," she cried with ringing scorn.

"If that is a man's devotion, I will end my days in a nunnery.

I will have none of it, I tell you.