"Long live Duke Roger!" cried Jean, who still stood in the embrasure of the window. "Long live the Duke!"
The cry was taken up by Lemasle and his followers in the hall, and immediately was roared along the corridors, now filled with the men who had followed Pierre Briant into the court-yard. It was no uncertain sound, and not a dissentient voice made itself heard. Even Felix remained silent, and he remembered with sudden fear how Jean had spoken of a Count once who was hanged over the great gate.
"It is the voice of the people," said Father Bertrand, standing by the chair of state in which every Duke of Montvilliers had been crowned. "Roger Herrick, I demand by what right you claim to ascend this throne."
"By right of birth," he answered, his eyes upon Christine.
"Roger Herrick, I charge you, is there any reason known to you which makes your claim a false one?"
"There is no reason," he answered, still with his eyes upon Christine.
"Roger Herrick, do you swear to govern this land according to the same laws of right and liberty by which it has heretofore been governed, and to hold the welfare of your people as a sacred trust?"
"I swear to do this," said Herrick, and then facing the excited crowd he cried: "Is there any here who would question me?"
The sudden silence remained unbroken, and with a firm step Herrick ascended the dais, and seated himself in the chair.
"Roger Herrick, I crown you Duke of Montvilliers," said Father Bertrand in a loud voice, placing the golden circle upon his head. "Presently in St. Etienne must you wear the iron crown, and there receive Heaven's blessing upon this high estate to which you are called."