Who shall understand the heart of a woman? Truly, not even her lover. Christine told herself that she was glad Roger Herrick had not been to see her, yet she watched from her window at those times she expected to see him in the court-yard. As Duke he might be nothing more than an ambitious tyrant, but she could not altogether forget what manner of man he had been in the charcoal-burners' hut and at the house in the Place Beauvoisin.
She was alone, and Roger Herrick filled her thoughts, when the door opened, and Herrick entered. He came unannounced, the door was closed behind him, and they were alone. Jean's advice had not passed unheeded. Herrick had come determined to make an explanation. A slight color stole into Christine's face. Perhaps she was glad he had come, yet she resented the manner of his coming; and face to face with her, the memory of her scorn the other night rose vividly in Herrick's mind. In the short pause which ensued, Fate seemed to draw barriers between them.
"Am I denied privacy then?" she asked.
"Had I sent to ask you to see me, you would probably have refused," said Herrick.
"Probably."
"Therefore I use the only way open to me," he answered.
"At present you are master. A prisoner complains of insult in vain."
"You are free to go where you will in the castle, mademoiselle. I thought you understood that."
"I wish to leave the castle," she answered.