I am sensible enough of the distinction such an alliance would confer upon me, sire, replied the Constable. But, for all that, I must decline it.
Foi de gentilhomme! fair cousin, you are perverse enough to provoke me, but I will be calm, said the king, changing his attitude and tone. Since argument is useless, I must exert my authority. By Saint Denis! the match shall take place. I will have no nay from you. Now you understand.
I hear what you say, sire, rejoined Bourbon, sternly. But you cannot enforce compliance with the injunction. Not even at your bidding will I wed the Duchess dAngoulême.
You refuse! ha? demanded the king, fiercely.
Absolutely, replied Bourbon. I am a prince of the blood.
What of that? cried François, yet more highly incensed. Were you a crowned king, you would not bemean yourself by marriage with my mother. It is she who degrades herself by stooping to you. But this, he added, checking himself, cannot be your motive.
No, sire, it is not my motive, rejoined Bourbon. Since you force me to speak, you shall have the truth. I prefer death to dishonour.
Dishonour! echoed the king, astounded and enraged. Dare you breathe such a word in connexion with my mother? What mean you? Speak!
François looked at him with eyes that seemed to flash lightning. Bourbon, however, did not quail before the fierce looks and gestures of the king, but replied with stern significance:
A man of my quality, sire, does not marry a wanton.
Sang Dieu! this to me! cried the king, transported with rage.
And he struck Bourbon in the face with his hand.
This mortal insult, as may be imagined, produced a fearful effect on the Constable. His first impulse was to slay his assailant, and his hand involuntarily clutched his sword. But he abandoned the insane design almost as soon as formed. In the effort to constrain himself, his frame and features were terribly convulsed, and a cry of rage that was scarcely human escaped him. The king watched him narrowly, prepared for attack, but manifesting no alarm.
Sire, cried Bourbon, at length, that was a craven blow, unworthy of one who aspires to be the first knight in Christendom. No other person but yourself, who had thus insulted me, should live. But you are safe. You have dishonoured me for ever. Take back the dignity you have bestowed upon me, and which I am unworthy longer to wear, he added, tearing the jewelled cross of Saint Michael from his breast, and casting it on the ground. Others may fight for you. My sword shall never again be drawn in your service.
With a heart bursting with rage and grief, he rushed out of the room.
As Bourbon disappeared, the duchess came from behind the hangings.
So, you have heard what has passed between us, madame? cried the king.
I have, she replied. He is a false traitor and a liar, and has been rightly served. But you will not let him quit the palace? By that blow, which he richly deserved, you have made him your mortal enemy. You have him now in your hands, and you will rue it, if you suffer him to escape. He has many partisans, and may raise a revolt.
You alarm yourself unnecessarily, madame, rejoined François.
I have good reason for apprehension, rejoined the duchess. He has already entered into secret negotiations with the Emperor.
Foi de gentilhomme! if I thought so, I would order his instant arrest! exclaimed the king. But are you sure, madame? Have you any proof of what you assert?
He boasted, just now that the Emperor had offered him the widowed Queen of Portugal in marriage, replied the duchess. Does not that prove that secret overtures have been made him?
You are right. He is more dangerous than I thought. I must prevent his defection by fair means if possible if not .
You have provoked him too far, my son, interrupted the duchess. He will never forgive the insult you have put upon him. Allow him to depart, and most assuredly he will league with your enemies.
At this moment Bonnivet entered the cabinet.
Pardon me, sire, and you, gracious madame, if I venture to interrupt you, he said. But I would know your majestys commands in regard to the Constable. His demeanour and looks are so infuriated, and his language so full of menace, that I have ordered the guard not to let him quit the palace.
You have done well, monseigneur, said the duchess. Where is he now?
In the pavillon de Saint Louis, remarked Bonnivet, with her majesty and the Dame de Beaujeu.
I did not know the duchess was here, remarked Louise de Savoie, uneasily.
She only arrived an hour ago from Paris, replied Bonnivet. Ha! what is this I see? he added, noticing the cross of Saint Michael, which Bourbon had cast on the ground. Is it thus your honours are treated, sire? Such insolence deserves severe punishment.
I would punish the offender severely punish him but that I gave him great provocation, returned the king. You say that the Constable is in the salle de Saint Louis, with the queen and the Dame de Beau-jeu?
He went thither not many minutes ago, replied Bonnivet. Shall I arrest him as he comes forth?
No, said the king. I will see him again, and then decide. Come with me, madame and you too, Admiral.
V. THE DAME DE BEAUJEU
Prevented by the guard from quitting the palace, and nothing doubting that his arrest would speedily follow, Bourbon was slowly pacing the corridor, considering what course he should pursue, when an usher approached him, and, bowing reverently, informed him that the queen desired to speak with him.
The Constable willingly obeyed the summons, and was conducted to a magnificent hall, where he found the queen.
Her majesty was seated in a fauteuil, and beside her was an ancient dame of very striking appearance. Several court demoiselles and pages were in attendance, but they were stationed at the farther end of the hall.
The amiable qualities of Queen Claude were written in legible characters in her countenance. She was still young, and her features, though not beautiful, were pleasing. Her person was slightly deformed. It is quite clear she must have suffered deeply in secret, but profound as they were, her sorrows were breathed only to the ear of her confessor, or to Heaven. Her manner was singularly gentle, almost humble, and she rarely, if ever, manifested resentment against those who most deeply injured her. So saintly, indeed, was her conduct, that when she was released from her troubles, an event which occurred within a year from the date of our history, miracles were supposed to have been wrought upon her tomb. Claude, we need scarcely add, was the eldest daughter of Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany. Married to François, then Duke de Valois, when she was barely fifteen, she brought him as a dowry Brittany, and the title to the duchy of Milan. On the present occasion she was attired in cloth of gold tissue, raised with pearls of damask silver, and was coiffed in a diamond-shaped head-dress, ornamented with jewels.
The ancient dame whom we have mentioned as seated near her was Anne of France, Duchess de Bourbon-Beaujeu, eldest daughter of Louis XI. A woman of masculine character and understanding, the Dame de Beaujeu, as she was called, possessed many of her sagacious fathers qualities, great shrewdness and tenacity of purpose. She had governed the kingdom with firmness and ability during the youth of her brother, Charles VIII., and long maintained her sway, but her credit declined under. Louis XII., and when François I. mounted the throne the power she had once possessed fell entirely into the hands of the Duchess dAngoulême.
At no time had Anne de France been handsome, and perhaps her features were more agreeable in old age than in youth. Her countenance was hard, strongly marked, and entirely devoid of feminine expression. Always meagre of person, she became thinner and more rigid as she advanced in life. Her manner was cold and severe, but her deportment did not lack dignity.
At the time when we discover her, the Dame de Beaujeu seemed utterly prostrated by illness. Her features were wasted and haggard, and all her movements evinced extreme debility. She was attired in black velvet, richly trimmed with sable. Around her throat she wore a gorget, and her venerable locks were partially concealed by a black velvet hood. She had been brought in a litter to the palace, and had to be carried up to the salle de Saint Louis. Her physician, Mathieu Bernard, accompanied her, and was now standing at a little distance, describing her precarious condition to Cornelius Agrippa.
Is it possible her grace can have journeyed hither from Paris, doctor? inquired Agrippa.
She heard that the Constable de Bourbon had been summoned to Fontainebleau by the king, and insisted upon coming hither, replied Mathieu Bernard. All my efforts to dissuade her grace were vain.
She will scarce get back again, replied Agrippa.
Making a profound obeisance to Claude, Bourbon knelt reverentially to his mother-in-law, and kissed her withered hand. The old duchess immediately raised him, and embraced him tenderly.
Your looks bespeak trouble, my son, she said, regarding him anxiously. Tell me what has happened?
Bourbon relieved his bursting heart by a full description of his interview with the Duchess dAngoulême, and the quarrel that had ensued between him and the king. Both Claude and the old duchess listened to his narration with profound interest. At its close, the queen said:
I sympathise with you deeply, prince, but do not let the injuries you have received make you swerve from your loyalty to the king.
Justice must and shall be done you, Charles, cried the Dame de Beaujeu. I will go to the Duchess dAngoulême at once. Your arm, Charles give me your arm.
You are not equal to the effort, madame, said the Constable.
If it costs me my life, I will see her, cried the resolute old duchess. And she took a few steps, but her strength then utterly failed her, and she would have fallen but for the Constables support.
Her physician and Cornelius Agrippa, who had been anxiously watching her, flew to her assistance.
Oh! that; I had but one hour left of my former strength! I should die content, she groaned.
Drink of this, madame, said Cornelius Agrippa, offering her a phial. It is a sovereign elixir, and will restore you.
But she had not strength to take the phial, and was evidently sinking.
Bourbon, however, placed the elixir to her lips, and made her swallow a few drops. The effect was instantaneous and almost magical. New strength seemed imparted to her limbs, the hue of health returned to her cadaverous cheeks, and she was able to stand without support.
You have given me new life, she said to Agrippa.
Waste not a moment of it, madame, he replied. It may not be of long duration.
Just then, the great folding-doors at the end of the hall were thrown open, and the king, accompanied by the Duchess dAngoulême and Bonnivet, entered the salon. Behind them came a crowd of courtiers, amongst whom were Montmorency, Saint-Vallier, and René de Bretagne.
I have my wish. She is here! cried the old duchess.
On the entrance of the king, Claude advanced to meet him, and the Dame de Beaujeu followed closely behind her, marching with the firmness and majesty of former years. As he beheld her move along in this way, Mathieu Bernard observed to Agrippa:
You have performed a miracle.
I have but restored the vital energies for a moment, replied the other. It is the last flash of the expiring taper.
The royal party met in the centre of the salon. Bourbon had followed his mother-in-law, and Saint-Vallier and René came over and stationed themselves beside him.
I am sorry to learn, sire, said Claude, that our cousin, the Constable de Bourbon, has incurred your displeasure. Let me intercede for him with your majesty.
It is true that the Duke dc Bourbon has deeply offended me, said the king. But it is not too late for his restoration to favour.
You hear that, prince, said Claude to the Constable. All may yet be well.
Sire, interposed the Dame de Beaujeu, I ask for justice to my son-in-law, the Duke de Bourbon. Has he not served you faithfully? Has he not brought you men and treasure? Has he not bled for you in the field? And how has he been rewarded? By slights, by the withdrawal of his pensions, by the spoliation of his property, by disgrace, by dishonour. Sire, wrongs like these are enough to make a traitor of the noblest and most loyal heart in France.
No wrong, madame, has been done to the Constable de Bourbon, rejoined the king. But, if I am not misinformed, he has already played the traitor.
Bourbon looked sternly at the king, but took no other notice of the insinuation.
Believe it not, sire, said the Dame de Beaujeu. Whoso has told you that has spoken falsely, she added, glancing at the Duchess dAngoulême. Charles de Bourbon is no traitor. But goad him not to desperation by wrongs greater than any man can tamely endure.
Peace, madame. You trouble the king, said the Duchess dAngoulême.
What! exclaimed the Dame de Beaujeu, regarding her with unutterable scorn. Is Anne of France, daughter of Louis XI., the wisest and the greatest monarch that ever sat on the throne, to hold her peace at the bidding of Louise de Savoie? But I will not be silent. I will tell the king, your son, that he has done a flagrant act of injustice in aiding you to avenge yourself upon the Duke de Bourbon. All shall know the cause of your animosity.
I will hear no more, cried François, impatiently.
Listen to me, sire, I beseech you, said Queen Claude. You have done Bourbon grievous wrong. Make him some amends. You know I rarely interfere with your proceedings, but in this case I cannot refrain. I would not have you commit injustice.
Do you also tax me with injustice? said the king, frowning.
I have said it, sire, she replied.
I should be wanting in duty to your majesty if I remained silent, said Montmorency. In my opinion, Bourbon has been unjustly treated.
You, too, against me, marshal? cried the king.
I will answer for Bourbons loyalty with my head, sire, said Saint-Vallier.
And so will I, added René de Bretagne.
I take you at your word, messieurs, replied François. Charles de Bourbon, you are free to depart.
Sire, you do wrong in granting this permission, sad the Duchess dAngoulême.
Beware, madame, said the Dame de Beaujeu, stepping towards her. And clutching her hand, she whispered, Interfere, and I will proclaim your infamy to all around.
Bourbon tarried not a moment. With a haughty obeisance, and with a look of ill-disguised menace at the king, he quitted the salon, followed by Saint-Vallier and René.
This time he experienced no hindrance from the guard, but passing through the vestibule, and descending the great horse-shoe staircase, he mounted his steed, and rode off with his escort.
As Cornelius Agrippa had predicted, the Dame do Beaujeu expired on her litter on the way back to Paris.