The Constable De Bourbon. Ainsworth William Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 majesty’s 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 father’s 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 d’Angoulême.

      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 d’Angoulême, and СКАЧАТЬ