CHAPTER XLVIII.

Many are the perils of greatness, but among them all, there are few

more disastrous than that of being subject continually to influences

the most corrupt, which poison the stream of human action almost at

the fountain-head. False representations, sneers, innuendoes,

mis-statements, are ever fluttering about the heads of princes, guard

themselves how they will against them; and I have seen the base, the

treacherous, the coward, and the fool raised to office, honor, and

emolument; the good, the wise, the just, and the true rejected,

neglected, and despised by men, not feeble-minded, not corrupt

themselves, but strong in intellect, clear of sight, and with the

highest and the noblest purposes. Princes and powerful men can but, as

others do, judge and decide from what they see and hear, and the very

atmosphere around them is misty with falsehood, their very closet is

an echo which repeats little else but lies.

There was a great hall in the château of Felard, and in it, about nine

o'clock, were assembled many of the prime nobility of France. Gay

habits were there, and handsome forms; and, being so numerous, the

party of course comprised some who were good and wise. It consisted

principally of men, indeed; but there were ladies likewise

present--the queen herself, Agnes Sorel, several high dames of Berri,

and ladies attending upon the court. The young king, graceful and

handsome, stood at the upper end of the hall, by the side of his wife;

and various guests from time to time advanced, spoke a few words to

him, and passed on. All seemed gay and smiling. The news had spread

around that the principal conditions of a treaty of accommodation with

the late rebels had been signed, and joy and satisfaction at a result

so greatly to be desired, yet which had been so little expected,

spread a cheerfulness like sunshine over all. Little did he who had

first suggested the steps which had led to such a conclusion, and had

principally contributed to their adoption, dream at that moment of the

evil that awaited himself.

Jean Charost, after several persons of higher station than himself had

passed the king's presence, advanced with a grave air from the end of

the circle near which he stood. His countenance was calm and well

assured, though thoughtful, and his eyes were raised direct to the

monarch. He could see a dark cloud suddenly come upon Charles's face,

and La Trimouille, who was at some little distance from the king,

immediately drew nearer to him. The king bowed his head somewhat

ungraciously in answer to the young nobleman's salutation, and then,

seeing him pause without passing on, said, harshly, "What is it,

Monsieur de Brecy? Speak, if you have any thing to say."

De Brecy instantly divined that the king had been prepossessed; but

that ancient spirit in him, which had led him, when a mere boy with

the Duke of Orleans, to speak his mind plainly, had not been beaten

out of him, even by all the hard blows of the world, and he replied,

with one glance at his mother and Agnes, who stood at a little

distance from the queen, but whom he could have well wished absent, "I

have something to say, sire, which I would not venture to say at

present, had you not yourself appointed me this as my hour of

audience."

The king slowly nodded his head, as if directing him to proceed; and

Jean Charost continued, "To-night, by your commands, I took part in a

conference at Pressavoix, and gladly found that your majesty was

disposed to be most gracious to a number of your vassals and subjects

who had ventured to take arms upon very shallow pretexts against your

authority. Although no motive was necessary to explain your clemency,

the motive which Monsieur La Trimouille did express, was to reunite

all Frenchmen in the service of the country. One solitary exception

was made in this act of grace and goodness, and that exception was

against a nobleman who, whatever may have been his faults lately, has,

in times past, served the crown with zeal, skill, and courage."

The frown was darkening more and more heavily on Charles's brow every

moment; but he did not speak, and Jean Charost went on boldly, "I have

ventured to believe, sire, that you might be led to mitigate the

severity of your just anger against the constable, and to consider

former services as well as present faults, to remember how useful he

has been, and may be still to France, and might be even induced to

extend to him the same grace and favor which you hold out to his

comrades in offense."

"Did you hear my will expressed by Monsieur La Trimouille?" demanded

the king, sternly, and in a loud tone.

"I heard what he was pleased to say was your will, sire," replied De

Brecy; "but I presumed to differ with Monsieur La Trimouille, and to

believe that by proper representations to your majesty, which I

imagined had not been made, you might be brought to reconsider your

decision, and be gracious in all, as well as in part."

"And you expressed that difference at the council-table?" said

Charles.

"I did, sire," replied De Brecy, "judging it necessary to the safety

of France to do so."

"For which, sir," said the king aloud, and using the imperious plural

representing the many powers united in a king; "for which, sir, we

banish you from our court and presence, and make you share the

punishment of the fault you have defended. You did your best to

frustrate our purposes intrusted to the execution of our minister. You

nearly rendered abortive his efforts to bring about a pacification,

necessary to the welfare of the country; and it is probable that, had

you remained on the spot, that pacification would not have been

accomplished. We would have you know, and all know, that we will be

obeyed. We have punished his rebellion in the Count of Richmond more

leniently, perhaps, than his offense required, taking into full

consideration his former services, but weighing well the fact that he

was the head and leader, the chief and instigator of the conspiracy,

in which the rest were but his deluded followers. Unwarned by his

example, you thought fit to oppose our will at our very council-table,

and we therefore inflict on you the same punishment as on him. The

only grace we can grant you is to leave you the choice of your

retreat, within ten miles of which, wherever it may be, we require you

to limit your movements. Say whither you will go."

The first part of the king's speech had surprised and confounded De

Brecy; but he gradually recovered himself as the monarch went on. He

had long seen that Trimouille had sought to establish an almost

despotic authority over the court of France, and he easily divined

that Charles was not speaking his own sentiments, but those of his

minister. This was some consolation, and he had completely recovered

himself before the king ended. It was more by chance, however, than

any thing else that, thus suddenly called upon, he fixed on a place of

retreat. "By your majesty's permission," he replied, "I will retire to

Briare. I have, however, some weighty business to conclude, having

been too much engaged in your majesty's service to visit De Brecy for

several years. May I have permission to remain yet a few days in this

part of the country?"

"We give you three days," said the king, coldly inclining his head.

"It will need every exertion to accomplish what I have to do in the

time," answered Jean Charost, with much mortification in his tone. "I

will, therefore, beg leave to retire to De Brecy this very night.

Come, my dear mother--come, Agnes," he continued, taking a step back.

"Hold!" cried the king. "Madame De Brecy, of course we do not oppose

your departure with your son; but as for this young lady, we have had

reason to believe very lately, that the right to her guardianship

exists in us, rather than in Monsieur De Brecy. She must remain at our

court, and under the protection of the queen, till such time, at

least, as the matter is inquired into."

A red, angry glow spread over De Brecy's face; and Agnes herself was

starting forward, as if to cling to him in that moment of anguish and

indignation; but Agnes Sorel laid her hand upon her arm and held her

back, whispering eagerly, "Do not oppose the king now. If you refrain,

all may yet be well. Resist you can not, and opposition will be

destruction."

"He has brought her up from her infancy, my lord the king," said

Madame De Brecy, in an imploring tone. "I know of no one who could

have so good a right to her guardianship as himself."

"Dare he venture to say that he has any right to her guardianship at

all?" asked the king; "that that guardianship is his by blood, or that

he has received it from one competent to give it?"

"Perhaps not, sire," replied De Brecy, boldly. "But I know of no one

who has a better right than myself."

His eyes were flashing, his face heated, his whole frame trembling

with emotion; and, with his free and possibly rash habit of expressing

his thoughts, it is impossible to tell what he might have said; but

Dunois and Juvenel de Royans took him by the arms, and forcibly drew

him away from the king's presence toward a door at the end of the line

of ladies and gentlemen, on the king's right hand.

As this painful and exciting scene had proceeded, the open space

before the monarch had been gradually crowded, the ring around had

become narrower and narrower, and De Brecy was soon lost to the

monarch's eyes in the number of persons about him. Dunois paused for a

moment there, urging something to which Jean Charost gave no heed; but

nearly at the same instant a small hand was laid upon his arm, and the

voice of Agnes Sorel said, in a low, earnest tone, "Leave her to me,

De Brecy; leave her to me. I know all you fear; but, by my Christian

faith, I will protect her, and guard her from all evil. Here,

here--give your mother your arm; and, for Heaven's sake, for your own

sake, for her sake, do not irritate the king."

De Brecy heard no more; but, with the heaviest heart that had ever

rested in his bosom, suffered Dunois to lead him from the hall.

Juvenel de Royans followed, and, when they leached the vestibule

beyond, he wrung De Brecy's hand hard, saying, "This is my fault--all

my foolish chattering. But, by the Lord, I will set it right before I

have done, or I will cut my cousin Trimouille's heart out of his

body;" and with those words he turned sharply and re-entered the hall.

Agnes Sorel: A Novel · 第 48 / 53 章