This is a lecturer, so skill'd in policy,
That (no disparagement to Satan's cunning)
He well might read a lesson to the devil,
And teach the old seducer new temptations.
OLD PLAY
As Louis entered the gallery, he bent his brows in the manner we have
formerly described as peculiar to him, and sent, from under his gathered
and gloomy eyebrows, a keen look on all around; in darting which,
as Quentin afterwards declared, his eyes seemed to turn so small,
so fierce, and so piercing, as to resemble those of an aroused adder
looking through the bush of heath in which he lies coiled.
When, by this momentary and sharpened glance, the King had reconnoitered
the cause of the bustle which was in the apartment, his first address
was to the Duke of Orleans.
“You here, my fair cousin?” he said;--and turning to Quentin, added
sternly, “Had you not charge?”
“Forgive the young man, Sire,” said the Duke; “he did not neglect his
duty; but I was informed that the Princess was in this gallery.”
“And I warrant you would not be withstood when you came hither to pay
your court,” said the King, whose detestable hypocrisy persisted in
representing the Duke as participating in a passion which was felt only
on the side of his unhappy daughter; “and it is thus you debauch the
sentinels of my guard, young man?--But what cannot be pardoned to a
gallant who only lives par amours [by his love affairs]?”
The Duke of Orleans raised his head, as if about to reply in some manner
which might correct the opinion conveyed in the King's observation; but
the instinctive reverence, not to say fear, of Louis, in which he had
been bred from childhood, chained up his voice.
“And Joan hath been ill?” said the King; “but do not be grieved, Louis;
it will soon pass away; lend her your arm to her apartment, while I will
conduct these strange ladies to theirs.”
The order was given in a tone which amounted to a command, and Orleans
accordingly made his exit with the Princess at one extremity of the
gallery, while the King, ungloving his right hand, courteously handed
the Countess Isabelle and her kinswoman to their apartment, which
opened from the other. He bowed profoundly as they entered, and remained
standing on the threshold for a minute after they had disappeared;
then, with great composure, shut the door by which they had retired
and turning the huge key, took it from the lock, and put it into his
girdle--an appendage which gave him still more perfectly the air of some
old miser, who cannot journey in comfort unless he bear with him the key
of his treasure closet.
With slow and pensive step, and eyes fixed on the ground, Louis now
paced towards Quentin Durward, who, expecting his share of the royal
displeasure, viewed his approach with no little anxiety.
“Thou hast done wrong,” said the King, raising his eyes, and fixing them
firmly on him when he had come within a yard of him,--“thou hast done
foul wrong, and deservest to die.--Speak not a word in defence!--What
hadst thou to do with Dukes or Princesses?--what with any thing but my
order?”
“So please your Majesty,” said the young soldier, “what could I do?”
“What couldst thou do when thy post was forcibly passed?” answered the
King, scornfully,--“what is the use of that weapon on thy shoulder? Thou
shouldst have levelled thy piece, and if the presumptuous rebel did
not retire on the instant, he should have died within this very hall!
Go--pass into these farther apartments. In the first thou wilt find a
large staircase, which leads to the inner Bailley; there thou wilt
find Oliver Dain [the inner bailey contained the stables and often the
chapel. It communicated directly with the keep]. Send him to me--do thou
begone to thy quarters.--As thou dost value thy life, be not so loose of
thy tongue as thou hast been this day slack of thy hand.”
Well pleased to escape so easily, yet with a soul which revolted at the
cold blooded cruelty which the King seemed to require from him in the
execution of his duty, Durward took the road indicated; hastened down
stairs, and communicated the royal pleasure to Oliver, who was waiting
in the court beneath. The wily tonsor bowed, sighed, and smiled, as,
with a voice even softer than ordinary, he wished the youth a good
evening; and they parted, Quentin to his quarters, and Oliver to attend
the King.
In this place, the Memoirs which we have chiefly followed in compiling
this true history were unhappily defective; for, founded chiefly on
information supplied by Quentin, they do not convey the purport of the
dialogue which, in his absence, took place between the King and his
secret counsellor. Fortunately the Library of Hautlieu contains a
manuscript copy of the Chronique Scandaleuse of Jean de Troyes [the
Marquis de Hautlieu is the name of an imaginary character in whose
library Scott declares himself to have found the memorials which form
the basis of the novel of Quentin Durward], much more full than that
which has been printed; to which are added several curious memoranda,
which we incline to think must have been written down by Oliver himself
after the death of his master, and before he had the happiness to be
rewarded with the halter which he had so long merited. From this we
have been able to extract a very full account of the obscure favourite's
conversation with Louis upon the present occasion, which throws a light
upon the policy of that Prince, which we might otherwise have sought for
in vain.
When the favourite attendant entered the Gallery of Roland, he found the
King pensively seated upon the chair which his daughter had left some
minutes before. Well acquainted with his temper, he glided on with his
noiseless step until he had just crossed the line of the King's sight,
so as to make him aware of his presence, then shrank modestly backward
and out of sight, until he should be summoned to speak or to listen. The
Monarch's first address was an unpleasant one: “So, Oliver, your fine
schemes are melting like snow before the south wind!--I pray to Our
Lady of Embrun that they resemble not the ice heaps of which the Switzer
churls tell such stories, and come rushing down upon our heads.”
“I have heard with concern that all is not well, Sire,” answered Oliver.
“Not well!” exclaimed the King, rising and hastily marching up and down
the gallery. “All is ill, man--and as ill nearly as possible; so much
for thy fond romantic advice, that I, of all men, should become a
protector of distressed damsels! I tell thee Burgundy is arming, and on
the eve of closing an alliance with England. And Edward, who hath his
hands idle at home, will pour his thousands upon us through that
unhappy gate of Calais. Singly, I might cajole or defy them; but united,
united--and with the discontent and treachery of that villain Saint
Paul!--All thy fault, Oliver, who counselled me to receive the women,
and to use the services of that damned Bohemian to carry messages to
their vassals.”
“My lord,” said Oliver, “you know my reasons. The Countess's domains
lie between the frontiers of Burgundy and Flanders--her castle is almost
impregnable--her rights over neighbouring estates are such as, if well
supported, cannot but give much annoyance to Burgundy, were the lady but
wedded to one who should be friendly to France.”
“It is, it is a tempting bait,” said the King; “and could we have
concealed her being here, we might have arranged such a marriage for
this rich heiress as would have highly profited--France. But that
cursed Bohemian, how couldst thou recommend such a heathen hound for a
commission which required trust?”
“Please you,” said Oliver, “to remember it was your Grace's self who
trusted him too far--much farther than I recommended. He would have
borne a letter trustily enough to the Countess's kinsman, telling him to
hold out her castle, and promising speedy relief; but your Highness must
needs put his prophetic powers to the test; and thus he became possessed
of secrets which were worth betraying to Duke Charles.”
“I am ashamed, I am ashamed,” said Louis. “And yet, Oliver, they say
that these heathen people are descended from the sage Chaldeans, who
did read the mysteries of the stars in the plains of Shinar [they lie
between the Tigris and Euphrates].”
Well aware that his master, with all his acuteness and sagacity, was but
the more prone to be deceived by soothsayers, astrologers, diviners,
and all that race of pretenders to occult science, and that he even
conceived himself to have some skill in these arts. Oliver dared to
press this point no farther; and only observed that the Bohemian had
been a bad prophet on his own account, else he would have avoided
returning to Tours, and saved himself from the gallows he had merited.
“It often happens that those who are gifted with prophetic knowledge,”
answered Louis, with much gravity, “have not the power of foreseeing
those events in which they themselves are personally interested.”
“Under your Majesty's favour,” replied the confidant, “that seems as if
a man could not see his own hand by means of the candle which he holds,
and which shows him every other object in the apartment.”
“He cannot see his own features by the light which shows the faces of
others,” replied Louis; “and that is the more faithful illustration of
the case.--But this is foreign to my purpose at present. The Bohemian
hath had his reward, and peace be with him.--But these ladies!--Not
only does Burgundy threaten us with war for harbouring them, but their
presence is like to interfere with my projects in my own family. My
simple cousin of Orleans hath barely seen this damsel, and I venture to
prophesy that the sight of her is like to make him less pliable in the
matter of his alliance with Joan.”
“Your Majesty,” answered the counsellor, “may send these ladies of
Croye back to Burgundy, and so make your peace with the Duke. Many
might murmur at this as dishonourable; but if necessity demands the
sacrifice--”
“If profit demanded the sacrifice, Oliver, the sacrifice should be
made without hesitation,” answered the King. “I am an old, experienced
salmon, and use not to gulp the angler's hook because it is busked up
with a feather called honour. But what is worse than a lack of honour,
there were, in returning those ladies to Burgundy, a forfeiture of those
views of advantage which moved us to give them an asylum. It were heart
breaking to renounce the opportunity of planting a friend to ourselves,
and an enemy to Burgundy, in the very centre of his dominions, and so
near to the discontented cities of Flanders. Oliver, I cannot relinquish
the advantages which our scheme of marrying the maiden to a friend of
our own house seems to hold out to us.”
“Your Majesty,” said Oliver, after a moment's thought, “might confer her
hand on some right trusty friend, who would take all blame on himself,
and serve your Majesty secretly, while in public you might disown him.”
“And where am I to find such a friend?” said Louis. “Were I to bestow
her upon any one of our mutinous and ill ruled nobles, would it not be
rendering him independent? and hath it not been my policy for years
to prevent them from becoming so?--Dunois indeed--him, and him only, I
might perchance trust.--He would fight for the crown of France, whatever
were his condition. But honours and wealth change men's natures.--Even
Dunois I will not trust.”
“Your Majesty may find others,” said Oliver, in his smoothest manner,
and in a tone more insinuating than that which he usually employed in
conversing with the King, who permitted him considerable freedom; “men
dependent entirely on your own grace and favour, and who could no more
exist without your countenance than without sun or air--men rather of
head than of action--men who”
“Men who resemble thyself, ha!” said King Louis. “No, Oliver, by my
faith that arrow was too rashly shot!--What! because I indulge thee with
my confidence, and let thee, in reward, poll my lieges a little now
and then, dost thou think it makes thee fit to be the husband of that
beautiful vision, and a Count of the highest class to boot?--thee--thee,
I say, low born, and lower bred, whose wisdom is at best a sort of
dinning, and whose courage is more than doubtful.”
“Your Majesty imputes to me a presumption of which I am not guilty, in
supposing me to aspire so highly,” said Oliver.
“I am glad to hear it, man,” said the King; “and truly, I hold your
judgment the healthier that you disown such a reverie. But methinks thy
speech sounded strangely in that key.--Well, to return.--I dare not wed
this beauty to one of my subjects--I dare not return her to Burgundy--I
dare not transmit her to England or to Germany, where she is likely to
become the prize of some one more apt to unite with Burgundy than with
France, and who would be more ready to discourage the honest malcontents
in Ghent and Liege, than to yield them that wholesome countenance which
might always find Charles the Hardy enough to exercise his valour on,
without stirring from his domains--and they were in so ripe a humour for
insurrection, the men of Liege in especial, that they alone, well
heated and supported, would find my fair cousin work for more than a
twelvemonth; and backed by a warlike Count of Croye--O, Oliver! the plan
is too hopeful to be resigned without a struggle.--Cannot thy fertile
brain devise some scheme?”
Oliver paused for a long time--then at last replied, “What if a bridal
could be accomplished betwixt Isabelle of Croye and young Adolphus, the
Duke of Gueldres?”
“What!” said the King, in astonishment “sacrifice her, and she, too, so
lovely a creature, to the furious wretch who deposed, imprisoned, and
has often threatened to murder his own father!--No, Oliver, no that were
too unutterably cruel even for you and me, who look so steadfastly to
our excellent end, the peace and the welfare of France, and respect so
little the means by which it is attained. Besides, he lies distant from
us and is detested by the people of Ghent and Liege.--No, no--I will
none of Adolphus of Gueldres--think on some one else.”
“My invention is exhausted, Sire,” said the counsellor; “I can remember
no one who, as husband to the Countess of Croye, would be likely to
answer your Majesty's views. He must unite such various qualities--a
friend to your Majesty--an enemy to Burgundy--of policy enough to
conciliate the Ghentois and Liegeois, and of valour sufficient to defend
his little dominions against the power of Duke Charles--of noble birth
besides--that your Highness insists upon; and of excellent and virtuous
character to the boot of all.”
“Nay, Oliver,” said the King, “I leaned not so much--that is so very
much, on character; but methinks Isabelle's bridegroom should be
something less publicly and generally abhorred than Adolphus of
Gueldres. For example, since I myself must suggest some one--why not
William de la Marck?”
“On my halidome, Sire,” said Oliver, “I cannot complain of your
demanding too high a standard of moral excellence in the happy man, if
the Wild Boar of Ardennes can serve your turn. De la Marck!--why,
he is the most notorious robber and murderer on all the
frontiers--excommunicated by the Pope for a thousand crimes.”
“We will have him released from the sentence, friend Oliver--Holy Church
is merciful.”
“Almost an outlaw,” continued Oliver, “and under the ban of the Empire,
by an ordinance of the Chamber at Ratisbon.”
[Ratisbon was the seat of the German Reichstag from 1663 to 1806.]
“We will have the ban taken off, friend Oliver,” continued the King, in
the same tone; “the Imperial Chamber will hear reason.”
[A supreme court of appeals established in 1495 by Maximilian I: the
first law court established in Germany.]
“And admitting him to be of noble birth,” said Oliver, “he hath the
manners, the face, and the outward form, as well as the heart, of a
Flemish butcher--she will never accept of him.”
“His mode of wooing, if I mistake him not,” said Louis, “will render it
difficult for her to make a choice.”
“I was far wrong indeed, when I taxed your Majesty with being over
scrupulous,” said the counsellor. “On my life, the crimes of Adolphus
are but virtues to those of De la Marck!--And then how is he to meet
with his bride? Your Majesty knows he dare not stir far from his own
forest of Ardennes.”
“That must be cared for,” said the King; “and, in the first place,
the two ladies must be acquainted privately that they can be no longer
maintained at this Court, except at the expense of a war between France
and Burgundy, and that, unwilling to deliver them up to my fair
cousin of Burgundy, I am desirous they should secretly depart from my
dominions.”
“They will demand to be conveyed to England,” said Oliver “and we shall
have her return to Flanders with an island lord, having a round, fair
face, long brown hair, and three thousand archers at his back.”
“No--no,” replied the king; “we dare not (you understand me) so far
offend our fair cousin of Burgundy as to let her pass to England. It
would bring his displeasure as certainly as our maintaining her here.
No, no--to the safety of the Church alone we will venture to commit
her; and the utmost we can do is to connive at the Ladies Hameline and
Isabelle de Croye departing in disguise, and with a small retinue, to
take refuge with the Bishop of Liege, who will place the fair Isabelle
for the time under the safeguard of a convent.”
“And if that convent protect her from William de la Marck, when he knows
of your Majesty's favourable intentions, I have mistaken the man.”
“Why, yes,” answered the King, “thanks to our secret supplies of money,
De la Marck hath together a handsome handful of as unscrupulous soldiery
as ever were outlawed; with which he contrives to maintain himself among
the woods, in such a condition as makes him formidable both to the Duke
of Burgundy and the Bishop of Liege. He lacks nothing but some territory
which he may call his own; and this being so fair an opportunity to
establish himself by marriage, I think that, Pasques dieu! he will find
means to win and wed, without more than a hint on our part. The Duke
of Burgundy will then have such a thorn in his side as no lancet of our
time will easily cut out from his flesh. The Boar of Ardennes, whom he
has already outlawed, strengthened by the possession of that fair lady's
lands, castles, and seigniory, with the discontented Liegeois to boot,
who, by may faith, will not be in that case unwilling to choose him for
their captain and leader--let Charles then think of wars with France
when he will, or rather let him bless his stars if she war not with
him.--How dost thou like the scheme, Oliver, ha?”
“Rarely,” said Oliver, “save and except the doom which confers that
lady on the Wild Boar of Ardennes.--By my halidome, saving in a little
outward show of gallantry, Tristan, the Provost Marshal, were the more
proper bridegroom of the two.”
“Anon thou didst propose Master Oliver the barber,” said Louis; “but
friend Oliver and gossip Tristan, though excellent men in the way of
counsel and execution, are not the stuff that men make counts of.--Know
you not that the burghers of Flanders value birth in other men precisely
because they have it not themselves?--A plebeian mob ever desire an
aristocratic leader. Yonder Ked, or Cade, or--how called they him?--in
England, was fain to lure his rascal rout after him by pretending to the
blood of the Mortimers [Jack Cade was the leader of Cade's Rebellion.
Calling himself Mortimer, and claiming to be a cousin of Richard, Duke
of York, in 1450, at the head of twenty thousand men, he took formal
possession of London. His alleged object was to procure representation
for the people, and so reduce excessive taxation.]. William de la Marck
comes of the blood of the Princes of Sedan, as noble as mine own.--And
now to business. I must determine the ladies of Croye to a speedy and
secret flight, under sure guidance. This will be easily done--we have
but to hint the alternative of surrendering them to Burgundy. Thou must
find means to let William de la Marck know of their motions, and let him
choose his own time and place to push his suit. I know a fit person to
travel with them.”
“May I ask to whom your Majesty commits such an important charge?” asked
the tonsor.
“To a foreigner, be sure,” replied the King, “one who has neither kin
nor interest in France, to interfere with the execution of my pleasure;
and who knows too little of the country and its factions, to suspect
more of my purpose than I choose to tell him--in a word, I design to
employ the young Scot who sent you hither but now.”
Oliver paused in a manner which seemed to imply a doubt of the prudence
of the choice, and then added, “Your Majesty has reposed confidence in
that stranger boy earlier than is your wont.”
“I have my reasons,” answered the King. “Thou knowest” (and he crossed
himself) “my devotion for the blessed Saint Julian. I had been saying my
orisons to that holy Saint late in the night before last, wherein (as he
is known to be the guardian of travellers) I made it my humble petition
that he would augment my household with such wandering foreigners as
might best establish throughout our kingdom unlimited devotion to our
will; and I vowed to the good Saint in guerdon, that I would, in his
name, receive, and relieve; and maintain them.”
“And did Saint Julian,” said Oliver, “send your Majesty this long legged
importation from Scotland in answer to your prayers?”
Although the barber, who well knew that his master had superstition in
a large proportion to his want of religion, and that on such topics
nothing was more easy than to offend him--although, I say, he knew the
royal weakness, and therefore carefully put the preceding question in
the softest and most simple tone of voice, Louis felt the innuendo which
it contained, and regarded the speaker with high displeasure.
“Sirrah,” he said, “thou art well called Oliver the Devil, who darest
thus to sport at once with thy master and with the blessed Saints. I
tell thee, wert thou one grain less necessary to me, I would have thee
hung up on yonder oak before the Castle, as an example to all who scoff
at things holy--Know, thou infidel slave, that mine eyes were no sooner
closed; than the blessed Saint Julian was visible to me, leading a young
man whom he presented to me, saying that his fortune should be to escape
the sword, the cord, the river, and to bring good fortune to the side
which he should espouse, and to the adventures in which he should be
engaged. I walked out on the succeeding morning and I met with this
youth, whose image I had seen in my dream. In his own country he hath
escaped the sword, amid the massacre of his whole family, and here
within the brief compass of two days, he hath been strangely rescued
from drowning and from the gallows, and hath already, on a particular
occasion, as I but lately hinted to thee, been of the most material
service to me. I receive him as sent hither by Saint Julian to serve me
in the most difficult, the most dangerous, and even the most desperate
services.”
The King, as he thus expressed himself, doffed his hat, and selecting
from the numerous little leaden figures with which the hat band was
garnished that which represented Saint Julian, he placed it on the
table, as was often his wont when some peculiar feeling of hope, or
perhaps of remorse, happened to thrill across his mind, and, kneeling
down before it, muttered, with an appearance of profound devotion,
“Sancte Juliane, adsis precibus nostris! Ora, ora, pro nobis! [St.
Julian, give heed to our prayers. Plead, plead for us!]”
This was one of those ague fits of superstitious devotion which often
seized on Louis in such extraordinary times and places, that they gave
one of the most sagacious monarchs who ever reigned the appearance of
a madman, or at least of one whose mind was shaken by some deep
consciousness of guilt.
While he was thus employed, his favourite looked at him with an
expression of sarcastic contempt which he scarce attempted to disguise.
Indeed, it was one of this man's peculiarities, that in his whole
intercourse with his master, he laid aside that fondling, purring
affectation of officiousness and humility which distinguished his
conduct to others; and if he still bore some resemblance to a cat, it
was when the animal is on its guard,--watchful, animated, and alert
for sudden exertion. The cause of this change was probably Oliver's
consciousness that his Master was himself too profound a hypocrite not
to see through the hypocrisy of others.
“The features of this youth, then, if I may presume to speak,” said
Oliver, “resemble those of him whom your dream exhibited?”
“Closely and intimately,” said the King, whose imagination, like that
of superstitious people in general, readily imposed upon itself. “I
have had his horoscope cast, besides, by Galeotti Martivalle, and I have
plainly learned, through his art and mine own observation, that, in
many respects, this unfriended youth has his destiny under the same
constellation with mine.”
Whatever Oliver might think of the causes thus boldly assigned for
the preference of an inexperienced stripling, he dared make no farther
objections, well knowing that Louis, who, while residing in exile,
had bestowed much of his attention on the supposed science of judicial
astrology, would listen to no raillery of any kind which impeached his
skill. He therefore only replied that he trusted the youth would prove
faithful in the discharge of a task so delicate.
“We will take care he hath no opportunity to be otherwise,” said Louis;
“for he shall be privy to nothing, save that he is sent to escort the
Ladies of Croye to the residence of the Bishop of Liege. Of the probable
interference of William de la Marck he shall know as little as they
themselves. None shall know that secret but the guide; and Tristan or
thou must find one fit for our purpose.”
“But in that case,” said Oliver, “judging of him from his country and
his appearance, the young man is like to stand to his arms as soon as
the Wild Boar comes on them, and may not come off so easily from the
tusks as he did this morning.”
“If they rend his heart strings,” said Louis, composedly, “Saint Julian,
blessed be his name! can send me another in his stead. It skills as
little that the messenger is slain after his duty is executed, as that
the flask is broken when the wine is drunk out.--Meanwhile, we
must expedite the ladies' departure, and then persuade the Count de
Crevecoeur that it has taken place without our connivance; we having
been desirous to restore them to the custody of our fair cousin, which
their sudden departure has unhappily prevented.”
“The Count is perhaps too wise, and his master too prejudiced, to
believe it.”
“Holy Mother!” said Louis, “what unbelief would that be in Christian
men! But, Oliver, they shall believe us. We will throw into our whole
conduct towards our fair cousin, Duke Charles, such thorough and
unlimited confidence, that, not to believe we have been sincere with
him in every respect, he must be worse than an infidel. I tell thee,
so convinced am I that I could make Charles of Burgundy think of me in
every respect as I would have him, that, were it necessary for silencing
his doubts, I would ride unarmed, and on a palfrey, to visit him in his
tent, with no better guard about me than thine own simple person, friend
Oliver.”
“And I,” said Oliver, “though I pique not myself upon managing steel
in any other shape than that of a razor, would rather charge a Swiss
battalion of pikes, than I would accompany your Highness upon such a
visit of friendship to Charles of Burgundy, when he hath so many grounds
to be well assured that there is enmity in your Majesty's bosom against
him.”
“Thou art a fool, Oliver,” said the King, “with all thy pretensions
to wisdom--and art not aware that deep policy must often assume the
appearance of the most extreme simplicity, as courage occasionally
shrouds itself under the show of modest timidity. Were it needful,
full surely would I do what I have said--the Saints always blessing our
purpose, and the heavenly constellations bringing round in their course
a proper conjuncture for such an exploit.”
In these words did King Louis XI give the first hint of the
extraordinary resolution which he afterwards adopted in order to dupe
his great rival, the subsequent execution of which had very nearly
proved his own ruin.
He parted with his counsellor, and presently afterwards went to the
apartment of the Ladies of Croye. Few persuasions beyond his mere
license would have been necessary to determine their retreat from the
Court of France, upon the first hint that they might not be eventually
protected against the Duke of Burgundy; but it was not so easy to induce
them to choose Liege for the place of their retreat. They entreated
and requested to be transferred to Bretagne or Calais, where, under
protection of the Duke of Bretagne or King of England, they might remain
in a state of safety, until the sovereign of Burgundy should relent in
his rigorous purpose towards them. But neither of these places of safety
at all suited the plans of Louis, and he was at last successful in
inducing them to adopt that which did coincide with them.
The power of the Bishop of Liege for their defence was not to be
questioned, since his ecclesiastical dignity gave him the means of
protecting the fugitives against all Christian Princes; while, on
the other hand, his secular forces, if not numerous, seemed at least
sufficient to defend his person, and all under his protection, from any
sudden violence. The difficulty was to reach the little Court of the
Bishop in safety; but for this Louis promised to provide, by spreading
a report that the Ladies of Croye had escaped from Tours by night, under
fear of being delivered up to the Burgundian Envoy, and had taken their
flight towards Bretagne. He also promised them the attendance of a small
but faithful retinue, and letters to the commanders of such towns and
fortresses as they might pass, with instructions to use every means for
protecting and assisting them in their journey.
The Ladies of Croye, although internally resenting the ungenerous and
discourteous manner in which Louis thus deprived them of the promised
asylum in his Court, were so far from objecting to the hasty departure
which he proposed, that they even anticipated his project, by entreating
to be permitted to set forward that same night. The Lady Hameline was
already tired of a place where there were neither admiring courtiers,
nor festivities to be witnessed; and the Lady Isabelle thought she had
seen enough to conclude that, were the temptation to become a little
stronger, Louis XI, not satisfied with expelling them from his Court,
would not hesitate to deliver her up to her irritated Suzerain, the Duke
of Burgundy. Lastly, Louis himself readily acquiesced in their hasty
departure, anxious to preserve peace with Duke Charles, and alarmed lest
the beauty of Isabelle should interfere with and impede the favourite
plan which he had formed for bestowing the hand of his daughter Joan
upon his cousin of Orleans.