diminished consequence, that the union of their hands was designed by the wisdom of both Princes, to confirm the perpetual alliance which in future should take place betwixt France and Burgundy.
The Duke of Orleans had much difficulty in suppressing the joy which he felt upon the proposal, and which delicacy rendered improper in the presence of Louis; and it required his habitual awe of that monarch, to enable him to rein in his delight, so much as merely to reply, 'that his duty compelled him to place his choice at the disposal of his Sovereign.'
'Fair cousin of Orleans,' said Louis, with sullen gravity, 'since I must speak on so unpleasant an occasion, it is needless for me to remind you, that my sense of your merits had led me to propose for you a match into my own family. But, since my cousin of Burgundy thinks, that the disposing of your hand otherwise is the surest pledge of amity between his dominions and mine, I love both too well not to sacrifice to them my own hopes and wishes.'
The Duke of Orleans threw himself on his knees, and kissed, – and, for once, with sincerity of attachment, – the hand which the King, with averted countenance, extended to him. In fact, he, as well as most present, saw, in the unwilling acquiescence of this accomplished dissembler, who, even with that very purpose, had suffered his reluctance to be visible, a King relinquishing his favourite project, and subjugating his paternal feelings to the necessities of state, and interest of his country. Even Burgundy was moved, and Orleans' heart smote him for the joy which he involuntarily felt on being freed from his engagement with the Princess Joan. If he had known how deeply the King was cursing him in his soul, and what thoughts of future revenge he was agitating, it is probable his own delicacy on the occasion would not have been so much hurt.
Charles next turned to the young Countess, and bluntly announced the proposed match to her, as a matter which neither admitted delay nor hesitation; adding, at the same time, that it was but a too favourable consequence of her intractability on a former occasion.
'My Lord Duke and Sovereign,' said Isabelle, summoning up all her courage, 'I observe your Grace's commands, and submit to them.'
'Enough, enough,' said the Duke, interrupting her, 'we will arrange the rest. – Your Majesty,' he continued, addressing King Louis, 'hath had a boar's hunt in the morning, what say you to rousing a wolf in the afternoon?'
The young Countess saw the necessity of decision. – 'Your Grace mistakes my meaning,' she said, speaking, though timidly, yet loudly and decidedly enough to compel the Duke's attention, which, from some consciousness, he would otherwise have willingly denied to her. – 'My submission,' she said, 'only respected those lands and estates which your Grace's ancestors gave to mine, and which I resign to the House of Burgundy, if my Sovereign thinks my disobedience in this matter renders me unworthy to hold them.'
'Ha! Saint George!' said the Duke, stamping furiously on the ground, 'does the fool know in what presence she is – And to whom she speaks?'
'My lord,' she replied, still undismayed, 'I am before my Suzerain, and, I trust, a just one. If you deprive me of my lands, you take away all that your ancestors' generosity gave, and you break the only bonds which attach us together. You gave not this poor and persecuted form, still less the spirit which animates me – And these it is my purpose to dedicate to Heaven in the convent of the Ursulines, under the guidance of this Holy Mother Abbess.'
The rage and astonishment of the Duke can hardly be conceived, unless we could estimate the surprise of a falcon, against whom a dove should ruffle its pinions in defiance. – 'Will the Holy Mother receive you without an appanage?' he said, in a voice of scorn.
'If she doth her convent, in the first instance, so much wrong,' said the Lady Isabelle, 'I trust there is charity enough among the noble friends of my house, to make up some support for the orphan of Croye.'
'It is false!' said the Duke; 'it is a base pretext to cover some secret and unworthy passion. – My Lord of Orleans, she shall be yours, if I drag her to the altar with my own hands!'
The Countess of Crevecoeur, a high-spirited woman, and confident in her husband's merits and his favour with the Duke, could keep silent no longer. – 'My lord,' she said, 'your passions transport you into language utterly unworthy – The hand of no gentlewoman can be disposed of by force.'
'And it is no part of the duty of a Christian Prince,' added the Abbess, 'to thwart the wishes of a pious soul, who, broken with the cares and persecutions of the world, is desirous to become the bride of Heaven.'
'Neither can my cousin of Orleans,' said Dunois, 'with honour accept a proposal, to which the lady has thus publicly stated her objections.'
'If I were permitted,' said Orleans, on whose facile mind Isabelle's beauty had made a deep impression, 'some time to endeavour to place my pretensions before the Countess in a more favourable light' –
'My lord,' said Isabelle, whose firmness was now fully supported by the encouragement which she received from all around, 'it were to no purpose – my mind is made up to decline this alliance, though far above my deserts.'
'Nor have I time,' said the Duke, 'to wait till these whimsies are changed with the next change of the moon. – Monseigneur d'Orleans, she shall learn within this hour, that obedience becomes matter of necessity.'
'Not in my behalf, Sire,' answered the Prince, who felt that he could not, with any show of honour, avail himself of the Duke's obstinate disposition; – 'to have been once openly and positively refused, is enough for a Son of France. He cannot prosecute his addresses farther.'
The Duke darted one furious glance at Orleans, another at Louis; and reading in the countenance of the latter, in spite of his utmost efforts to suppress his feelings, a look of secret triumph, he became outrageous.
'Write,' he said to the Secretary, 'our doom of forfeiture and imprisonment against this disobedient and insolent minion! She shall to the Zuchthaus, to the penitentiary, to herd with those whose lives have rendered them her rivals in effrontery!'
There was a general murmur.
'My Lord Duke,' said the Count of Crevecoeur, taking the word for the rest, 'this must be better thought on. We, your faithful vassals, cannot suffer such a dishonour to the nobility and chivalry of Burgundy. If the Countess hath done amiss, let her be punished – but in the manner that becomes her rank, and ours, who stand connected with her house by blood and alliance.'
The Duke paused a moment, and looked full at his counsellor with the stare of a bull, which, when compelled by the neat-herd from the road which he wishes to go, deliberates with himself whether to obey, or to rush on his driver, and toss him into the air.
Prudence, however, prevailed over fury – he saw the sentiment was general in his council – was afraid of the advantages which Louis might derive from seeing dissension among his vassals; and probably – for he was rather of a coarse and violent, than of a malignant temper – felt ashamed of his own dishonourable proposal.
'You are right,' he said, 'Crevecoeur, and I spoke hastily. Her fate shall be determined according to the rules of chivalry. Her flight to Liege hath given the signal for the Bishop's murder. He that best avenges that deed, and brings us the head of the Wild Boar of Ardennes, shall claim her hand of us; and if she denies his right, we can at least grant him her fiefs, leaving it to his generosity to allow her what means he will to retire into a convent.'
'Nay!' said the Countess, 'think I am the daughter of Count Reinold – of your father's old, valiant, and faithful servant. Would you hold me out as a prize to the best sword-player?'
'Your ancestress,' said the Duke, 'was won at a tourney – you shall be fought for in real melee. Only thus far, for Count Reinold's sake, the successful prizer shall be a gentleman, of unimpeached birth, and unstained bearings; but, be he such, and the poorest who ever drew the strap of a swordbelt through the tongue of a buckle, he shall have at least the proffer of your hand. I swear it, by St George, by my ducal crown, and by the Order that I wear! – Ha! Messires,' he added, turning to the nobles present, 'this at least is, I think, in conformity with the rules of chivalry?'
Isabelle's remonstrances were drowned in a general and jubilant assent, above which was heard the voice of old Lord Crawford, regretting the weight of years that prevented his striking for so fair a prize. The Duke was gratified by the general applause, and his temper began to flow more smoothly, like that of a swollen river when it hath subsided within its natural boundaries.
'Are we, to whom fate has given dames already,' said Crevecoeur, 'to be bystanders at this fair game? It does not consist with my honour to be so, for I have myself a vow to be paid at the expense of that tusked and
