impugned by me, till a Burgundian knight shall offer to sustain it with lance in rest. But for the injustice which you have done to the charms which your land produces, I appeal from yourself to yourself. – Look there,' he said, pointing to a large mirror, the gift of the Venetian republic, and then of the highest rarity and value, 'and tell me, as you look, what is the heart that can resist the charms there represented?'
The Princess, unable to sustain any longer the neglect of her lover, here sunk backwards on her chair, with a sigh, which at once recalled the Duke from the land of romance, and induced the Lady Hameline to ask whether her Highness found herself ill.
'A sudden pain shot through my forehead,' said the Princess, attempting to smile; 'but I shall be presently better.'
Her increasing paleness contradicted her words, and induced the Lady Hameline to call for assistance, as the Princess was about to faint.
The Duke, biting his lip, and cursing the folly which could not keep guard over his tongue, ran to summon the Princess's attendants, who were in the next chamber; and when they came hastily, with the usual remedies, he could not but, as a cavalier and gentleman, give his assistance to support and to recover her. His voice, rendered almost tender by pity and self-reproach, was the most powerful means of recalling her to herself, and just as the swoon was passing away, the King himself entered the apartment.
CHAPTER XII. THE POLITICIAN.
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.
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 reconnoitred 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!'
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. 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, 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 liege,' 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
