'As you may guess,' answered D'Hymbercourt; 'talked much of faith to be observed, and little of advantage to be obtained, by such a visit; while it was manifest they thought almost entirely of the last, and were only anxious to find some way to reconcile it with the necessary preservation of appearances.'
'And what said the Duke?' continued the Count of Crevecoeur.
'Spoke brief and bold, as usual,' replied Comines. ''Which of you was it,' he asked, 'who witnessed the meeting of my cousin Louis and me after the battle of Montl'hery[42], when I was so thoughtless as to accompany him back within the intrenchments of Paris with half a score of attendants, and so put my person at the King's mercy?' I replied, that most of us had been present; and none could ever forget the alarm which it had been his pleasure to give us. 'Well,' said the Duke, 'you blamed me for my folly, and I confessed to you that I had acted like a giddy-pated boy; and I am aware, too, that my father of happy memory being then alive, my kinsman, Louis, would have had less advantage by seizing on my person than I might now have by securing his. But, nevertheless, if my royal kinsman comes hither on the present occasion, in the same singleness of heart under which I then acted, he shall be royally welcome. If it is meant by this appearance of confidence, to circumvent and to blind me, till he execute some of his politic schemes, by Saint George of Burgundy, let him look to it!' And so, having turned up his mustaches, and stamped on the ground, he ordered us all to get on our horses, and receive so extraordinary a guest.'
'And you met the King accordingly?' replied the Count of Crevecoeur – 'Miracles have not ceased! – How was he accompanied?'
'As slightly as might be,' answered D'Hymbercourt; 'only a score or two of the Scottish Guard, and a few knights and gentlemen of his household – among whom his astrologer, Galeotti, made the gayest figure.'
'That fellow,' said Crevecoeur, 'holds some dependence on the Cardinal Balue – I should not be surprised that he has had his share in determining the King to this step of doubtful policy. Any nobility of higher rank?'
'There are Monsieur of Orleans and Dunois,' replied Comines.
'I will have a rouze with Dunois,' said Crevecoeur, 'wag the world as it will. But we heard that both he and the Duke had fallen into disgrace, and were in prison?'
'They were both under arrest in the Castle of Loches, that delightful place of retirement for the French nobility,' said D'Hymbercourt; 'but Louis has released them, in order to bring them with him – perhaps because he cared not to leave Orleans behind. For his other attendants, faith, I think his gossip, the Hangman Marshal, with two or three of his retinue, and Oliver, his barber, may be the most considerable – and the whole bevy so poorly arrayed, that, by my honour, the King resembles most an old usurer going to collect desperate debts, attended by a body of catchpolls.'
'And where is he lodged?' said Crevecoeur.
'Nay, that,' replied Comines, 'is the most marvellous of all. Our Duke offered to let the King's Archer- Guard have a gate of the town, and a bridge of boats over the Somme, and to have assigned to Louis himself the adjoining house, belonging to a wealthy burgess, Giles Orthen; but, in going thither, the King espied the banners of De Lau and Pencil de Riviere, whom he had banished from France; and scared, as it would seem, with the thought of lodging so near refugees and malecontents of his own making, he craved to be quartered in the Castle of Peronne, and there he hath his abode accordingly.'
'Why, God ha'mercy!' exclaimed Crevecoeur, 'this is not only venturing into the lion's den, but thrusting his head into his very jaws – Nothing less than the very bottom of the rat-trap would serve the crafty old politician!'
'Nay,' said Comines, 'D'Hymbercourt hath not told you the speech of Le Glorieux[43] – which, in my mind, was the shrewdest opinion that was given.' 'And what said his most illustrious wisdom?' asked the Count.
'As the Duke,' replied Comines, 'was hastily ordering some vessels and ornaments of plate, and the like, to be prepared as presents for the King and his retinue, by way of welcome on his arrival, 'Trouble not thy small brain about it, my friend Charles,' said Le Glorieux, 'I will give thy cousin Louis a nobler and a fitter gift than thou canst; and that is my cap and bells, and my bauble to boot; for, by the mass, he is a greater fool than I am, for putting himself in thy power.' – 'But if I give him no reason to repent it, sirrah, how then?' said the Duke. 'Then, truly, Charles, thou shalt have cap and bauble thyself, as the greatest fool of the three of us.' I promise you this knavish quip touched the Duke closely – I saw him change colour and bite his lip. – And now, our news are told, noble Crevecoeur, and what think you they resemble?'
'A mine full-charged with gunpowder,' answered Crevecoeur, 'to which, I fear, it is my fate to bring the kindled linstock. Your news and mine are like flax and fire, which cannot meet without bursting into flame, or like certain chemical substances which cannot be mingled without an explosion. Friends, – gentlemen, – ride close by my rein; and when I tell you what has chanced in the bishopric of Liege, I think you will be of opinion, that King Louis might as safely have undertaken a pilgrimage to the infernal regions, as this ill-timed visit to Peronne.'
The two nobles drew up close on either hand of the Count, and listened, with half-suppressed exclamations, and gestures of the deepest wonder and interest, to his account of the transactions at Liege and Schonwaldt. Quentin was then called forward, and examined and re-examined on the particulars of the Bishop's death, until at length he refused to answer any further interrogatories, not knowing wherefore they were asked, or what use might be made of his replies.
They now reached the rich and level banks of the Somme, and the ancient walls of the little town of Peronne la Pucelle, and the deep green meadows adjoining, now whitened with the numerous tents of the Duke of Burgundy's army, amounting to about fifteen thousand men.
CHAPTER IX. THE INTERVIEW.
When Princes meet, Astrologers may mark it
An ominous conjunction, full of boding,
Like that of Mars with Saturn.
One hardly knows whether to term it a privilege or a penalty annexed to the quality of princes, that, in their intercourse with each other, they are required, by the respect which is due to their own rank and dignity, to regulate their feelings and expressions by a severe etiquette, which precludes all violent and avowed display of passion, and which, but that the whole world are aware that this assumed complaisance is a matter of ceremony, might justly pass for profound dissimulation. It is no less certain, however, that the overstepping of these bounds of ceremonial, for the purpose of giving more direct vent to their angry passions, has the effect of compromising their dignity with the world in general; as was particularly noted when those distinguished rivals, Francis the First, and the Emperor Charles, gave each other the lie direct, and were desirous of deciding their differences hand to hand, in single combat.
Charles of Burgundy, the most hasty and impatient, nay, the most imprudent prince of his time, found himself, nevertheless, fettered within the magic circle which prescribed the most profound deference to Louis, as his Suzerain and liege Lord, who had deigned to confer upon him, a vassal of the crown, the distinguished honour of a personal visit. Dressed in his ducal mantle, and attended by his great officers, and principal knights and nobles, he went in gallant cavalcade, to receive Louis XI. His retinue absolutely blazed with gold and silver; for the wealth of the Court of England being exhausted by the wars of York and Lancaster, and the expenditure of France limited by the economy of the Sovereign, that of Burgundy was for the time the most magnificent in Europe. The cortege of Louis, on the contrary, was few in number, and comparatively mean in appearance, and the exterior of the King himself, in a threadbare cloak, with his wonted old high-crowned hat stuck full of images, rendered the contrast yet more striking; and as the Duke, richly attired with the coronet and mantle of state, threw himself from his noble charger, and, kneeling on one knee, offered to hold the stirrup while Louis dismounted from his little ambling palfrey, the effect was almost grotesque.
The greeting between the two potentates was, of course, as full of affected kindness and compliment, as it was totally devoid of sincerity. But the temper of the Duke rendered it much more difficult for him to preserve the
