“They thought you were prepared to become a traitor,” cried François. “Foi de gentilhomme! I scarcely expected you to make so frank an avowal. They knew you to be ready to revolt – ha!”
“They knew I had endured wrongs enough to make me a rebel,” rejoined Bourbon. “But they were mistaken, sire – they were mistaken.”
“Then you rejected the offers?” said the king.
“I still indulged hopes that your majesty would render me justice.”
“Justice you shall have, cousin – strict justice,” rejoined the king. “Now listen to me. I suspect – nay, I am certain – that you are engaged in a conspiracy against me, and against the state. The two young Norman seigneurs, Matignon and D’Argouges, have disclosed the treasonable proposition made to them on your part by Lurcy. You look confounded, as well you may. You see I have ample proof of your guilt, but I can obtain plenty more by arresting all your principal adherents who are now assembled in this château. Not one of them can escape me.”
“Be not too sure of that, sire,” said Bourbon.
“You fancy you can protect them,” rejoined the king. “Learn that I am master of your castle. Its courts are filled with my archers – its walls are surrounded by my troops – its keys are in my possession. I have only to give the word to cause your arrest.”
“Your majesty will never give that word,” rejoined Bourbon, calmly.
“Wherefore not?” cried François, striding towards the door, as if with the design of putting his threat into execution. “What ho, there! – who waits?”
But the door was shut, and no one answered the summons, though the king repeated it still more lustily.
“What means this?” he cried, glancing furiously at Bourbon, who had risen from his couch, and thrown off his loose robe, showing that he was armed..
“It means, sire,” replied the Constable, “that the door will not be opened save at my order. Your majesty may be assured,” he added, with stern significance, “that those who enter this chamber will not arrest me.”
“Ha, traitor! do you mean me mischief?” exclaimed the king.
“Your majesty has come hither alone. I did not invite you. But you are perfectly safe, provided you pledge your royal word that no arrests shall be made.”
François hesitated for a moment, and then returned his half-drawn sword to the scabbard.
“Let us understand each other, Bourbon,” he said. “I had no design to proceed to extremities with you. Had it been so, I should have ordered your immediate arrest on my arrival at the château. My wish, as you must have perceived, was to confer amicably with you. I do not desire your destruction – on the contrary, I am well disposed towards you – ay, well disposed. Abandon your fatal design – prove to me that you are faithful and loyal as heretofore, and you shall find me forgiving and generous. Be true to your sovereign, and we will be true to you. Whatever may be the decree of the Parliament, you shall keep your possessions. The utmost wish of your soaring ambition shall be gratified. You shall accompany me to Italy, and shall share with me the command of the army. Will this content you?”
“Sire, it is far more than I could expect,” replied Bourbon. “I thought I had entirely forfeited your favour.”,
“Ingrate! – how could you think so, when I but lately appointed you lieutenant-general of the kingdom? That appointment ought to have convinced you that, in spite of our misunderstanding, I still had the greatest regard for you. I know your merits as a leader, and am certain you will add to your renown in this campaign. You shall help me to re-conquer the Milanese, as you helped me at Marignan to win it.”
“I hope to convince your majesty that I am worthy of the distinguished honour you propose to confer upon me,” said Bourbon.
“The appointment shall be announced at once, and will set at rest all rumours to your disadvantage,” said François. “To-morrow you shall set out with me for Lyons.”
“Alas! sire, I am utterly unable to travel in my present state. I could not even enter a litter. My physicians will tell you so.”
“‘Tis a strange disorder that afflicts you, cousin,” observed François, with an incredulous look. “You appear strong enough for service in the field.”
“You must not judge me by my looks, sire. When the fit seizes me, I am utterly prostrated. But I shall be better in a few days.”
“You think so?” cried the king. “Well, then, I will wait for you at Lyons.”
“I would not have your majesty delay the expedition on my account. As soon as I am able to move, I will follow you to Italy.”
“No, no, I will not start without you,” rejoined the king, suspiciously. “You shall join me at Lyons as speedily as you can.”
At this moment a side-door was opened, and a young dame, richly attired, and of surpassing beauty, entered the chamber.
VI. DIANE DE POITIERS
On seeing the king, she would have instantly retreated, but he commanded her to stay.
“Do not let my presence alarm you, fair lady,” he said. “And do not suppose you interrupt me, for I have finished my conference with the Lord Constable.”
The young dame, who seemed much embarrassed, made a profound obeisance, but did not advance. As we have said, she was exquisitely beautiful. Her features might have been modelled by Praxiteles, and her figure was tall and admirably proportioned. She was attired in green velvet, embroidered with flowers of damask, gold, and pearls, with the sleeves puffed and quilted, and her head-dress, which was very becomingly fashioned, was ornamented with pearls and other precious stones.
“I am trying to recal your features, fair lady,” said the king, approaching her, and regarding her with undisguised admiration, “but I do not think I can have seen you before. Such a lovely face as yours – such lustrous eyes – and such a form – must have made a lasting impression upon me. Yet you must have been at court.”
“No, sire, my father, the Comte de Saint-Vallier, never took me to court,” she replied.
“How?” exclaimed François, surprised. “Are you the charming Diane de Poitiers, who, by bestowing your hand upon the Comte de Maulévrier, have made him the most enviable of mortals?”
“It is my misfortune, sire, to be the wife of the Comte de Maulévrier,” she replied.
“Your misfortune! ha!” exclaimed the king. “Are you aware that your husband is here?”
“Here, sire?” exclaimed Diane, uneasily.
“Nay, be not alarmed,” replied François, smiling. “He has not come for the purpose of taking you back to the Château de Brézé. He brought me some important intelligence from Normandy.”
“‘Tis Maulévrier, then, who has revealed the plot,” mentally ejaculated Bourbon.
“I should not return with him, if he desired it,” said Diane, “Your majesty must understand that the comte and I have quarrelled.”
“Quarrelled! ah!” exclaimed François. “And so you took refuge from the husband you hate with the Duke de Bourbon – eh?”
“I do not hate my husband, sire, though he has compelled me to leave him. I came to the Château de Moulins with my father.”
“And you expected to find your father with the Constable when you entered so suddenly just now, eh?” remarked the king, dryly.
“I did, sire. I came to inform them of your arrival at the château – little expecting to find your majesty here. I trust I may infer from your gracious and kindly aspect that the Constable is restored to favour?”
“He