Back Aa

Agnes Sorel

<h4>CHAPTER XXXV.</h4> Towns have their varying expressions as well as human faces; and the aspect of Monterreau, on the tenth of September, one thousand four hundred and nineteen, presented a curious appearance, but one which those who have lived long on the face of the earth must sometimes have seen in moments of great excitement and expectation. The city looked gay, for it was filled with people; and the splendor-loving soldiery, in their arms, seen in every direction, gave a brilliancy to the streets which in ordinary times they did not possess. The day was bright and beautiful, too; one of those clear, warm, September days, which often succeed a frosty morning; and the trees, which were then mingled with the vineyards on the heights of Surville, caught the rays of the sun upon foliage gently tinged with the tints of autumn. The bells of the churches rang out, for it was the Sabbath; and many a fair dame, in sparkling attire and with rosary on wrist, flaunted her Sunday finery along the streets, or might be seen gliding in through the dark portal to join in the service of the day. Still, there was a sort of silent solemnity over the place, an uneasy calm, if I may use an expression which seems to imply a contradiction--an oppressive expectation. Whenever the bell ceased, there seemed no other sound. Men walked in groups, and spoke not; even the women bated their breath and conversed in lower tones. Early in the morning, a gay train had passed into the castle, after circling the town till a gate, opening beyond the walls into the fields, had been reached. There were ladies and waiting-women, and several gentlemen of gallant mien, and a small troop of archers. But the castle gates swallowed them up, and nothing more was seen of them for several hours. From time to time, two or three horsemen rode out of the town, and sometimes a small party re-entered it; but these were the only occurrences which gave any appearance of movement to the scene till after the hour of noon. About nine o'clock in the morning, indeed, a young man, in the dress of a monk, rode in on a mule, put up his beast at a stable, where he was obliged to use the name of the Marquis De Royans to obtain any attention, and then proceeded on foot to a large house situated near the bridge over the Yonne. There were a number of people at the door, and he made some inquiries, holding a letter in his hand. The answer seemed unsatisfactory; for he turned away, and walked through the town, inquiring for the abbey, which lay upon the other side. There were no signs of approaching the precincts of a court, as Jean Charost proceeded on the way he had been directed. The two streets through which he passed were nearly deserted, and, being turned from the sun, looked cool and desolate enough. He began almost to fancy he had made a mistake, when, on the opposite side of a little square or close, he saw a large and very beautiful building, with a church at one end of it, and a row of stone posts before it. All that was left of it, as far as I remember, in one thousand eight hundred and twenty-one, was one beautiful doorway, with a rounded arch overhead, sinking deep with molding within molding, of many a quaint and curious device, till it made a sort of niche, under which the traveler might find shelter from the sun or rain. It was, when I saw it, used as the entrance to a granary; but two guards, with halberts on their shoulders, walking slowly up and down, and three or four servants loitering about, or sitting on the steps, showed that it had not been turned to such base uses, in the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and nineteen. Directly toward this door De Brecy took his way, giving a glance round as he passed the corners of the houses opposite, and obtaining a view, down a short street, of the gently-flowing Seine, with its ancient bridge and the walls of the old castle. There seemed to be some curious erections on the bridge: a little pavilion, with a flag fluttering on the top, and several large wooden barricades; but De Brecy paused not to inquire what they meant, and walking straight on to one of the servants, inquired if the Seigneur du Châtel were there, adding that he had been directed thither from his quarters. The young gentleman spoke with a tone of authority, which, probably, as well as the glistening of a military haubergeon above the neck of the monk's frock, procured him a civil answer. "He is here, sir," answered the servant; "but is in deep conference with his highness the dauphin and several other lords. He can in no way be interrupted." "Give him that letter when he comes from the council, and fail not," said Jean Charost. "Moreover, I must beg of you to see immediately the principal officer of his highness's household, and inform him that the Baron De Brecy, a prisoner of Azincourt, has arrived from England, bearing a letter for the dauphin from his highness the Duke of Orleans, and craves leave to lay it at his feet as soon as his convenience serves." "I fear, sir, that will not be speedily," said the servant. "Where may you be found when his highness has occasion?" "If Mademoiselle De St. Geran be at the court," replied Jean Charost, a little discouraged by the impediments he had met with, "I will crave an interview with her. You may tell her," he added, seeing the man take a step back as if to enter the building, "that Monsieur De Brecy waits--an acquaintance of her childhood, whom he trusts she may remember." "You had better follow me, sir," said the servant. "She is here, and was alone some half hour ago." Jean Charost followed the man into the abbey, one whole wing of which seemed to be appropriated to the dauphin and his train. No monks were visible; but still, the dim, religious light of the long passages and arched cloisters, the quiet courts, and galleries rich in gray stone fret-work, had a solemnity, if not a gloom, which Jean Charost thought must contrast strangely with some of those wild courtly revelries which checkered the fierce strifes and fiery passions of the age. Passing by a number of small doors leading to the cells along the cloister, where probably the inferior followers of the court were quartered, the young gentleman was led to the foot of a flight of highly-ornamented stairs, carried boldly up through a wide, lightsome hall, round which it turned, and carved and supported with such skill and delicacy, that it seemed actually to hang in air. At the top ran round a gallery, screened by fine tracery of stone-work from the stair-case hall, and on the other hand, all round, except where the window was placed to afford light, were doors, and the opening of corridors, over the arch of one of which appeared a mitre, showing that there had formerly been the apartments of the abbot. The servant passed on to the next corridor, and then led the visitor along to the very end, where, after knocking at a door, he entered, said a few words, and then opened the door wider for Jean Charost to pass in. It was a small, but richly-decorated room he entered, with a door, apparently leading to another beyond; and at a table, covered with many-colored silks, which she seemed sorting into their different shades, sat a lady, magnificently dressed. She raised her eyes, beautiful and full of light, but with no glance of recognition in them, and for a moment De Brecy fancied there must be some mistake. There was a certain vague, shadowy likeness to the Agnes Sorel he had formerly known, but yet there was a strange difference. It was the diamond polished, compared with the diamond dull from the mine. The next instant, however, the likeness suddenly became more strong. Remembrance seemed to flash up in the countenance of the lovely creature before him. She threw down the silk, rose hastily from the table, and exclaimed, with a beaming smile, "Ah, Monsieur De Brecy! He did not give your name rightly." She was in the very act of advancing to meet him; but suddenly she paused, and from some cause, unexplained, a warm blush rushed over her cheek and forehead, and then, the moment after, she turned deadly pale. She recovered herself speedily, welcomed him most kindly, made him sit down by her, and listened to all he had to say. She answered him, too, with every mark of interest; but, from time to time, she fell into a deep, silent fit of thought, during which her spirit seemed to take wings and fly far away. "Forgive me, Monsieur De Brecy," she said, at length, "if I seem sometimes inattentive and absent. Your sudden and unexpected coming carries me back continually to other days, without leaving me any power of resistance--I know not whether to call them happier days, though they were happier in one sense. They were days full of hopes and purposes, alas! not to be accomplished. But we learn hard lessons, Monsieur De Brecy, in this severe school of life. We learn to bear much that we thought we could never bear; and by constantly seeing changes and chances, and all that befalls others, learn to yield ourselves unresisting to our fate, with the sad philosophy of enjoying the day, from a knowledge that we have no power over the morrow. Oh, what a lapse of strange things there seems to be since you and I last met! The frightful murder of the poor Duke of Orleans, and your own undeserved sufferings, mark out that distant time for memory as with a monument. Between that point and this, doubtless, much has occurred to both of us that can never be forgotten. But, God help us! it is well to curb memory with a strong hand, that she run not always back to the things past, for the course of all mankind is onward. Now let us talk of what can be done for your deliverance. You must, of course, see his highness the dauphin before his meeting with the Duke of Burgundy, and I think I can warrant that he will make a strong effort for your deliverance. He is a noble and a generous prince, and will do much to serve his friends--though, Heaven knows, he has had discouragement enough to weary the heart, and sink the energies of any one. Nothing but selfishness around him, taking all the many shapes of that foul, clinging fiend which preys forever upon human nature--ambition, covetousness, petty malice, calumny, sordid envy, ingratitude--wherever he turns, there is one of its hateful Hydra heads gaping wide-mouthed upon him. Yes, you must certainly see him before the meeting, for no one knows when there may be another--The meeting! What will be the parting?" She fell into a fit of thought again, but it lasted not long; and, looking up, she added, "I know not how it is, Monsieur De Brecy, but a certain sort of dread has come upon me in regard to this meeting, and every one who approaches me seems to feel the same. I can not help remembering that this man who comes hither to-day murdered his own first cousin, when pretending the utmost affection for him, and vowing peace and amity at the altar; and I should fear for the dauphin's safety, if I did not know that he has twenty thousand men in this place and neighborhood, and that every possible precaution has been taken. What is it, I wonder, makes me feel so sad? Do you think there is any danger?" "I trust not," replied Jean Charost. "They tell me the two princes are to meet within barriers, assisted by some of their most experienced counselors; and though the castle has been given up to the duke, yet the dauphin's force is so much superior to any Burgundian body which could be brought up, that it would be madness to attempt any surprise." "Could he not secretly introduce a large force into the castle," asked Agnes, "and, rushing suddenly upon the bridge, make the dauphin his prisoner?" "He would be taken in the flank and rear," replied De Brecy, "and speedily punished for his temerity. No, dear lady, as far as I can judge, the interview must be a very safe one. But, if you wish, I will go and make further inquiries." "No, no," she replied; "you must stay here. The council may break up at any moment, and I will then introduce you to his highness--provided they do not sit till after the dinner hour, when it would be well for you to go away and return. The duke, they say, will not be here till two or three o'clock; but he has sent word from Bray that he will assuredly come. Nay, is not Madame De Giac in the castle? That is a certain sign of his coming. Now let us talk of other things, and turn our eyes once more back to other days. I love sometimes a calm, dreamy conference with memory--as one sits over a fire at eventide, and sees misty pageants of the mind rise up before the half-closed eyes, all in a bright, soft haze. Do you recollect that boy who played so beautifully upon the violin? He is now the chief musician to her highness the dauphiness. Would he were here: he would soon soften down all hard fears and doubts with sweet music." Jean Charost took his tone from her, and the conversation proceeded, quietly and tranquilly enough, for more than an hour, Agnes Sorel sometimes reverting to her companion's actual situation, but more frequently suffering her thoughts to linger about the past, as those are inclined to do who feel uncertain of the present or the future. Twice she turned the little hour-glass that stood upon the table, but at length she said, "It is in vain to wait longer, Monsieur De Brecy. His highness's dinner-hour is now fast approaching. Return to me at two o'clock; and in the mean time, if possible, see Tanneguy du Châtel. He may befriend you much, for he is greatly in the prince's favor, and, moreover, he is honest and true, though somewhat fierce, and rough of speech, and unforgiving. But he is zealous and, faithful for his prince, and, strange to say, no envier of other men who seem rising into power with less truth and less merit than himself. I will not say farewell, for we shall meet again shortly. Remember, two o'clock." Jean Charost retired at once; but, as he found his way down the stairs, he heard a door below thrown suddenly open, and several persons speaking, and even laughing, as they came out. In the hall, at the foot of the stairs, he found some twelve or fifteen persons slowly moving across, some stopping for a moment to add a word or two more to something which had gone before; others hurrying on toward the door by which he had entered the building. Among the former was a tall, powerful man, exceedingly broad in the shoulders, with a long peacock's feather in his cap, who paused for an instant just at the foot of the stairs to speak with a thin old man in a black gown. Jean Charost had just passed them, when the servant with whom he had spoken before approached the taller man as if to speak to him; and before Jean had taken ten steps more, he heard his name pronounced aloud. "Monsieur De Brecy--Monsieur De Brecy!" said the voice; and, turning round, he found the personage with the peacock's feather following him. His manner was quick and decided, and not altogether pleasant, yet there was a frankness about it which one often finds in men of a bold and ready spirit, where there is no great tenderness or delicacy of feeling--stern things and rough, but serviceable and sincere. "This letter from De Royans," he said, "comes at a moment of some hurry; but yet your business wants speedy attention. Come to my house and dine. We will talk as we eat. We have not time for ceremony." As he spoke, he took hold of Jean Charost's arm, as if he had been an old friend, and drew him on, with long strides, to the house at which the young gentleman had called in the morning. As they went, he inquired what he had done in the matter of his ransom, and when he heard that he had seen Mademoiselle De St. Geran, and interested her in his behalf, he exclaimed, "'Tis the best thing that could be done. I could not serve you as well as she can. Are you an old friend of hers?" "I knew her when she was a mere girl," answered Jean Charost. Du Châtel appeared hardly to hear his answer, for he seemed, like Agnes Sorel, subject to fits of deep thought that day; and he did not wake from the reverie into which he had fallen till they reached the door of his dwelling. Then, as they were mounting the steps, he broke forth again with the words, "She can do what she will--lucky that she always wills well for France; Let me see--" Then, speaking to a servant, he added, "Dinner instantly. Tell Marivault to have my armor all laid out ready. Come, De Brecy, all I can do for you I will. But that is only to make you known to the dauphin, and it must be hastily too. The fair Agnes must plead your cause with him, though I think it will not need much pleading." While he had been speaking, he had advanced into a little room on the left hand side of the entrance, where a small table was laid, as if for the dinner of one person, and throwing himself on a stool, he pointed to another, saying, "If this interview ends well, I think there can be no doubt of your success." "I trust it will end well," said Jean Charost "Is there any reason to think otherwise?" "Hum!" said Tanneguy du Châtel. "That will depend altogether upon the Duke of Burgundy. He is puffed up and insolent, and there be hot spirits about the dauphin. It were well for him not to use such bold words as he has lately indulged in. We all mean him well, and fairly; but if he ruffles his wings as he has lately done, he may chance to go back with his feathers singed; and then, my good friend, your suit would be of no avail. Ah, here comes the pottage. Eat, eat; for we must be quick. It must be a strange thing," he continued, after he had taken his soup; "it must be a strange thing to go about the world with the consciousness that every man in all the land believes your death would be the salvation of France! I should not like the sensation. Here, wine--boy, give me wine! God send that this all ends well. If the Duke of Burgundy will but be reasonable, sacrifice some small part of his ambition to his country's good, remember that he is a subject and a Frenchman, and fulfill his promises, we may see some happy days again, and drive these islanders from the land. If not, we are all at sea again." "I trust he will," answered Jean Charost; "but yet he is of a stern, unbending spirit, as I have cause to know." "Ha! Has he been your enemy, too?" asked Du Châtel. "Not exactly," answered Jean Charost. "Indeed, long ago he made me high offers if I would enter his service; but it was an insult rather than a compliment; for he had just then caused the assassination of the Duke of Orleans, my noble lord." Du Châtel ground his teeth. "Ah, the villain," he said. "That is a score to be wiped off yet. But you must have done something to serve him previously. John of Burgundy is not a man to court any one without some strong motive of self-interest." "I have often puzzled myself as to what could be his motive," answered Jean Charost, with a smile, "but have never been even able to guess at any inducement, unless it were some words of an astrologer at Pithiviers, who told him I should be present at his death, and try to prevent it." "Heaven send the prophesy may be soon accomplished!" exclaimed Tanneguy du Châtel, with a laugh. "I longed to send my sword through him the other day at Troyes; but I thought it would be hardly courteous in his own house, when we were eating together. But if I could meet with him, lance to lance, in the field, I think one or the other of us would not ride far after." "Shall I give you more wine, my lord?" asked a page, advancing with a flagon. "No," replied his master; "I am hot enough already. Change that dish. What is there else for dinner?" A man came in as he spoke, and said, in a low voice, "The duke is on the road, my lord." "Well, let him come," replied Du Châtel. "We are ready for him." "Perhaps he may not come on still," replied the man; "for Anthony of Thoulongeon and John of Ermay have been examining the barricades upon the bridge with somewhat dark faces, and have ridden out to meet the duke, their master." "Then let him stay away," answered Du Châtel, abruptly. "We mean him no ill. He has been courted enough. It's his own conscience makes him afraid to come. Here is some hare, De Brecy. Take some wine, take some wine. You do not require so spare a diet as I do. Odds life! they let you blood enough at Azincourt to keep you calm and tranquil." When the brief, frugal dinner was over, Tanneguy du Châtel started up, saying, "I must go get on my harness. You hurry back to the beautiful lady you wot of, and wait with her till you hear from me, unless the dauphin comes in and your business is settled. If not, I will present you to him before the interview, in the good hope that matters will go smoothly, and some fair conditions be settled for the good of France. I know not what is in me to-day. I feel as if quickened by another spirit. Well, I must get on this armor." Thus saying, he left the room, and Jean Charost found his way back to the abbey, where he was kept some time before he obtained audience of Agnes Sorel. When he was at length admitted, he found her seated with another lady somewhat younger than herself, and very beautiful also, with their arms thrown round each other's waists. Neither moved when the young gentleman entered; but Agnes, bowing her head, said, "This is Monsieur De Brecy, madam, of whom I spoke to your highness. Monsieur De Brecy, I present you to the dauphiness." Jean Charost, it need hardly be said, was greatly surprised, and, in some degree, embarrassed; for the suspicions of others had created suspicions in himself, which he now mistakenly thought were mistaken. He paid all due reverence to the dauphiness, however, and remained for nearly an hour conversing with her and the beautiful Agnes, who were both waiting anxiously, it seemed, for the appearance of the dauphin. The part of the house in which they were was very quiet; but the sounds from the country came more readily to the ear than those proceeding from the town. Some noise, like the hoof-tramp of many horses, was heard, and the dauphiness looked at Agnes anxiously. "What is that? Can you see, Monsieur De Brecy?" asked the latter; and Jean Charost sprang to the window. "A large party of horse," he answered. "I should judge from four to five hundred men." "It is the duke," exclaimed the dauphiness. "Dearest Agnes, are you sure there is no danger? Remember the Duke of Orleans." "True, madam," replied Agnes; "but he was well-nigh alone. His highness has twenty thousand men around him." The dauphiness cast down her eyes in thought, and the moment after one of the officers of the household entered, saying, "Monsieur De Brecy, the Seigneur du Châtel desires to see you below." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.