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Agnes Sorel

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<h4>CHAPTER LIII.</h4> A little after ten o'clock at night, a party of some five-and-twenty persons, escorting one of the large horse-litters of the day, stopped in the court-yard of the old Castle of St. Florent. One or two servants came forth to meet them, and instantly recognized De Brecy's right to admission. Lights were procured; and the young nobleman himself, handing Agnes Sorel from the litter, led her into the great hall, while Jacques Cœur followed with Jeanne de Vendôme. "My indignation at that woman's duplicity," whispered Agnes Sorel, as they advanced, "has made me very thirsty. Let them bring me some water, my friend." Jean Charost gave the order she desired to the servant who went before them with the lights, and the whole party of four paused for an instant in the hall, Agnes Sorel bending her eyes upon the ground, as if lost in thought. Suddenly, however, she raised her head, saying, "Come, De Brecy, I will not keep you from your love. I will lead you to her. I know where she is to be found." "Ha!" said Jeanne de Vendôme, with a very marked emphasis, as Jean Charost and his fair companion left the room. "Will you not go with them, madam?" asked Jacques Cœur, who had no great love for the lady left behind. "I think not," replied Jeanne de Vendôme, in a quiet, easy tone. "Lovers' meetings should have as few witnesses as possible;" and she and Jacques Cœur remained in the hall, the good merchant going to the window, and gazing out upon the night. A minute or two after, the servant returned with a flagon of water from the castle well, and a silver drinking-cup. These he set upon the table, and retired. Jeanne de Vendôme gazed at them for a moment, and then said, aloud, "I am thirsty too." Quietly approaching the table, she placed herself in such a position as to stand between the flagon and Jacques Cœur, poured herself out some water, drank, set down the cup again, and after remaining a short time in that position, turned to the window, and took her place beside the merchant. In the mean time, Jean Charost, with a light in his hand, accompanied Agnes Sorel up the stairs, and through a long passage at the top. "You seem to know the castle even better than I do," he said, as she guided him on. "I have been this road in secret once before," she answered, gayly. "Mine is a happier errand now, De Brecy. But we must thread out the labyrinth. I have hid your little gem where best it might lie concealed." A few moments more, however, brought them to a door which Agnes Sorel opened, and there, with an elderly waiting-maid of Madame De Brecy's, stood his own Agnes, gazing with anxious terror toward the door. She was somewhat pale, somewhat thinner than she had been, and the noise of horses' feet in the court below had made her heart beat fearfully. The moment she saw De Brecy, however, she sprang forward and cast herself into his arms. He pressed her closely to his heart; but all he could say was, "My Agnes--my own Agnes--all is well, and you are mine." Agnes Sorel put a fair hand upon the arm of each. "May you love ever as you love now," she said, "and may God bless you in your love. Oh, De Brecy, just a year ago you gave me the most painful moment I have ever felt. When I told you I would guard and protect her, there came such a look--oh, such a look into your face--a look of doubt and fear, more reproachful, more monitory, more condemnatory than any thing but my own heart has ever spoken. I give her back to you now, pure, and bright, and true as you left her with me, with the bloom and brightness of her mind as fresh and unsoiled as ever. Love her, and be beloved, and may God bless you ever." De Brecy took her hand and kissed it. "For how much have I to thank you," he answered; "for all--for every thing; for I am certain that but for your influence this happy meeting would have never been." "It might not," answered Agnes, with a cheek glowing with many emotions. "But I call Heaven to witness, De Brecy, the influence I unrightly possess has never been, and never shall be exercised but to do justice, to prompt aright, and to lead to honor. Now let us go. Agnes, you must back with us to the court as the bride of him you love. Make no long preparation nor delay. You will find us waiting for you in the hall. Come, De Brecy, come. More lovers' words another time." When they reached the hall, Agnes advanced at once to the table, filled the cup, and drank; then, turning gayly to Jacques Cœur, she said, "We have not been long, my friend. I went on purpose to cut caresses short. Our fair companion will be here anon. How brightly the stars are shining. Methinks it would be very pleasant if one could wing one's way there up aloft, and look into the brilliant eyes of heaven." A minute or two after, she turned somewhat pale, and seated herself in a large arm-chair which stood near. She said nothing; but an expression of pain passed across her countenance. Shortly after, De Brecy's Agnes entered, prepared to go; and Agnes Sorel rose, supporting herself by the arm of the chair, and saying, "Let us be quick; I feel far from well." She was soon placed in the litter, and they went on quickly toward Bourges; but once or twice, during the short journey, Jacques Cœur put forth his head, urging the drivers of the litter to make more haste. When they entered the court-yard of his house, and the litter stopped before the great door, the good merchant sprang out at once, saying, "Help me to carry her in, Jean. She is very ill." They lifted her out in their arms, and bore her into the house, pale and writhing. Confusion and dismay spread through the court. Physicians were called, and gave some relief. She became somewhat better--well enough to travel to a distant castle; but, ere six weeks were over, the kind, the beautiful, the frail was in her grave, and none knew how she died. From that moment a fear of poison seized upon the mind of Charles the Seventh, and affected the happiness of all his after days. The king did not keep his promise of being present at the marriage of De Brecy and Agnes de St. Florent, and their own joy was baptized in sorrow. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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