At no time had Anne de France been handsome, and perhaps her features were more agreeable in old age than in youth. Her countenance was hard, strongly marked, and entirely devoid of feminine expression. Always meagre of person, she became thinner and more rigid as she advanced in life. Her manner was cold and severe, but her deportment did not lack dignity.
At the time when we discover her, the Dame de Beaujeu seemed utterly prostrated by illness. Her features were wasted and haggard, and all her movements evinced extreme debility. She was attired in black velvet, richly trimmed with sable. Around her throat she wore a gorget, and her venerable locks were partially concealed by a black velvet hood. She had been brought in a litter to the palace, and had to be carried up to the salle de Saint Louis. Her physician, Mathieu Bernard, accompanied her, and was now standing at a little distance, describing her precarious condition to Cornelius Agrippa.
Is it possible her grace can have journeyed hither from Paris, doctor? inquired Agrippa.
She heard that the Constable de Bourbon had been summoned to Fontainebleau by the king, and insisted upon coming hither, replied Mathieu Bernard. All my efforts to dissuade her grace were vain.
She will scarce get back again, replied Agrippa.
Making a profound obeisance to Claude, Bourbon knelt reverentially to his mother-in-law, and kissed her withered hand. The old duchess immediately raised him, and embraced him tenderly.
Your looks bespeak trouble, my son, she said, regarding him anxiously. Tell me what has happened?
Bourbon relieved his bursting heart by a full description of his interview with the Duchess dAngoulême, and the quarrel that had ensued between him and the king. Both Claude and the old duchess listened to his narration with profound interest. At its close, the queen said:
I sympathise with you deeply, prince, but do not let the injuries you have received make you swerve from your loyalty to the king.
Justice must and shall be done you, Charles, cried the Dame de Beaujeu. I will go to the Duchess dAngoulême at once. Your arm, Charles give me your arm.
You are not equal to the effort, madame, said the Constable.
If it costs me my life, I will see her, cried the resolute old duchess. And she took a few steps, but her strength then utterly failed her, and she would have fallen but for the Constables support.
Her physician and Cornelius Agrippa, who had been anxiously watching her, flew to her assistance.
Oh! that; I had but one hour left of my former strength! I should die content, she groaned.
Drink of this, madame, said Cornelius Agrippa, offering her a phial. It is a sovereign elixir, and will restore you.
But she had not strength to take the phial, and was evidently sinking.
Bourbon, however, placed the elixir to her lips, and made her swallow a few drops. The effect was instantaneous and almost magical. New strength seemed imparted to her limbs, the hue of health returned to her cadaverous cheeks, and she was able to stand without support.
You have given me new life, she said to Agrippa.
Waste not a moment of it, madame, he replied. It may not be of long duration.
Just then, the great folding-doors at the end of the hall were thrown open, and the king, accompanied by the Duchess dAngoulême and Bonnivet, entered the salon. Behind them came a crowd of courtiers, amongst whom were Montmorency, Saint-Vallier, and René de Bretagne.
I have my wish. She is here! cried the old duchess.
On the entrance of the king, Claude advanced to meet him, and the Dame de Beaujeu followed closely behind her, marching with the firmness and majesty of former years. As he beheld her move along in this way, Mathieu Bernard observed to Agrippa:
You have performed a miracle.
I have but restored the vital energies for a moment, replied the other. It is the last flash of the expiring taper.
The royal party met in the centre of the salon. Bourbon had followed his mother-in-law, and Saint-Vallier and René came over and stationed themselves beside him.
I am sorry to learn, sire, said Claude, that our cousin, the Constable de Bourbon, has incurred your displeasure. Let me intercede for him with your majesty.
It is true that the Duke dc Bourbon has deeply offended me, said the king. But it is not too late for his restoration to favour.
You hear that, prince, said Claude to the Constable. All may yet be well.
Sire, interposed the Dame de Beaujeu, I ask for justice to my son-in-law, the Duke de Bourbon. Has he not served you faithfully? Has he not brought you men and treasure? Has he not bled for you in the field? And how has he been rewarded? By slights, by the withdrawal of his pensions, by the spoliation of his property, by disgrace, by dishonour. Sire, wrongs like these are enough to make a traitor of the noblest and most loyal heart in France.
No wrong, madame, has been done to the Constable de Bourbon, rejoined the king. But, if I am not misinformed, he has already played the traitor.
Bourbon looked sternly at the king, but took no other notice of the insinuation.
Believe it not, sire, said the Dame de Beaujeu. Whoso has told you that has spoken falsely, she added, glancing at the Duchess dAngoulême. Charles de Bourbon is no traitor. But goad him not to desperation by wrongs greater than any man can tamely endure.
Peace, madame. You trouble the king, said the Duchess dAngoulême.
What! exclaimed the Dame de Beaujeu, regarding her with unutterable scorn. Is Anne of France, daughter of Louis XI., the wisest and the greatest monarch that ever sat on the throne, to hold her peace at the bidding of Louise de Savoie? But I will not be silent. I will tell the king, your son, that he has done a flagrant act of injustice in aiding you to avenge yourself upon the Duke de Bourbon. All shall know the cause of your animosity.
I will hear no more, cried François, impatiently.
Listen to me, sire, I beseech you, said Queen Claude. You have done Bourbon grievous wrong. Make him some amends. You know I rarely interfere with your proceedings, but in this case I cannot refrain. I would not have you commit injustice.
Do you also tax me with injustice? said the king, frowning.
I have said it, sire, she replied.
I should be wanting in duty to your majesty if I remained silent, said Montmorency. In my opinion, Bourbon has been unjustly treated.
You, too, against me, marshal? cried the king.
I will answer for Bourbons loyalty with my head, sire, said Saint-Vallier.
And so will I, added René de Bretagne.
I take you at your word, messieurs, replied François. Charles de Bourbon, you are free to depart.
Sire, you do wrong in granting this permission, sad the Duchess dAngoulême.
Beware, madame, said the Dame de Beaujeu, stepping towards her. And clutching her hand, she whispered, Interfere, and I will proclaim your infamy to all around.
Bourbon tarried not a moment. With a haughty obeisance, and with a look of ill-disguised menace at the king, he quitted the salon, followed by Saint-Vallier and René.
This time he experienced no hindrance from the guard, but passing through the vestibule, and descending the great horse-shoe staircase, he mounted his steed, and rode off with his escort.
As Cornelius Agrippa had predicted, the Dame do Beaujeu expired on her litter on the way back to Paris.