bolical countenances expressing hatred or else the vile curi-
osity of men accustomed to the hangman's office, Philippe
Goulenoire sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.
" 'Sdeath !" cried he, snatching his dagger from under his
pillow. "It is time to be trying knife-play !"
"Oh, ho !" cried Tristan. "I smell the gentleman ! It
strikes me that we have here Georges d'Estouteville, nephew
to the grand captain of the crossbowmen."
On hearing his true name proclaimed by Tristan, young
d'Estouteville thought less of himself than of the danger
his unhappy mistress would be in if he were recognized. To
divert suspicion, he exclaimed:
"By all the devils, help ! All good vagabonds, help !"
After this terrible outcry, uttered by a man who v/as abso-
lutely desperate, the young courtier with one tremendous
bound, poniard in hand, rushed out to the stairs. But the
Provost's followers were used to such adventures. As soon
as Georges d'Estouteville had reached the steps, they dexter-
ously captured Irim, undaunted by the vigorous thrust he
made at one of them, which fortunately slipped on the man's
breastplate. They disarmed him, tied his hands, and threw
him back on his bed under the eyes of their chief, who
stood thoughtful and immovable.
Tristan silently examined the prisoner's hands, and scratch-
ing his chin he pointed them out to Cornelius, saying :
"Those are no more the hands of a robber than those of an
apprentice. He is of noble birth."
"Say rather of ignoble eartli," cried the Fleming, dolefully.
"My good Tristan, whether he be noble or base-born, the vil-
lain has undone me. I would I might see him at this moment
with his hands and feet toasting, or fitted into your neat little
boots. He is beyond a doubt the captain of the invisible
legion of devils who know all my secrets, open all my locks,
MAITRE CORNELIUS . 331
rob me, and kill me by inches. They are rich by now, my
friend. Ah! But this time we will have their treasure, for
this fellow looks like the King of Egypt. I shall get back
my precious rubies and vast sums of money ; our good King
shall have his hands full of crowns."
"Oh, our hiding-places are safer than yours !" said Georges,
smiling.
"Ah, the damned villain, he confesses !" exclaimed the
miser.
The Provost Marshal, meanwhile, had been examining
the prisoner's clothes and the lock.
"Was it you who unscrewed all those rivets?"
Georges made no reply.
"Oh, very well; hold your tongue if you like. You will
confess presently to Saint-Iiack-bones," said Tristan.
"Ah, now you talk sense !" cried Cornelius.
"Lead him away," said the Provost.
Georges d'Estouleville asked permission to dress. At a
sign from their master, the men-at-arms dressed the prisoner
with the dexterous rapidity of a nurse who takes advantage
of a moment when her baby is quiet, to change its clothes.
A great crowd had collected in the Rue du Murier. Their
murmurs grew louder every moment, and seemed to threaten
a riot. Rumors of the theft, had been rife in the town from
an early hour. Popular sympathy was in favor of the appren-
tice, who was said to be young and good-looking, and there
was a general revival of hatred against Cornelius ; so there
was never a good mother's son, nor a young woman blest
with neat feet and a rosy face, who was not eager to see the
victim. There was a fearful uproar as soon as Georges ap-
peared in the street, led by one of the Provost's men who,
though mounted on a horse, held the strong leather thong
by which the prisoner was secured, twisted round his arm,
while the young man's hands were tightly tied. Whether
it was merely to see Philippe Goulenoire, or in the hope of a
rescue, those behind pushed those in front close up to the
332 MAITKE CORNELIUS
guard of cavalry posted outside the Malemaison. At this
iiibtant Cornelius and his sister slammed the door and closed
the shutters with the vehemence of panic terror. Tristan,
who was not accustomed to respect the populace, saw that
the mob was not yet master, and cared not a straw for any
riot.
"Push on, push on !" said he to his men.
At their master's word the bowmen urged their horses
towards the end of the street. And then, seeing two or three
inquisitive mortals fallen under the horses' feet, and some
others crushed against the walls where tlic}^ were being stifled,
the crowd that had collected took the wiser part and went
home again.
"Make way for the King's justice !" cried Tristan. "What
business have you here? Do you want to be hanged, too?
Go home, good folks, your roast meat is burning j Now then,
goodwife, your husband's hose need mending; go back to
your needle."
Although these facetious remarks showed that the Pro-
vost was in high good humor, the most daring fled from
him as if he were the Black Death. Just as the crowd
began to give wa}-, Georges d'Estouteville was startled to
see, at one of the windows of the Hotel de Poitiers, his beloved
Marie de Saint- Yallier, laughing with the Count. She was
laughing at him, the unhappy, devoted lover, who was going
to death for her sake. Nay, perhaps she only was amused
by those in the crowd whose caps had been knocked off by
the archer's accoutrements.
A man must be three and twenty and rich indeed in
illusions, must dare to trust in a woman's love, must love
with all the powers of his being, and, after risking his life
^\'ith joy on the faith of a kiss, must feel himself betrayed,
ere he can understand the rage, hatred, and despair that
surged up in the young man's soul as he saw his mistress
laughing and vouchsafing him only a cold and indifferent
glance. She had, no doubt, been there some time, for her
arms rested on a cushion. She was evidently quite com-
MAITRE CORNELIUS S3S
fortable, and her old ogre quite content. He was laughing,
too, — curse him for a Lunehbaek !
A tear or two trickled from the young man's eyes; but
when Marie saw them, she hastily drew back. And sud-
denly Georges' eyes were dry, for he descried the red and
black feathers of the page who was devoted to him.
The Count did not observe the movements of that cau-
tious servant, who came in on tiptoe. The page spoke a
word in his mistress' ear, and then Marie came back to
the window. She contrived to evade the watchful eye of
her tyrant long enough to flash a look at her lover — the
look of a woman who has skilfully deceived her Argus —
bright with the fires of love and the triumph of hope.
"I am watching over you." If she had shouted the words,
it could not have expressed so many things as this glance,
embodying a thousand thoughts, and charged with the
alarms, the joys, the perils, of their situation. It bore him
from heaven to martyrdom, and from martyrdom to heaven.
And so the young man, light-hearted and content, marched
on to execution, counting the anguish of the torture-cham-
ber as a small price for the raptures of love.
As Tristan was turning out of the Rue du Miirier, his
^men drew up at the presence of an officer of the Scottish
Guard, who rode up at full tilt.
"What is to do?" asked the Provost.
"Nothing that concerns you," replied the officer, scorn-
fully. "The King has sent me to summon the Comte and
Comtesse de Saint- Vallier, whom he bids to dine at his
table."
Hardly had the Provost reached the quay of Le Plessis
when the Count and his wife, both riding, she on a white
mule and he on his horse, and followed by two pages, came
up with the bowmen to enter the precincts of the chateau
m their company. The whole party went but slowly.
Georges was on foot, between two men-at-arms, one of whom
still led him by the thong.
Tristan, the Count, and his wife naturally led the van,
334 MAITnE CORNKLItJS
and the criminal came behind. The younger page, mingling
with the bowmen, was questioning them, or from time to
time addressing the prisoner; and he cleverl}- seized an
opportunity to say in an undertone :
"I climbed over the garden wall of Le Plcssis, and carried
a letter that madame had written to the King. She thought
she would have died when she heard that you were accused
of theft. Be of good courage; she will speak for you.''
Love had already lent the Countess courage and craft.
When she had laughed, her attitude and mirth were due to
the heroism women can display in the gTcat crises of life.
jSTotwithstanding the singular caprice which led the
author of Queniin Durward to place the chateau of Plessis-
les-Tours on a height, we are compelled to leave it where
it really stood at that time, in a hollow, protected on two
sides by the Cher and the Loire, and again by the canal,
named by Louis XL the Canal Sainte-Anne in honor of his
favorite daughter, Madame de Beaujeu. By uniting the
two rivers between Tours and Le Plessis, this canal was at
once a formidable protection to the stronghold and a valu-
able highway for trade. On the side next to the broad
and fertile plain of Brehemont, the park was enclosed behind
a moat, of which the enormous width and depth are suffi -
ciently shown by what remains.
Thus, at a period when the power of artillery was in its
infancy, the position of Le Plessis, long since chosen by
Louis XT. as his favorite retreat, might be regarded as
impregnable. The chateau itself was built of brick and
stone, and not in any way remarkable, but it was sur-
rounded by fine groves, and from its windows, through the
alleys of the park (Plexitium), the loveliest views possible
could be seen. And no rival mansion was to be found any-
where near this lovely palace standing exactly in the middle
of the little plain enclosed for the King within four effectual
bulwarks of water. If tradition may be trusted, Louis XL
occupied the western Mdng, and he could from his room see
at once the course of the Loire, and bevond the river the
MAITRE CORNELIUS 335
pretty valley watered by the Choisille, and part of the hills
of Saint-Cyr; from the windows overlooking the courtyard
he commanded the entrance to his fortress, and the quay
by which his favorite residence was connected with the city
of Tours. The King's suspicious temper gives weight to this
tradition. And certainly, if Louis XI. had but lavished in
the building of this palace such architectural magnificence
as Francois I. afterwards indulged at Chambord, the home
of the kings of France would have been permanently fixed in
Touraine. This beautiful spot, and its lovely scenery, have
only to be seen to prove its superiority over the situation of
any other royal residence.
Louis XL, now in his fifty-seventh year, had scarcely
three more years to live, and was already made aware of
the approach of death by attacks of illness. Delivered now
from his enemies, and on the eve of adding to the kingdom
of France iiU the possessions of the duch}^ of Burgundy,
by means of a marriage, arranged by Desquerdes, the cap-
tain-general of his army in Flanders, between the Dauphin
and Marguerite, sole heiress of Burgundy; having secured
his authority in every part of his realm, while still planning
wise improvements, he saw time slipping from his grasp,
nothing left to him but the troubles of advancing years.
Deceived by everybody, even by his creatures, experience
had increased his natural distrustfulness. The desire to
live had become in him the egoism of a king who had made
himself one incarnate with his people, and who craved for
long life to carry out vast schemes.
Everything that the good sense of public-spirited states-
men or the instinct of revolution has since achieved in
reforming the monarch}^, Louis XL had thought out.
Equality of taxation, and that of all subjects in the eye of
the Law — the Sovereign was the Law then — were objects
he boldly strove for. On the day before All Saints he had
assembled certain learned goldsmiths to establish uniform
weights and measures throughout France, as he had already
established uniform authority. Thus his great mind soared
3S6 MAITKE GORxNELIUS
eagle-like above the whole kingdom, and Louis XI. added
to the cautiousness of a king the eccentricities that are nat-
ural to men of loft}' genius.
So grand a figure would at no period, have appeared more
poetical or more dignified. A strange mixture of contrasts!
A great will in a feeble frame; a mind incredulous as to
earthly things, credulous as concerned religious practices; a
man combating two forces greater than himself — the pres-
ent and the future: the future, when he dreaded to endure
torment, which made him sacrifice so largely to the Church;
the present, his actual life, for whose sake he was a slave
to Coyctier. This King, v.ho could crush whom he would,
was crushed by remorse, and yet more by sickness, in the
midst of all the mysterious prestige that enwraps a suspi-
cious king, in whom all power centres.
It was the stupendous and always impressive struggle
of man in the fullest expression of his power, rebelling against
nature.
While waiting till the dinner hour, at that time between
eleven o'clock and noon, Louis XL, after a short walk, was
sitting in a large tapestried armchair in the chimney-corner
of his own room. Olivier le Daim and Coyctier, the leech,
looked at each other witliout a word, standing in a window-
ba}', and resiDecting their master's slumbers. The only
sound to be heard was that made in the ante-room by the two
chamberlains-in- waiting, as they paced to and fro; the Sire
de Montrcsor and Jean Dufou, Sire de Montbazon. These
two, gentlemen of the Touraine, kept an eye on the captain
of the Scottish Guard, who was probably asleep in his chair,
aa was his custom.
The King seemed to be dozing; his head was sunk on his
breast; his cap, pulled over his brow, almost concealed his
eyes. Thus huddled in his raised throne, which was sur-
mounted bv a crown, he looked like a man who had fallen
asleep in the midst of some deep calculation.
At this moment Tristan and his party were crossing the
MAITRE CORNELIUS 837
bridge of Sainte-Anne over the canal, at about two hundred
paces from the entrance to the chateau.
"Who goes there?" asked the King.
The courtiers looked inquiringly at each other in surprise.
"He is dreaming," whispered Coyctier.
" Basques Dieu!" cried the King. "Do you take me for
a fool ? Somebody is coming across the bridge. To be sure,
I am sitting by the chimney, and of course can hear the
sound more clearly than you can. That natural effect might
be utilized "
"What a man !" said Olivier le Daim.
Louis XL rose and went to the window, whence he could
look out on the town; then he saw the High Provost, and
exclaimed :
"Ah ha ! Here is my old gossip with his thief. And
there, too, conies my little Marie de Saint- Vallier. I had
forgotten that little matter. Olivier," he Avent on, address-
ing the barber, "go and tell Monsieur de Montbazon to put
us some fine Burgundy on the table; and see that the cook
gives us lampreys. Madame la Comtes«e dearly likes them
both. May I eat lampreys?" he added after a pause, with
an uneasy look at Coyctier.
His attendant's only reply was to examine his master's
face. The two men made a picture.
History and romance have consecrated the brown camlet
overcoat, and trunks of the same material worn by Louis XL
His cap, garnished with pewter medals, and his collar of the
Order of Saint-Michael, are no less famous; but no writer,
no painter, has ever shown us the terrible King's face in
his later days: a sickly face, hollow, yellow, and tawny,
every feature expressive of bitter cunning and icy irony.
There was, indeed, a noble brow to this mask, a brow fur-
rowed with lines and seam.ed with lofty thought, but on his
cheeks and lips a singularly vulgar and common stamp.
Certain details of that countenance would have led to the
conclusion that it belonged to some debauched old vine-
grower, some miserly tradesman; but then, through these
338 MAITRE CORNELIUS
vague suggestions and the decrepitude of a d3dng old man,
the King flashed out, the man of power and action. His
eyes, pale and yellow, looked extinct; but a spark lurked
within of courage and wrath, which at the least touch
would flame up into consuming fires.
The physician was a sturdy citizen, dressed in black,
with a florid, keen, and greedy face, giving himself airs of
importance.
The setting of these two figures was a room paneled with
walnut w^ood, and hung with fine Flemish tapestry above the
wainscot; the ceiling, supported on carved beams, was
already blackened by smoke. The furniture and bedstead,
inlaid with arabesques in white metal, would seem more
valuable now than they really were at that time, when the
arts were beginning to produce so many masterpieces.
"Lampre}'' is very bad for you," replied the physician.*
"\yhat am I to eat, then?" the King humbly asked.
"Some widgeon, with salt. Otherwise you are so full of
bile that you might die on All Souls' day."
"To-day?" cried the King, in great alarm.
"Oh, be easy. Sire, I am here," replied Coyctier. "Try
not to fret, and amuse A^ourself a little."
"Ah," said the King, "my daughter used to be skilled in
that dilTicult art."
â– Just then Imbert de Bastarnay, Sire de Montresor and
de Bridore, gently knocked at the royal door. By the
King's leave he came in, announcing the Comte and Com-
tesse de Saint- Vallier. Louis nodded. Marie entered the
room, followed by her old husband, who allowed her to pre-
cede him.
"Good-da}', my children," said the King.
"Sire," said the lady in a whisper, as she embraced him,
"I would fain speak with you in private."
Louis XL made as though he had not heard her.
"Dufou, hola !" cried he, in a hollow voice.
*Le physicien : this word then lately substituted for ma'tre viyrrhe (or leech) hf-i
been retained in English. II was genera! ly used in France at thnt time, —Balsac.
MAITEE CORNELIUS 339
Dufoii, Lord of Montbazon and high cupbearer of
France, hastened in.
"Go to the steward; I must have a widgeon for dinner.
Then go to Madame de Beaujeu and tell her that I dine
alone to-day. Uo you know, madame," the King went on,
affecting some little anger, "that you neglect me? It is
nearly three years since I saw you last. Come, come
hither, pretty one," he added, sitting down and holding out
his arms to her. "How thin you are ! What do you do to
make her so thin ? Heli ?" he suddenly asked, turning to the
Count.
The jealous wretch gave his wife such a pathetic look
that she was almost sorry for him.
"It is happiness. Sire," he replied.
"Oh, ho ! You are too fond of each other," said the
King, holding his daughter upright on his knees. "Well,
well, I see I was right, then, when I called you Marie-pleine-
de-Grace. Coyctier, leave us ! ISTow, what do you want
of me?" he added, to his daughter, as the leech disappeared.
"When you sent me your "
In such peril Marie audaciously laid her hand on the
King's mouth, and said in his ear :
"I always thought you secret and keen-witted "
"Saint-Yallier," said the King, laughing, "I believe that
Bridore has something to say to you."
The Count left the room; but he shrugged one shoul-
der in a way his wife knew only too well ; she could guess
the jealous monster's thoughts, and concluded that she must
be on her guard against his malignancy.
"Now tell me, child, how do you think I am looking? Am
I much altered?"
"Gramercy, my lord, do you want the truth? Or shall
I speak you fair?"
"No," said he, in a husky voice, "I want to know where
I stand."
"In that case, you look but ill to-day. But I trust my
truthfulness may not mar the success of my business,"
340 MAITRE CORNELIUS
"What is it?" asked the King, passing one of his hands
over his knitted brows.
"Well, Sire," said she, "the young man who has been
arrested in the house of your treasurer Cornelius, and who
is at tliis present in the hands of your Provost Marshal,
is innocent of stealing the jewels of Bavaria."
"How do you know?" asked the King.
Marie hung her head, and blushed.
"I need not ask if there is a love-affair at the bottom oi
this," said Louis XI., gently raising nis daughter's face, and
stroking her chin. "If you do not confess every morning,
child, 3^ou will go to hell."
"And cannot you oblige me without violating my secret
thoughts ?"
"What would be the pleasure of that?" exclaimed the
King, seeing that there might be some amusement in the
matter.
"Oh, but you would not wash your pleasure to cost me
sorrow ?"
"Heh ! sly puss, do not you trust me ?"
"Well, then, my lord, set this young gentleman free."
"Oh, ho ! So he is a gentleman !" cried the King. "Then
he is not an apprentice?"
"He is most certainly innocent," said she.
"I do not see it in that light," said the King, coldly. "I
am the supreme judge in my kingdom, and it is my duty
to punish malefactors."
"Nay, come, do not put on your considering face. Grant
me the young man's life !"
"Would not that be giving you back what is your own?"
"Sire," said she, "I am honest and virtuous. You are
mocking me."
I "Well, then," said the King, "as I cannot see my way in.
this business, let Tristan throw some light upon it."
]\Iarie de Sassenage turned pale. With a violent effort she
said:
"Sire, I assure you that you will be in despair if you de
MAITRE CORNELIUS 341
The so-eallect thief has stolen nothing. If you will promise
me his pardon, I will tell you everything, even if you should
visit it on me."
"Oh, ho! This looks serious/' said Louis XI., setting his
cap aside. "Speak, my child."
"Well," said she, in a low voice, and speaking with her lips
close to her father's ear, "the gentleman spent the night in
my room."
"He may have gone to see you, and yet have robbed Cor-
nelius — a double larceny."
"Sire, I have your blood in my veins, and I am not the
woman to love a vagabond. This gentleman is the nephew
of the captain-general of your crossbowmen."
"Go on," said the King. "It is very hard to get anything
out of you."
As he spoke, Louis flung his daughter off to some dis-
tance; and she stood trembling while he ran to the door
into the next room, but on tiptoe, and without making a
sound. A moment since the light from a window in the
outer room, shining beneath the door, had shown him the
shadow of a pair of feet close to the entrance. He suddenly
opened the iron-bound door, and surprised the Comte de
Saint-Vallier, who was listening.
"Pasques Dicu!" cried he "this is such insolence as
deserves the axe."
"My liege," said Saint-Vallier, boldly, "I would rather
have the axe at my neck than the ornament of the married
on my forehead."
"You may live to have both," said the King. "jSTot a
man of you all is secure against those two misfortunes, my
'lords. Go into the farther ante-room. Conyngham," he went
on. addressing the Scottish captain, "were you asleep? And
where is Monsieur Bridore? Do you allow me to be thus
invaded? Pasques Dleu! the plainest citizen in Tours is
better served than I am."
Having thus vented his anger, Louis came back into his
room ; but he took care to draw the tapestry curtains which
342 MAITRE CORNELIUS
covered the door on tlie inner side, less for the purpose of
moderating the cold draught than of smothering the King's
words.
''And so, daughter," said he, amusing himself by teasing
her, as a cat plays with a mouse it has caught, "Georges
d'Estouteville was your gallant yesterday?"
"Oh, no, Sire !"
"aSTo ? Then by Saint-Carpion ! he deserves to die. The
villain did not think my daughter fair enough perhaps."
"Oh, if that is all," said she, "I assure you he kissed my
feet and hands with such ardor as might have melted the
most virtuous wife. He loves me, but honestly, as a gentle-
man should."
"And do you take me for Saint-Louis that you foist such
a tale on me? A youngster of that pattern would have
risked his life to kiss your slippers or your sleeve ! Xay,
nay ''
"Ay, my lord, but it is true. Still he came for another
reason."
As she spoke, it struck Marie that she had imperiled her
husband's life, for Louis at once eagerly inquired :
"For what?"
The adventure was amusing him hugely. He certainly
did not expect the strange revelations now made by his
daughter, after stipulating for her husband's pardon.
"'Oh, ho ! Monsieur de Saint- Vallier, so this is the way
you draw the blood royal !" cried the King, his eyes blazing
with wrath.
At this moment the bell of Le Plessis rang to call the
King's escort to arms. Leaning on his daughter's arm,
Louis XL appeared on the threshold and found his guard in
attendance. He first glanced dubiously at the Comte de
Sain i,- Vallier, considering the sentence he was about to pro-