“Indeed, it is a dreadful misfortune; there will be a civil war in my kingdom. Who did it—who furnished the ladder? Mordieu! I will hang all the city! Who was it? Ten thousand crowns to whoever will tell me his name, and one hundred thousand to whoever will bring him to me, dead or alive!”
“It must have been some Angevin,” said Maugiron.
“Oh yes! we will kill all the Angevins!” cried Quelus. However, the king suddenly disappeared; he had thought of his mother, and, without saying a word, went to her. When he entered, she was half lying in a great armchair: She heard the news without answering.
“You say nothing, mother. Does not this flight seem to you criminal, and worthy of punishment?”
“My dear son, liberty is worth as much as a crown; and remember, I advised you to fly in order to gain a crown.”
“My mother, he braves me—he outrages me!”
“No; he only saves himself.”
“Ah! this is how you take my part.”
“What do you mean, my son?”
“I mean that with age the feelings grow calm—that you do not love me as much as you used to do.”