Charles was no less surprised at beholding once more the maiden and the old man who had already appeared before him, and at learning the cause of their strange dispute; for he knew not yet that they were parent and child. Notwithstanding his violent disposition, the conqueror had a heart which pity could sometimes touch, and he was powerfully moved by the sight that met his eyes.
“I pray you hear me!” cried Télésile, throwing herself at his feet. “I am a simple maiden; my life is of no account; then let me die, my lord duke! But spare, oh, spare him, the best, the noblest of men, whose life is useful to all our unhappy people!”
“Do not listen to her!” exclaimed the old man, almost too much affected to speak; “or if you do, let her own words confute her argument. You behold her courage, her piety, her self-sacrifice; and I see you are touched! You will not, you cannot, destroy so precious a life! It is I who am now worthless to my people. My days are almost spent. Even if you spare me, I have but a little while to live.”
Then Télésile, perceiving the eyes of Charles bent upon her with a look of mingled admiration and pity, said: “Do not think there is anything wonderful in my conduct; I do but my simple duty; I plead for my father’s life!”
“Yes, I am her father,” said the old man, moved by a sudden determination. “And I am something more. My lord duke, behold the man on whom you have sworn to have revenge. I am he who defended the city so long against you. Now let me die!”
At this a multitude of people broke from the line in which they had been ranged, and, surrounding the governor and his daughter, made a rampart of their bodies about them, exclaiming, “Let us die for him! We will die for our good governor!”
All the better part of the rude Charles’s nature was roused. Tears were in his own eyes, his voice was shaken by emotion. “Neither shall die!” he cried. “Old man! fair maiden! I spare your lives and, for your sake, the lives of all these people. Nay, do not thank me; for I have gained in this interview a knowledge which I could never have acquired through years of conquest—that human love is greater than kingly power, and that mercy is sweeter than vengeance!”
Well would it have been for the rash Charles could he have gained that knowledge earlier, or have shaped his future life by it even then. Still fired by ambition and love of power, he went forth to fight Duke René, who now appeared with an army to relieve his fair city of Nancy. A battle ensued, in which Charles was defeated and slain; and in the midst of joy and thanksgiving, the rightful duke entered and once more took possession of the town.
Warmly as he was welcomed, there were two who shared with him the honors of that happy day—the old man who had defended Nancy so long and well, and the young girl whose heroic conduct had saved from massacre one-tenth of all its inhabitants.