“Well, well, all is not over yet at Orleans.”
“But even if it fall, and if all seem lost, even then do not make such a shameful agreement.”
With these words the noble lady retired. The moral indignation of her manner and her words appeared to make some impression upon the Dauphin. He buried his face in his hands, and was absorbed in thought—as far as he was capable of thinking.
While thus engaged, an arras door opened behind him, revealing the charming little curly head of a girl of eighteen or nineteen years. No one could have seen that exquisite figure moving along with such easy and consummate grace without confessing he had never before seen such exquisite beauty and fascinating manner. Her charm appeared not only in her beautiful figure, but also in the gracious expression which characterized her personality and radiated from her countenance.
This maiden was the famous Agnes Sorel,[14] the favorite of Charles the Seventh, who, as history relates, was conspicuous for her womanly tenderness, and who always used her influence over the King for noble purposes and never for personal ends.
The Dauphin was not aware of her presence until he felt the light touch of her hand upon his shoulder. The sight of her was magical in its effect. His face lightened up, and all traces of dejection disappeared.
“Is it you, Agnes? Now everything is all right.”
“What has been wrong?” she asked most tenderly.
“Marie has been here. She has made my head ache and has nearly ruined my appetite. But—”
“I know all about it,” interrupted Agnes.