No preparation of any importance had been made to meet this peril; and the Duke of Burgundy was saved alone by the hesitating counsels of old and timid men, who still procrastinated till is was too late to act.
In the mean time, the murderer determined upon his course. He not only avowed, but attempted to justify the act upon motives so wild, so irrational, so destitute of every real and substantial foundation, that they could not deceive a child, and no one even pretended to be deceived. He accused his unhappy victim of crimes that Louis of Orleans never dreamed of--of aiming at the crown--of practicing upon the health and striking at the life of the king, his brother, by magical arts and devices. He did all, in short, to calumniate his memory, and to represent his assassination as an act necessary to the safety of the crown and the country. At the same time, he sent messengers to his good citizens of Flanders, to his vassals of Artois, to all his near relations, to all whom he could persuade or could command, to demand immediate aid and assistance against the vengeful sword which he fancied might pursue him, and he soon found himself at the head of a force with which he might set the power of his king at defiance. Lille, Ghent, Amiens, bristled with armed men, and John of Burgundy soon felt that the murder of his cousin had put the destinies of France into his hands.
While this was taking place in the north and west, a different scene was being enacted in Paris; a scene which, if the popular heart was not the basest thing that ever God created, the popular mind the lightest and most unreasonable, should have roused the whole citizens to grief for him whom they had lost, to indignation against his daring murderer. The Duchess of Orleans, accompanied by her youngest son, entered Paris as a mourner, and threw herself at the feet of her brother and her king, praying for simple justice. The will of the murdered prince was opened; and, though his faults were many and glaring, that paper showed, the frank and generous character of the man, and was refutation enough of the vile calumnies circulated against him. So firm and strong had been his confidence, so full and clear his intention of maintaining in every respect the agreement of pacification lately signed between himself and the Duke of Burgundy, that he left the guardianship of his children to the very man who had so treacherously caused his assassination. None of his friends, none who had ever served him, were forgotten, and the tenacity of his affection was shown by his remembering many whom he had not seen for years. It was not wonderful, then, that those who knew and loved him clung to his memory with strong attachment, and with a reverence which some of his acts might not altogether warrant. It would not have been wonderful if the generous closing of his life had taught the populace of Paris to forget his faults and to revere his character. But the herd of all great cities is but as a pack of hounds, to be cried on by the voice of the huntsman against any prey that is in view; and the herd of Paris is more reckless in its fierceness than any other on all the earth.
Fortune was with the Duke of Burgundy, and alas! boldness, decision, and skill likewise. He held a conference with the Duke of Berri, and the King of Sicily in his own city of Amiens, swarming with his armed men. He placed over the door of the humble house in which he lodged two lances crossed, the one armed with its steel head, the other unarmed, ungarlanded--a significant indication that he was ready for peace or war. The reproaches of the princes he repelled with insolence, and treated their counsels and remonstrances with contempt. Instead of coming to Paris and submitting himself humbly to the king, as they advised, he marched to St. Denis with a large force, and then, after a day's hesitation, entered the capital, armed cap-à-pie, amid the acclamations of the populace.
The Hôtel d'Artois, already a place of considerable strength, received additional fortifications, and all the houses round about it were filled with his armed men; but especial care was taken that the soldiery should commit no excess upon the citizens, and though he bearded his king upon the throne, and overawed the royal council, with the true art of a demagogue he was humble and courteous toward the lowest citizens, flattered those whom he despised, and eagerly sought to make converts to his party in every class of society, partly by corruption, and partly by terror. Wherever he went the people followed at his heels, shouting his name, and vociferating, "Noël, noël!" and gradually the unhappy king, oppressed by his own vassal, though adored by his people, fell back into that lamentable state from which he had but lately recovered.
Such was the state of Paris when Jean Charost raised his head, and gazed around the room in which he was lying. His sight was somewhat dim, his brain was somewhat dizzy; feeble he felt as infancy; but yet it was a pleasure to him to feel himself in that little room again, to fancy himself moving in plain mediocrity, to believe that his experience of courtly life was all a dream. What a satire upon all those objects which form so many men's vain aspirations!
When he had gazed at the window, and at the door, and at all the little objects that were scattered directly before his eyes, he turned feebly to look at things nearer to him. He thought he heard a sigh close to his bedside; but a plain curtain was drawn round the head of the bed, and he could only see from behind it part of a woman's black robe falling in large folds over the knee.
The little rustle that he made in turning seemed to attract the attention of the watcher. The curtain was gently drawn back, and he beheld his mother's face gazing at him earnestly. Oh, it was a pleasant sight; and he smiled upon her with the love that a son can only feel for a mother.
"My son--my dear son," she cried; "you are better. Oh yes, you are better?" And, darting to the door, she called to him who had just gone out, "Messire Jacques, Messire Jacques. He is awake now; and he knows me!"
"Gently, gently, dear lady," said Jacques Cœur, returning to the room. "We must have great quiet, and all will go well."