The widow sat down and wept, and the good merchant placed himself by the young man's side, looked down upon him with a fatherly smile, and pressed his fingers on the wrist, saying, "Ay, the Syrian drug has done marvels. Canst thou speak, my son?"
Jean Charost replied in a voice much stronger than might have been expected; but Jacques Cœur fell into a fit of thought even while he spoke, which lasted some two or three minutes, and the young man was turning toward his mother again, when the good merchant murmured, as if speaking to himself, "I know not well how to act--there are dangers every way. Listen to me, my son, but with perfect calmness, and let me have an answer from your own lips, which I can send to the great man whose messenger waits below. Two days ago we heard that the Duke of Burgundy had caused inquiries to be made concerning you, as where you were to be found, and when you had left the Hôtel d'Orleans. To-day he has sent a gentleman to inquire if you will take service with him. He offers you the post of second squire of his body, and promises knighthood on the first occasion. What do you answer, Jean?"
Jean Charost thought for a moment, and then laid his hand upon his brow; but at length he said, "'Twere better to tell him that I am too ill to answer, or even to think, but that I will either wait upon him or send him my reply in a few days."
"Wisely decided," said Jacques Cœur, rising. "That answer will do right well;" and, quitting the room, he left the door open behind him, so that the young man could hear him deliver the message word for word, merely prefacing it by saying, "He sends his humble duty to his highness, and begs to say--"
A rough voice, in a somewhat haughty tone, replied, "Is he so very ill, then, sir merchant? His highness is determined to know in all cases who is for him and who is against him. I trust you tell me true, therefore."
"You can go up, fair sir, and see," replied Jacques Cœur; "but I must beg you not to disturb him with any talk."
The other voice made no reply, but the moment after Jean Charost could hear a heavy step coming up the stairs, and a good-looking man, of a somewhat heavy countenance, completely armed, but with his beaver up, appeared in the doorway. He merely looked in, however, and the pale countenance and emaciated frame of the young gentleman seemed to remove his doubts at once.
"That will do," he said. "I can now tell what I have seen. The duke will expect an answer in a few days. If he dies, let him know, for there are plenty eager for the post, I can tell you."
Thus saying, he turned away and closed the door; and Madame De Brecy exclaimed, "God forbid that you should die, my son, or serve that bad man either."
"So say I too," replied Jean Charost. "I know not why you should feel so regarding him, dear mother, but I can not divest my mind of a suspicion that he countenanced, if he did not prompt, the death of the Duke of Orleans."