Agnes Sorel: A Novel

by G. P. R. James

There were no signs of approaching the precincts of a court, as Jean Charost proceeded on the way he had been directed. The two streets through which he passed were nearly deserted, and, being turned from the sun, looked cool and desolate enough. He began almost to fancy he had made a mistake, when, on the opposite side of a little square or close, he saw a large and very beautiful building, with a church at one end of it, and a row of stone posts before it. All that was left of it, as far as I remember, in one thousand eight hundred and twenty-one, was one beautiful doorway, with a rounded arch overhead, sinking deep with molding within molding, of many a quaint and curious device, till it made a sort of niche, under which the traveler might find shelter from the sun or rain. It was, when I saw it, used as the entrance to a granary; but two guards, with halberts on their shoulders, walking slowly up and down, and three or four servants loitering about, or sitting on the steps, showed that it had not been turned to such base uses, in the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and nineteen.

Directly toward this door De Brecy took his way, giving a glance round as he passed the corners of the houses opposite, and obtaining a view, down a short street, of the gently-flowing Seine, with its ancient bridge and the walls of the old castle. There seemed to be some curious erections on the bridge: a little pavilion, with a flag fluttering on the top, and several large wooden barricades; but De Brecy paused not to inquire what they meant, and walking straight on to one of the servants, inquired if the Seigneur du Châtel were there, adding that he had been directed thither from his quarters.

The young gentleman spoke with a tone of authority, which, probably, as well as the glistening of a military haubergeon above the neck of the monk's frock, procured him a civil answer.

"He is here, sir," answered the servant; "but is in deep conference with his highness the dauphin and several other lords. He can in no way be interrupted."

"Give him that letter when he comes from the council, and fail not," said Jean Charost. "Moreover, I must beg of you to see immediately the principal officer of his highness's household, and inform him that the Baron De Brecy, a prisoner of Azincourt, has arrived from England, bearing a letter for the dauphin from his highness the Duke of Orleans, and craves leave to lay it at his feet as soon as his convenience serves."

"I fear, sir, that will not be speedily," said the servant. "Where may you be found when his highness has occasion?"

"If Mademoiselle De St. Geran be at the court," replied Jean Charost, a little discouraged by the impediments he had met with, "I will crave an interview with her. You may tell her," he added, seeing the man take a step back as if to enter the building, "that Monsieur De Brecy waits--an acquaintance of her childhood, whom he trusts she may remember."

"You had better follow me, sir," said the servant. "She is here, and was alone some half hour ago."

Jean Charost followed the man into the abbey, one whole wing of which seemed to be appropriated to the dauphin and his train. No monks were visible; but still, the dim, religious light of the long passages and arched cloisters, the quiet courts, and galleries rich in gray stone fret-work, had a solemnity, if not a gloom, which Jean Charost thought must contrast strangely with some of those wild courtly revelries which checkered the fierce strifes and fiery passions of the age.

Passing by a number of small doors leading to the cells along the cloister, where probably the inferior followers of the court were quartered, the young gentleman was led to the foot of a flight of highly-ornamented stairs, carried boldly up through a wide, lightsome hall, round which it turned, and carved and supported with such skill and delicacy, that it seemed actually to hang in air. At the top ran round a gallery, screened by fine tracery of stone-work from the stair-case hall, and on the other hand, all round, except where the window was placed to afford light, were doors, and the opening of corridors, over the arch of one of which appeared a mitre, showing that there had formerly been the apartments of the abbot. The servant passed on to the next corridor, and then led the visitor along to the very end, where, after knocking at a door, he entered, said a few words, and then opened the door wider for Jean Charost to pass in. It was a small, but richly-decorated room he entered, with a door, apparently leading to another beyond; and at a table, covered with many-colored silks, which she seemed sorting into their different shades, sat a lady, magnificently dressed. She raised her eyes, beautiful and full of light, but with no glance of recognition in them, and for a moment De Brecy fancied there must be some mistake. There was a certain vague, shadowy likeness to the Agnes Sorel he had formerly known, but yet there was a strange difference. It was the diamond polished, compared with the diamond dull from the mine.