"Well, then, dear lady, I am sent to tell his highness, from our good friend Jacques Cœur, that a hundred thousand crowns of the sun are by this time waiting his pleasure at Moulins, and that two hundred thousand more will be there in one month."
"Joy, joy," cried Agnes, clasping her hands; "oh, this is joyful indeed! But then," she added, "Heaven send that it be used aright. I fear--oh, I fear--Nay, nay, I will fear no more! It is undeserved misfortune crushes the noble heart, bows the brave spirit, and takes its energy away from greatness. Have you told him, De Brecy? What did he say? How did he look? Not with light joy, I hope; but with grave, expectant satisfaction, as a prince should look who finds his people's deliverance nigher than he thought."
"I have not seen him," replied De Brecy, "first, because I knew not well how to gain admission, and, secondly, because I wished that you should have the opportunity of telling him of a change of fortunes, hoping--knowing that you would direct his first impulses aright."
"I--I?" exclaimed Agnes. "Oh, De Brecy, De Brecy, I am unworthy of such a task! How should I direct any one aright? Yet it matters not what I be--Weak, frail, faulty as I am--the courage and resolution, the energy and purpose, which once possessed me solely, shall, all that is left, be given to him and to France. One error shall not blot out all that is good in my nature. Ha! here come the lights--"
She paused for a moment or two, while the servant entered, placed lights upon the table, and retired; and then, in a much calmer tone, resumed the discourse.
"I have been much moved to-day," she said, "but even this brief pause of thought has been sufficient to show me the right way--Lights, you have done me service," she added, with a graceful smile. "Come, De Brecy, I will lead you to her who alone is worthy, and fitted to give these good tidings--to my friend--to my dear good friend--the princess, his wife."
"But you have forgotten," replied Jean Charost. "I have other tidings to tell."
"Ha!" she said, "and those mingled--I did forget, indeed. Say what it is, De Brecy. We must not raise up hopes to dash them down again."
"That will not be the effect," said De Brecy. "The news I have is sad, yet full of hope. That which has been wanting on the side of his highness and of France, in this terrible struggle against foreign enemies and internal traitors, has been the king's name. In his powerless incapacity, the mighty influence of the monarch's authority has been arrayed against the friends, and for the foes of France. Dear lady, it will be so no more!"
"No more!" exclaimed Agnes, eagerly, and with her whole face lighting up. "Has he been snatched from their hands, then? Tell me, De Brecy, how? when? where? But you look grave, nay, sad. Is the king dead?"