Agnes Sorel: A Novel

by G. P. R. James

"Yes, yes--yes!" said Agnes, throwing her arm round his neck. "I am yours. I ever have been yours. I ever will be yours. You can not make me otherwise, do as you will."

"I will never try," replied Jean Charost, kissing her. "Dear mother," he continued, as Madame De Brecy re-entered the room, "here is now your daughter, indeed. I know you can not love her more than you do; but you will love her now for my sake, as well as her own."

Madame De Brecy held wide her arms, and Agnes flew to her bosom. "My child, my dear child," said the old lady. "But calm yourself, Agnes; here is Martin Grille, come to say the litter is ready. Let us go."

"Ah, I thought how it would be," said Martin Grille to himself. "I never saw dear friendships between a man under forty and a girl under sixty end otherwise. My lord, the litter is ready, and all the men-at-arms you named. The rest, however, seem somewhat surly at being left behind; for I think they have had enough of being besieged. I am sure I have. I shall not get that big gun out of my head for the next month."

"Tell them there is a truce for three days," said Jean Charost; "and if, at the end of that time, war is not at an end, I will return and join them. We must not strip the castle of its defenders."

In a few minutes Jean Charost and his little cavalcade were beyond the walls of Bourges; but Madame De Brecy remarked that they did not take the way toward their own well-loved home, but, passing the River Langis, directed their course toward Pressavoix. "Where are you taking us, Jean?" she said to her son, who was riding beside the litter.

"To the castle of Felard, my dear mother," replied Jean Charost. "I promised the queen that I would bring you and Agnes thither for a day. I am in great favor at court now," he added, gayly, "for having had some share in bringing about this negotiation. The king, indeed, seems somewhat moody and irritable, but not with me; and he insists that I shall take part in the conferences to be held this night at Pressavoix. Nay, dearest mother; no objections on the score of dress and equipment; for, let me tell you, the court is in traveling guise as well as we are, and you will find more soiled and dusty apparel there than we bring into it."

Madame De Brecy was in some trepidation; for it was long, long since she had moved in courts, and the retired and quiet life which she had passed for years unfitted her for such scenes. She made no opposition, however; and, in somewhat less than half an hour, the little cavalcade began to fall in with the outposts of the king's army. There was no difficulty in passing them, however; for, from the moment the truce was proclaimed, the soldiers on both posts concluded that some agreement would be arrived at between the different factions, and began to mingle together with as much gayety and good-will as if they had never drawn the sword against each other. Groups were seen galloping about the fields in different directions, standing and talking together upon the road, riding rapidly about to and fro between Pressavoix and Bourges, and the scene presented all the gayety and brilliancy of war, without any of its terrors.

Shortly after passing the second line of posts upon the high-road, Jean Charost led the way down a narrow lane, which seemed to plunge into a deep, heavy wood. All was now quiet and solitary, and nothing but the waving branches of great old trees was seen around for nearly half a mile. The undulations of the ground were so slight that no eminence gave a view over the prospect, and all that varied their course as they advanced were the strongly-contrasted lines of light and shade that crossed the road from time to time. At length, however, the lane turned sharply, an open space was presented to view, and the ancient château of Felard, which has long since given place to the present modern structure, rose upon the sight in the midst. It had towers and turrets, walls, ditch, and draw-bridge, like most large country houses at that time; but it was by no means defensible against any regular force, and was only chosen for the residence of the court on account of the accommodation it afforded. Charles VII. had not yet learned to dread the approach of his subjects to his person, to see poison in his food, and an enemy in every stranger, and the gates were wide open, without guards, and nothing but a few pages in attendance, lingering about.

Descending in the outer court, Jean Charost assisted his mother and Agnes to alight, and then led them on to the principal entrance of the building, where they were shown into a vacant chamber, to wait the pleasure of the queen.