He spoke boldly; and Albert Maurice felt that, for once at least, he spoke truly. He saw, indeed, that although they were in some sort partners in the game, as Ganay had depicted them, yet they were playing for different stakes, and might soon find that they had different interests.
"And when this game is won, Ganay," said he, calmly, after a brief pause, "this game in which you and I stand as partners, say, are we to turn round the board, and singly play one short game more, against each other? Ha! is it not so?"
"No; on my life!" replied Ganay, with a degree of fervour unusual with him. "No, on my life, young man. I have my passions, like my neighbours; but I am without ambition. Do you, too, believe me without a touch of feeling? You have shown me kindness in times past: you once saved the life of one that is now no more; three years ago you held my head when it throbbed with fever, when we were together on the shores of the Adriatic: and if you cross not my purpose, if you oppose not the stronger passion, which guides, and struggles with, and masters all, you shall find that my gratitude is only second to my revenge. Even more," he added, resuming his ordinary air of calm shrewdness: "I can even grateful for those things which I accomplish by your means, though without your will; and our common efforts for one great purpose bind us together more firmly than you think. So, now, farewell! but remember, I tell you Imbercourt is a traitor, and he must die!"
"If he be a traitor, die most certainly he shall," replied Albert Maurice; "but in regard to that man, I mistrust my own motives too much to rely on my own judgment. More, Ganay! still more! I mistrust your motives, too; and I will not rely on your judgment either. Nay, protest not! I see your bitter persevering hatred of that man as clearly as if your bosom were of glass, though I see not the occasion of it. But it matters not what be the occasion. I doubt myself, and I doubt you; and others, more impartial than either you or I, shall judge him, though, God knows, I know no cause of enmity you can have towards him. So now, farewell."
Ganay's lip curled with a very mingled expression, as Albert Maurice pronounced the last words, but he made no reply; and, leaving the young citizen, he proceeded to confer with the messenger who had lately arrived, and then held a long and secret conference with Maillotin du Bac.
The post that brought such unwelcome tidings from the frontier supped well at the Maison de Ville, and, resting his weary limbs upon his bed, soon found the sweet sleep of fatigue; nor did he ever stir from the precincts of the building. No one saw him without its gates; no one held conference with him within, except in the presence of Ganay himself. Nevertheless, before an hour had passed, the whole news he had brought were known to Imbercourt, and were by him carried straight to the princess. How it reached him it were hard to say, for no post came to the Cours du Prince from that quarter, but still he had learned it all. Not a word had escaped him, the whole evil tidings were known, and the consternation was excited which Albert Maurice had been so desirous of warding off, till the ambassador from France had been received and dismissed. The views of the young citizen in this desire were certainly partly patriotic and partly personal; but his immediate object was to send back the messenger of the deceitful Louis with such a reply as would render the project of a union between France and Burgundy hopeless. Every fresh success of the French king of course strengthened the arguments of those who advocated the marriage of Mary with the Dauphin; and this torrent of evil tidings was well calculated to overpower all opposition.
Such had been the light in which Albert Maurice had seen the effect likely to be produced by the progress of Louis; but in vain, however, did he take measures to conceal it. Each event, rather magnified than otherwise, reached the ears of Imbercourt, and by him were that very night detailed to Mary herself. Tidings had arrived in Ghent, not long before, that almost the whole of the duchy of Burgundy also had been overrun by French troops; and this, together with the unresisted advance of the King of France on the side of Flanders, the total loss of Picardy, Artois, and the Boulonnois, the desertion of her friends, the turbulence of her subjects, and the power of her enemies, overcame at length the unhappy girl's hopes and her firmness. After a long conference with Imbercourt and her chancellor, as well as with her cousin, the Lord of Ravestein, and her best of friends, Margaret, her father's widow, in an evil hour Mary consented to send the two former on a mission to the base monarch who was usurping her inheritance.
Under their dictation, with a trembling hand, she wrote part of a letter to Louis XI.; but where she came to give them power to treat of her alliance with France, her feelings overpowered her, and the tears gushing from her eyes, obscured her sight.
"Give me the pen, my sweet child," said Margaret of York. "My Lord of Ravestein and myself, your two nearest relatives and friends, will each write a part under your direction: so shall the document acquire additional weight, as showing the wishes of so many persons."
This was accordingly done, and Mary calmly heard a paper read, which she felt was binding her to misery for life. With a hurried hand she signed her name, but she could bear no more, and hastened from the chamber.