"Poor child!" said Margaret of York. "Poor child. But now, my Lord of Imbercourt, lose not a moment. No communication with this coming ambassador will answer our purpose. You must see Louis himself; and treat with himself, and put forth all your wisdom to meet all his cunning. Hasten to Peronne; fear not to bloody your spurs on the road, for not a minute that flies, till you are before the King of France, may not serve to recall this most necessary paper."
While this determination was adopted by the counsellors, Mary was followed from the room by Alice of Imbercourt; and the moment she had reached her chamber, that princess cast herself upon the bosom of her fair attendant, and wept most bitterly. "Fear not, madam," whispered Alice, "fear not! You shall yet wed him you love."
Mary had never acknowledged her lingering hopes even to Alice of Imbercourt, perhaps hardly to her own heart. But now the more vehement passion overcame the milder feeling, and timidity was forgotten in grief. "Never, Alice! never!" sobbed Mary; "I have just signed away my last and only chance!"
"Fear not!" again repeated the young lady. "Do you remember, madam, when you would not read the scheme of your future fate in the castle of Hannut?"
"Well, very well!" replied Mary, raising her head and drying her eyes; "what then, my Alice?"
"Do you remember, then, that I stayed behind," continued her companion, "when you quitted my uncle's observatory? Well; I remained long enough to give you consolation even now; for I saw there written, that the coronet of an archduchess was to bind the brow of my fair mistress."
Mary drew a deep and doubtful sigh; but there was a bright blush rose also in her cheek, which might seem an augury of hope; and it were false to say that she did not derive some comfort even from the predictions of a science, which, since the excitement of her visit to the castle of Hannut had worn away, she could hardly be said to believe.
At that period, however, each day of the life of Mary of Burgundy was a day of renewed care and anxiety; and the proceedings of the next morning opened with the tedious and painful ceremony of receiving the ambassador from the French monarch.
At the hour appointed it was announced that the Count de Meulan waited, and Mary took her seat in state, with the Bishop of Liege on one hand and the Duke of Cleves on the other, while Albert Maurice and various members of the council stood round. It had struck the young citizen, however, as soon as he entered the hall of audience, that neither Imbercourt nor Hugonet, the two chief supporters of what was called the French party, were present; and it appeared to him not a little extraordinary that they should be absent, if in the town, when such an opportunity for showing their respect to the King of France occurred, as the public reception of his envoy. During the time that elapsed between his own arrival and the introduction of the ambassador, he asked frequently, but in vain, for the absent counsellors, and on every movement near the door looked for their appearance, supposing that the business of the day could not or would not proceed without their presence. He was not a little surprised, however, when the order for admitting the Count de Meulan was at length given in their absence.
The doors were soon thrown open; and, dressed in the excess of splendour, but with a certain crouching and stealthy pace, habitual to the barber of the most cunning king in Europe, Olivier le Dain entered the hall, and approached the chair of the princess. After the ceremony of his introduction, which he went through, not without grace, but without dignity, the ambassador was commanded to deliver his letters, which he accordingly did. These were found to be in full and correct form, and he was then directed to state the purport of his embassy, and what he was charged to communicate to the Princess of Burgundy, from her cousin the King of France.