Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

"Mark my words," continued Ganay; "mark my words, and see whether, by the grey dawn of to-morrow, you are not sent for to the palace. But remember, Albert Maurice, that though patriotism may lead a man to the summit of ambition; and though love, as well as glory and authority, may become the fitting reward for services rendered to his country, yet, in the path thither, he must never sacrifice his duty for any of those temptations, or he will surely lose all and gain nothing."

A slight smile passed over the features of Albert Maurice--whose passions, in this instance, did not interfere to blind his native acuteness--when he saw what use his artful companion could make of the words duty and patriotism, while it served his purpose, though, at other times, he might virtually deny the existence of such entities. "How mean you?" he said. "Your position, good friend, is general, but you have some more particular object in it."

"I mean," replied Ganay, "that should Mary of Burgundy use all those sweet words, which love itself teaches woman to employ in moving the heart of man, in order to shake your duty to your country, and make you work out the safety of two convicted traitors, you, Albert Maurice, must have firmness enough to say, no, even to her you love, remembering, that if you let them escape, even into banishment--you may look upon the marriage of Mary of Burgundy with the Dauphin of France as an event not less sure than that you yourself exist. Look, too, a little farther, and think of the consequences. Even supposing you could brook your personal disappointment, and calmly see her you love in the arms of the weak boy of France, what would befall your country? Already one half of the nobles of Burgundy and Flanders have gone over to the French! Already half our towns are in possession of Louis, that most Christian knave; and at the very first breathing of the news, that a treaty of marriage was signed between the heirs of France and Burgundy, the whole land would rush forward to pass beneath the yoke, while the blood of those who sought to save their country, would be poured out in the streets of Ghent, to expiate the crime of patriotism."

"Fear not," replied Albert Maurice; "proved as it is, beyond all doubt, that these two men have dared to negotiate the sale of their native land to him who has been its great enemy, there is no power on earth that could induce me to interpose and save them from the outstretched arm of justice. They shall be fairly heard, and fairly tried; and if it be shown, which it cannot be, that they are guiltless, why let them go, in God's name, as free as the blast of the ocean: but, if they be condemned, they die, Ganay."

"So be it," said the druggist; "in this instance, at least, justice to your country is your only chance of personal success; and now, good night, and every fair dream attend you."

Thus ended their long conference; and Ganay, descending from the hall, woke his two sleepy attendants, who were nodding over an expiring fire in the vestibule below. Each instantly snatched up his sword and target, to conduct his master home, for the streets of Ghent were not quite so safe, since the death of Charles the Bold, as they had been under his stricter reign. A boy with a lantern preceded the druggist on his way homeward; and as he walked on across the Lys towards the church of St. Michael, the subtle plotter bent his eyes upon the ground, and seemed counting the stones, as the chequering light of the lantern passed over them. But his thoughts were not so void of matter; and he muttered words which showed how deeply some parts of his late conversation--those which had seemed to affect him but little at the time--had in reality sunk into his heart. "He is quieted for the present," he said, "and he must do out his work, but he must die--I fear me he must die; and yet my heart fails me to think it. Why and how did he learn so much? and why was he mad enough to breathe it when he had learned it? But I must think more ere I determine. Those papers! he added--those papers--if I could but get at those papers! Whatever hearsay knowledge he may have gained, he could make out nothing without those papers."

While thus--muttering to himself broken sentences of the dark purposes which dwelt within his own bosom--the druggist pursued his way homeward, Albert Maurice retired to his bed-chamber in the town-house, and summoned his attendants to aid in undressing him. No man really more despised the pomp and circumstance of state; but since he had taken upon himself the government of Flanders, for the power he had assumed was little less, he had in some degree affected a style of regal splendour, and attendants of all kinds waited his commands. The necessity of captivating the vulgar mind by show, and of impressing on the multitude respect for the office that he held, was the excuse of the young citizen to himself and others; but there was something more in it all than that--a sort of flattering stimulus to hope and expectation was to be drawn from the magnificence with which he surrounded himself; and he seemed to feel, that the thought of winning Mary of Burgundy was something more than a dream, when he found himself in some sort acting the monarch in her dominions. He felt, too--and there might be a charm in that also--that he acted the monarch well; and that the robes he had assumed became him, while the native dignity of his whole demeanour, and the unaffected ease with which he moved amidst the splendour he displayed, dazzled the eyes of those who surrounded him, so that he met nothing but deference and respect from all.

He slept that night as calmly in the couch of state as if he had been born amongst the halls of kings; and he was still in the arms of slumber, when a page woke him, announcing as Ganay had predicted, that the princess required his presence at the palace with all speed. He instantly rose, and dressing himself in such guise as might become him well without incurring a charge of ostentatious presumption, he proceeded to obey the summons he had received; and was led at once to the presence of Mary of Burgundy.

The princess, as usual, was not absolutely alone; for one of her female attendants--the same who had accompanied her during the thunderstorm in the forest of Hannut--now remained at the farther extremity of the room, but at such a distance as to place her out of earshot. It was, indeed, as well that it should be so; for Mary was prepared to plead to her own subject for the life of her faithful servants--a humiliation to which the fewer were the witnesses admitted, the better. The feeling of the degradation to which she submitted, was not without a painful effect upon Mary's heart, however gentle and yielding that heart might be; and the struggle between anxiety to save the ancient friends of her father and herself, and the fear of descending from her state too far, wrote itself in varying characters upon her countenance, which weeks of painful thoughts and fears had accustomed too well to the expression of agitated apprehension.

It was still, however, as beautiful a picture of a bright and gentle soul as ever mortal eye rested on; and as Albert Maurice gazed upon it, half shrouded as it was by the long black mourning veil which the princess wore in memory of her father's death, he could not but feel that there was a power in loveliness like that, to shake the sternest resolves of his heart, and turn him all to weakness. The agitation of his own feelings, too; the hopes that would mount, the wishes that could not be repressed, rendered him anxiously alive to every varying expression of Mary's face; and without the vanity of believing that all he saw spoke encouragement to himself, he could not but dream that the colour came and went more rapidly in her cheek, that her eye more often sought the ground while speaking to him, than in the most earnest consultation with her other counsellors. Perhaps, indeed, it was so; but from far other causes than his hopes would have led him to believe. Seldom called to converse with him but in moments of great emergency, Mary was generally more moved at such times than on other occasions, and when agitated, the eloquent blood would ever come and go in her cheek, with every varying emotion of heart.