Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

The warder returned and bowed low, while the gates were thrown open. The soldiers within the court did military honours to the President of Ghent; and, assuming a firmer step and a prouder air, Albert Maurice passed on within the precincts of the palace, followed by the train who had met him according to his appointment. At the entrance-hall his followers paused; and he himself, ushered forward by one of the domestic attendants of the princess, ascended the steps towards a smaller chamber, adjoining the great hall of audience.

In the ante-room he cast off his hat and cloak, and remained in the rich dress in which he had descended to the banquet in the town-house; and as he passed on towards the door which the servant threw open, his eye fell upon a Venetian mirror, and perhaps he gained another ray of hope, from feeling that, in appearance as well as mind, he was not unfitted to move through those lordly halls, in the high station for which his ambition strove.

The chamber that he entered was but dimly lighted; and it was evident that the preparations for receiving him there had only been made upon the sudden announcement of his arrival. His eye, however, instantly rested upon Mary of Burgundy, as she sat surrounded by a number of her women; and the sweet smile with which she welcomed him so thrilled through his heart, that he felt the resolution which had brought him thither shaken, lest, by seeking for deeper happiness, he should lose even the joy of that sweet smile itself.

"Welcome, my lord," she said, "most welcome back again to Ghent. For though we had great joy from your victories and successes, the first that have ever yet blessed our cause, yet we have much needed your presence in the city."

"I hope, lady," replied the young citizen, with a tone of deep interest in all that concerned her immediate happiness, "I hope that you have suffered no personal annoyance; for, believe me, before I went, I took every means to guard you from the importunity of the Duke of Gueldres, or the intrusion of any one else."

"From the Duke of Gueldres," replied Mary, "who, I hear, unhappy man, has fallen in some of the late conflicts, I have, indeed, suffered nothing; nor have I truly to complain of any one else. Though my good cousin of Cleves does, perhaps, press me somewhat unkindly to a union, which is little less fearful in my eyes than the other. Doubtless, he deems it for my good, and strong are the reasons he urges; but having taken on myself to decide, and having told him that decision, I would fain be spared all further discussion."

The cheek of Albert Maurice reddened with anger; and he answered hastily, "Fear not, dear lady; his importunities shall not press upon your Grace much longer. The city of Ghent and the states of Flanders have this night armed me, thank God! with sufficient power to sweep--to--to----"

Albert Maurice paused and hesitated; for the bold and ambitious words that had been just springing to his lips, he felt must not be rashly uttered in the ear of one whose love was to be gained and fixed, and whose hand, although it was the crowning object of all his ambition, though it was the motive for every energy and endeavour of his bosom, would at once become vain and valueless, if unaccompanied by her heart. He paused, and then continued, "have armed me with sufficient power, at once to guide the state, I trust, to permanent security and peace; and to sweep away from your domestic life every pain, anxiety, and fear."

The last words were spoken low and slowly; and as he pronounced them, he dropped his eyes to the ground; while the warm conscious blood rose up into his cheeks, and spoke far more than his lips. The words he uttered, it is true, had no very definite meaning, and might be taken up in a very general sense; but the tone, the manner, the hesitation, the flushing of the cheek, the timid glance of the eye, gave emphasis and purpose to the whole. For the first time, a suspicion of what was passing in his bosom flashed across the mind of Mary of Burgundy, and inspired her, for the moment, with a feeling of terror which approached very nearly to despair. She turned deadly pale, and trembled violently, as, with rapid thought, she ran over the circumstances of her situation, and found how helpless she was, if that suspicion were well founded. It was but for an instant, however, that she gave way to apprehension. From the first, she had appreciated the general character of Albert Maurice, especially its finer points, by a sort of instinctive comparison with her own. She knew that he was generous, high-spirited, noble-minded; and, though she might now find that her estimate of his ambition had been far below that which it should have been, yet she trusted to the better parts of his disposition to deliver her from the consequences of the worse. She knew that she was in his power. She felt that his will was law, in all the country that surrounded her; and that, if he chose, he could blast her hopes and happiness for ever. But, at the same time, she felt there was some resource, though the only one, in the native generosity of his heart; and she determined to appeal to it boldly as her sole refuge from despair. It is true that a union with Albert Maurice, whose splendid qualities she could not but acknowledge, might, were such feelings susceptible of any very marked shades of difference, and had it been possible for her to dream for one moment of such a union, might have been less repugnant to her, than the marriages which had been proposed with the drivelling boy of France, with the coarse and brutal son of the Duke of Cleves, or with the cruel and unnatural Duke of Gueldres. But still, the simple fact existed, she loved another with all the deep sincerity of a woman's first affection, and the very thought of any other alliance was abhorrent to every feeling of her heart.

Nothing could have balanced those feelings in her bosom, but her strong sense of duty to the nation she was called upon to govern and protect. She could, indeed, and would, have sacrificed everything for her country and her people; but that people themselves had rejected the only alliance that could have benefited them; and, in the present instance, no such object could have been gained by her marriage with the President of Ghent, as that which the French alliance might have accomplished, even could she have entertained the thought of bestowing the hand of the heiress of Burgundy on an adventurous and aspiring citizen, a thought from which all Mary's feelings revolted, not the less strongly for the natural gentleness of her character. Had time for reflection been added, the discovery or the suspicion of his love might have afforded a key to all the conduct of the young citizen, and, by showing to what deeds his passion had already betrayed him, might have increased a thousand-fold the terror of the unhappy princess; but, luckily, the consideration of her own situation, and of the means of averting the consequences she dreaded, engrossed her wholly, and thus guarded her from worse apprehensions.