"In clearing thyself too, thou hast mingled a doubt with my hatred of this Thibalt d'Auvergne; but thou hast not taken the thorn from my bosom. She may be chaste as ice, Guerin. Nay, she is. Her every word, her every look speaks it--even her language to him was beyond doubt--but still, she loves me not, Guerin! She spoke of duty, but she never spoke of love! She, who has been my adoration--she, who loved me, I thought, as kings are seldom loved--she loves me not!"
Guerin was silent. He felt that he could not conscientiously say one word to strengthen the king's conclusion, that Agnes did not love him; but for the sake of the great object he had in view, of raising the interdict, and thereby freeing France from all the dangers that menaced her, he forebore to express his firm conviction of the queen's deep attachment to her husband.
Fortunately for his purpose, at this moment one or two of the king's serjeants-at-arms returned, informing Philip, with no small addition of surprise, that they could find no trace of the Count d'Auvergne.
"Let better search be made!" said the king; "and the moment he is found, let him be arrested in my name, and confined, under strict guard, in the chapel tower. Let his usage be good, but his prison sure. Your heads shall answer!" Thus saying, he turned, and left the hall, followed by Guerin, who dared not urge his remonstrances farther at the moment.
CHAPTER VIII.
It may be necessary here to go back a little, in order to show more fully what had really been that conversation between Thibalt d'Auvergne and the fair Agnes de Meranie, of which but a few words have yet reached the reader's ears.
The Count d'Auvergne had come to the castle of Compiègne, as we have shown, upon the direct invitation of the king himself; and, indeed, Philip had taken more than one occasion to court his powerful vassal; not alone, perhaps, from political motives, but because he felt within himself, without any defined cause, a kind of doubt and dislike towards him, which he believed to be unjust, and knew to be impolitic; and which, he was continually afraid, might become apparent, unless he stretched his courtesy to its utmost extent.
D'Auvergne made no return. The frozen rigidity of his manner was never relaxed for an instant; and whatever warmth the king assumed, it could never thaw him even to a smile. Nor was this wholly the offspring of that personal dislike which he might well be supposed to feel to a happy and successful rival; but he felt that, bound by his promise to the old duke of Istria, he had a task to perform, which Philip would consider that of an enemy, and therefore D'Auvergne resolved never to bear towards him, for a moment, the semblance of a friend.
Having, after his return to Paris, once more accepted Philip's invitation to Compiègne; which, being made upon the plea of consulting him respecting the conquest of Constantinople, was complied with, without obligation. D'Auvergne proceeded on the evening appointed to the castle; but, finding that Philip had not returned from the siege of Gournay, he lodged himself and his followers, as he best might, in the village. He felt, however, that he must seize the moment which presented itself, of conveying to Agnes her father's message; and convinced, by bitter experience, of the quick and mortal nature of opportunity, the morning after his arrival he proceeded to the castle, and demanded an audience of the queen.
No sensation on earth, perhaps, can be conceived more bitter than that of seeing the object of one's love in the possession of another; and Thibalt d'Auvergne's heart beat painfully--his very lip grew pale, as he passed into the castle hall, and bade one of the pages announce him to the queen. A few moments passed, after the boy's departure, in sad expectation; the memory of former days contrasting their bright fancies with the dark and gloomy hopelessness of the present. The page speedily returned, and informed the count that his lady, the queen, would see him with pleasure if he would follow to the garden. D'Auvergne summoned all his courage; for there is more real valour in meeting and conquering our own feelings, when armed against us, than in overthrowing the best paladin that ever mounted horse. He followed the boy towards the garden with a firm step, and, on entering, soon perceived the queen advancing to meet him.