Agnes turned deadly pale, and pointed to a crystal cup filled with water, which stood near. The minister gave it to her; and, having drunk a few drops, she covered her eyes with her hand for a moment--then raised them, and replied with less apparent emotion than might have been expected: "You do not clothe the truth, sir, in that soft guise which makes it less terrible of aspect to a weak woman's eyes, though not less certain; but you have been a soldier, sir, and also a recluse, mingling not with such feeble things as we are; and, therefore, I must forgive you the hard verities you speak. What is it you wish me to do?--for I gather from your manner that there is some task you would fain impose upon me."
Pained by the effect his words had had upon the queen, and feeling uncertain of how far he might venture, without driving her to actual despair, embarrassed also by his small habits of intercourse with women, Guerin turned once more to the hermit.
"The task, my child," said the old man, in compliance with the minister's look, "is indeed a painful one--bitterly painful; but, if it approaches to the agony of martyrdom, it is by its self-devotion equally sublime and glorious. Think, daughter, what a name would that woman gain in history, who, to save her husband's realm from civil war and interdict, and himself from excommunication and anathema, should voluntarily take upon herself the hard duty of opposing not only his inclinations but also her own; should tear herself from all that was dear to her, and thereby restore him to his glory and himself,--his realm to peace,--and tranquillity to the bosom of the church! Think what a name she would gain in history, and what such a sacrifice might merit from Heaven!"
"Stay! stay! father," said Agnes, raising her hand. "Stay,--let me think;" and casting down her beautiful eyes, she remained for a few moments in profound thought. After a short pause, Guerin, lest the impression should subside, attempted to fortify the hermit's arguments with his own; but the queen waved her hand for silence, thought again, and then raising her eyes, she replied:--
"I understand you, father; and, from my heart, I believe you seek the good of my husband the king. But this thing must not be--it cannot be!"
"It is painful, lady," said Guerin; "but to a mind like yours,--to a heart that loves your husband better than yourself----"
"Hold, my good brother!" said Agnes, "I, a weak, unwise woman, am ill fitted to contend with two wise and learned men like you; and therefore I will at once tell you why I reject a task that no consideration of my own feelings would have caused me to refuse;--no, not had it slain me!" she added, raising her eyes to heaven, as if appealing there for testimony of the truth of her assertion. "In the first place, I am the wife of Philip king of France; and my lips shall never do my fame the dishonour to admit that for an instant I have been aught else, since his hand clasped mine before the altar of St. Denis, in presence of all the prelates and bishops of his realm. I should dishonour myself--I should dishonour my child, did I think otherwise. As his wife, I am bound never to quit him with my good-will; and to submit myself in all things to his judgment and his wisdom. His wisdom then must be the judge; I will in no one thing oppose it. If but in the slightest degree I see he begins to think the sacrifice of our domestic happiness necessary to the public weal, I will yield without resistance, and bear my sorrows alone to the grave that will soon overtake me; but never till that grave has closed upon me will I admit that there is another queen of France; never will I acknowledge that I am not the lawful wife of Philip Augustus; nor ever will I oppose myself to my husband's will, or arrogate to myself the right of judging where he himself has decided. No! Philip has formed his own determination from his own strong mind; and far be it from me, his wife, by a word to shake his resolution, or by a thought to impeach his judgment!"
The queen spoke calmly, but decidedly; and though no tone in her voice betrayed any degree of vehemence, yet the bright light of her eye, and the alternate flushing and paleness of her cheek, seemed to evince a far more powerful struggle of feeling within, than she suffered to appear in her language.
"But hear me, lady,--hear me once more, for all our sakes!" exclaimed Guerin.
"Sir, I can listen no longer!" said Agnes, rising from her seat, with a degree of energy and dignity, that her slight form and gentle disposition seemed incapable of displaying. "My resolution is taken--my course is fixed--my path is made; and nothing on earth shall turn me therefrom. The icy mountains of my native land," she continued, pointing with her hand in the direction, as she fancied, of the Tyrol, "whose heads have stood for immemorial ages, beaten in vain by storm and tempest, are not more immoveable than I am. But I am not well," she added, turning somewhat pale--"I pray you, good sirs, leave me!"