“At least I would have your Majesty be in a condition to discuss them all.”
“Yet moderation, De Comines, moderation in success, is—no one knows better than you—necessary to its ultimate advantage.”
“So please your Majesty, the merit of moderation is, I have observed, most apt to be extolled by the losing party. The winner holds in more esteem the prudence which calls on him not to leave an opportunity unimproved.”
“Well, we will consider,” replied the King; “but at least thou hast reached the extremity of your Duke's unreasonable exaction? there can remain nothing—or if there does, for so thy brow intimates—what is it—what indeed can it be—unless it be my crown? which these previous demands, if granted, will deprive of all its lustre?”
“My lord,” said De Comines, “what remains to be mentioned, is a thing partly—indeed in a great measure within the Duke's own power, though he means to invite your Majesty's accession to it, for in truth it touches you nearly.”
“Pasques Dieu!” exclaimed the King impatiently, “what is it?—Speak out, Sir Philip—am I to send him my daughter for a concubine, or what other dishonour is he to put on me?”
“No dishonour, my Liege; but your Majesty's cousin, the illustrious Duke of Orleans—”
“Ha!” exclaimed the King; but De Comines proceeded without heeding the interruption.
“—having conferred his affections on the young Countess Isabelle de Croye, the Duke expects your Majesty will, on your part, as he on his, yield your assent to the marriage, and unite with him in endowing the right noble couple with such an appanage, as, joined to the Countess's estates, may form a fit establishment for a Child of France.”
“Never, never!” said the King, bursting out into that emotion which he had of late suppressed with much difficulty, and striding about in a disordered haste, which formed the strongest contrast to the self command which he usually exhibited.