ion than merely to establish a fair and
equitable treaty between the countries, with such security on the King's
part as should make it difficult for him to break his faith, or disturb
the internal peace of Burgundy in the future. D'Hymbercourt, Crevecoeur,
and others signified their reprobation of the violent measures proposed
by Campobasso, and their opinion, that in the way of treaty more
permanent advantages could be obtained, and in a manner more honourable
for Burgundy, than by an action which would stain her with a breach of
faith and hospitality.
The Duke listened to these arguments with his looks fixed on the ground,
and his brow so knitted together as to bring his bushy eyebrows into one
mass. But when Crevecoeur proceeded to say that he did not believe
Louis either knew of, or was accessory to, the atrocious act of violence
committed at Schonwaldt, Charles raised his head, and darting a fierce
look at his counsellor, exclaimed, "Have you too, Crevecoeur, heard the
gold of France clink?--Methinks it rings in my council as merrily as
ever the bells of Saint Denis.--Dare any one say that Louis is not the
fomenter of these feuds in Flanders?"
"My gracious lord," said Crevecoeur, "my hand has ever been more
conversant with steel than with gold, and so far am I from holding
that Louis is free from the charge of having caused the disturbances in
Flanders, that it is not long since, in the face of his whole Court, I
charged him with that breach of faith, and offered him defiance in your
name. But although his intrigues have been doubtless the original cause
of these commotions, I am so far from believing that he authorized the
death of the Archbishop, that I believe one of his emissaries publicly
protested against it; and I could produce the man, were it your Grace's
pleasure to see him."
"It is our pleasure," said the Duke. "Saint George, can you doubt that
we desire to act justly? Even in the highest flight of our passion,
we are known for an upright and a just judge. We will see France
ourself--we will ourself charge him with our wrongs, and ourself state
to him the reparation which we expect and demand. If he shall be found
guiltless of this murder, the atonement for other crimes may be more
easy.--If he hath been guilty, who shall say that a life of penitence
in some retired monastery were not a most deserved and a most merciful
doom?--Who," he added, kindling as he spoke, "who shall dare to blame a
reveng
|