"Is't possible that Jeanne should still be held captive in the Louvre ?"

"Oh Robert, Robert, torture me not-pity me!"

"How, my Lord! mine innocency having been made most clear and manifest, can it be thus 'twas your Grace's pleasure for one houray, for but one instant to delay-Hah!" he exclaimed, checking himself in what he was about to say: for he fixed his eyes upon the King at that moment, and thought he read in them a fearful truth.-He remained silent for some moments, as if to collect his thoughts, and gather resolution to proceed. At last, and as his cheek assumed a hue of even more ghastly paleness than its wont, he continued with a forced calmness-" your sister-your Grace's sister-Jeanne-she is well!"

The King slowly raised his eyes, and was about to reply.

"Speak it not, my Lord-speak it not!" exclaimed d'Artois, in almost a screech of agony. "I will not hear it-'twould kill me but to hear it

uttered. I know it-I know it all.-'Tis written -written-written in that look, where I can read mine own despair! * * Oh!

Philip, Philip! where shall I find words-words big enough to curse thee, in all the deep-the full-the heavy bitterness of my soul; or tongue to speak that curse?"—

He stooped his head, and was silent.-He buried his cheeks in his two hands; the gauntlets covering them, pressed upon his cheek,— which felt not their coldness-" the chill was at his heart!"

When the pang had passed-or, at least, when the sufferer had assumed that empire over himself which better enabled him to endure it, he again accosted the King.

"And my boy, Philip," he asked-" how fareth he?"

"Blessed be God, he is well."

"And free?"

"To-morrow's sun will not go down on his captivity, Robert !-when I received that letter: straight, though my grief at its contents was much, and made me heavy, I did send a man

date to the Castellan of the Louvre, ordering him to give freedom to my nephew, and lodge him in the Palace, where he shall tarry with the Queen. For my poor sister! God—"

Hush, hush!-Oh in mercy hush!" exclaimed d'Artois, averting his cheek and pushing his hands to and fro towards the King, as if he thus sought to stay the words proceeding from his lips, or thrust them back again." Speak it not-name not her, thy cruelty hath

No, I dare not-dare not utter it!"

A silence, anxious, long and painful, succeeded; during this, Robert had had time to effect that mastery over his feelings, which is never to be acquired but by spirits of the highest order: and though he would not bring himself to pardonought he to have done so!--yet, he resolved not to punish. Again accosting the king, he said

"With spirits such as ours, my Lord, a free acknowledgment of error, is atonement for that error; and giveth to the wronged, a full revenge upon the injurer. Such revenge as this, it suited well your

grant, and more than this,

----

mine own to seek. Your Grace most nobly hath avowed the injury I have suffered and his repentance albeit alas! now unavailing, I accept, in expiation of the evil done to me.— But my Lord!-though grief may purchase pardon for all crimes, yet be there some offences which we must needs drink of Lethe to forget." "Heaven is my witness, d'Artois-dear Robert," said the King, interupting him, —“ Heaven is my witness, that until treason rose and dazed mine eyes, I never thought of thee but as a brother most affectioned.-Heaven, too, 's my witness, how I would gladly now buy out my shame by lavishing on thee a tenfold measure of my love.-Oh! 'twas not I-not I who wronged thee-others did wrong thee by first wronging me."

*

Ay, my good lord," replied d'Artois, with a languid and melancholy smile, "'tis even so! for giving ear unto the wily words of-pardon the expression, Sire, grief draws it from meof an insidious woman, urged on, as it doth seem, by anger, and the much goading of a bitter foe; your Grace did banish from his realms a servitor

who long had served him faithfully-a brother who affectioned, a friend who honoured him, and who for this sought payment but in love.— Him, Sire,-first having tainted his fair name with infamy,-you did send forth a lone, unmated, wanderer on the world, and force to wrench reluctant justice from you by offering service to your enemy, a prince from whom he may not now withdraw it.

"This meeting did I seek, that I-Robert, Count of Artois-singly and unaided, might here meet in conflict with my Sovereign, Philip of Valois, who did put wrong upon me: this wrong hath he-much as in him is, to do itand more I ask not-righted by repentance. Let him therefore quit this vale unscathed as when he entered it.-When we next meet, I shall appear as Robert, Earl of Richmond, leading King Edward's troops against the foes of England. * Adieu my Lord, I bid your

Grace farewell!

The position in which the King found himself placed was a trying one. He had been tricked