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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; vour 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
by a worthless woman, into alienating from his service an approved and efficient servant, who, though he forgave the offender, could not pardon the offence; and who, indeed, having given allegiance to another prince, had it not in his power to withdraw it.
This was of itself sufficiently mortifying: but the tone of voice, haughty—and yet less haughty than mournfully upbraiding and plaintive,-in which he told of his wrongs, raised by turns within his bosom the various emotions of anger, shame, and sorrow: till, at last, the better part of his nature assuming the mastery, it mingled them all into the one single feeling of gentle pity; and he reflected, that to listen, without anger, to the outpouring of a grief, which he had himself caused, was but a slight punishment for so much guilt.
But when d'Artois came to say, that though he (the King) was free, and might leave the valley, yet that he himself should still remain attached to Edward's service; and when he heard “adieu," pronounced so gravely, so
mournfully, and yet with such firmness, as to preclude all hope of shaking his design ; a full sense of d'Artois' generosity — the memory of the ancient friendship which had subsisted between them—as well as thoughts upon the irreparable loss which his own weakness had occasioned, seemed all to burst at once upon his heart, to wither it; and clapping his hands passionately together, whilst speaking in a tone of voice choaked with grief, he called out to him, now already retreating towards his own troop, and attempted to delay his further progress.
“ Tarry, Robert! Oh, stay!-leave me not thus—thus, with that cold, glassy look of anger. Remember-yes, call to mind our ancient friend, ship,our days of boyhood - our plays-our pastimes ;-how thou didst once, when all besides stood far aloof, and would have let me perish—how thou didst save me from the waters of the Seine, and bear me from them. Let not all these be in vain-give not yourself to say “'twas idly done of me'-remember Casselthink!” * * * *
“ Did you remember these, my Lord, when such a thought had been salvation to me?" replied D'Artois sorrowfully, as checking his step, he turned round. “ Can I unnature me
—unhuman me? Can I, by volition, bring oblivion? Should I-my Lord, I may not do it; for I am now so tied to Edward's cause, that I must not look back,—but should I return to Paris, shall I there find rejoicing with me, her I left sorrowing for me?--Adieu, adieu, my Lord.—Farewell !--Yet one word more. The Queen, your Grace's royal consort, did ever much affection me and mine-me and my poor Jeanne (her namesake, your Grace's sister) and her child.—Tell her that in all true humbleness of heart, I throw myself before her feet, and thank her.- Tell her this, my good Lord,-and say, that though I now be Edward's soldier, I am no foe to her.-— And now I bid your Grace farewell, indeed!"
The Count of Artois then again turning away, finally retreated towards his own troops: which he immediately led off the field; whilst Philip,