e any show of
rising, in mere contempt of me and of you, too, as you ought to have had
sense enough to see." After scenes of this kind in the bosom of his
family it is not surprising that the unfortunate Comte de la Marche
sought the more peaceful atmosphere of the camp, and engaged in a revolt
against his sovereign. Louis, however, had little difficulty in bringing
him to reason and obtaining another victory over England, whom the
rebels had enlisted on their side. "And it was no marvel," says
Joinville, writing of this campaign of Saint Louis's, "for he acted
according to the advice of the good mother who was with him."

One of the severest trials in the life of this _bonne mere_ was
approaching. Louis, always of a delicate constitution, had contracted a
fever during the campaign against the Comte de la Marche, and the
effects lingered with him until, at the close of 1244, he had a violent
recurrence of the attack, accompanied by dysentery. In spite of the
tender care of Blanche, his life was despaired of. He lost consciousness
and, says Joinville, to whom we shall leave the telling of the story,
"was in such extremity that one of the ladies watching by him wished to
draw the sheet over his face, and said that he was dead. And another
lady, who was on the other side of the bed, would not suffer it, but
said that there was still life in him. And as He heard the discussion
between these two ladies, Our Lord had compassion on him, and gave him
back his health. And as soon as he could speak he demanded that they
give him the Cross; and so it was done. Then the queen, his mother,
heard that the power of speech had returned to him, and she showed
therefore as great joy as she could. And when she knew that he had taken
the Cross, as he himself told her, she showed as great grief as if she
had seen him dead."

Blanche's grief was not without cause, for nothing short of the death of
this well-beloved son could have caused her the pain that she must
endure if he went on the crusade. Not only her age, but the knowledge
that he would wish her to stay behind and guard the kingdom for him,
precluded all thought of her accompanying him. It meant separation from
him on whom she had all her life lavished an affection little short of
idolatry. How bitterly must she have regretted encouraging that fervent
piety that now led to a sacrifice, in the name of his religion, of all
that the king, the son, the husband ought to hold most dear.