successfully with Jean de Bourgogne, and the struggle between the two
dukes merely exhausted the resources of Orleans without seriously
impairing those of his opponent. Isabeau, moreover, was not
bloodthirsty; both her indolence and her interest impelled her to favor
the peace between the two dukes which was brought about in the closing
months of 1407.

Louis was ill; in mere kindness his cousin of Burgundy visited him, and
a reconciliation was effected. As soon as Louis was recovered from his
indisposition the two, accompanied by the old Duke de Berri, who was
anxious to promote peace, heard mass and took communion together,
swearing fraternal love for each other. This was on Sunday, November 27,
1407. On the next Wednesday evening Louis d' Orleans went as usual to
sup with Isabeau at the Hotel Barbette, and was in particularly high
spirits, attempting to divert the queen, who had been much distressed at
the birth of a stillborn child, a love child, as people said. About
eight o'clock in the evening, a message, apparently from the king,
summoned Louis, and as he went in response to the summons, accompanied
by but a few pages and servants, he was set upon and hacked to pieces in
the streets of Paris by a gang of ruffians under one Raoul d'Octonville.

The assassins made good their escape before people knew what had
happened. When the death of the king's brother was discovered, great was
the consternation; for all knew that such a crime had not been committed
by an obscure scoundrel, and the question was asked, what great man had
hired the assassins? In a few days Jean de Bourgogne, in a mood between
terror and impudent bravado, confessed that he was guilty of the foul
murder of the man to whom he had so recently sworn amity in the sight of
God. Fearing that even his rank could not sufficiently shield him from
punishment for this shedding of the blood royal, Jean fled from Paris to
his own dominions.

The dead man had been neither a good brother nor a good prince; with all
of those facile graces which might have made him lovable to all men and
did make him fascinating to most women he had combined no sterling
qualities. He was not cruel; that is the only relatively good trait--and
even that but negative--that we can set over against his reckless
frivolity and licentiousness, his shameless infidelity and disregard of
oaths and the most sacred obligations. He was not mourned in Paris,
which was shocked but not grieved at