it her for the post of queen, and who had
already received, by courtesy, the titles and honors of her station,
though her youth still precluded the consummation of the marriage. How
to rob Maximilian of his bride and dispose of his daughter was a problem
that might well have seemed hopeless of solution. But Madame de Beaujeu
was not hopeless, nor was she over-scrupulous.

Before Maximilian could bring his Austrian-Hungarian war to a
satisfactory conclusion, the French armies had established almost
complete control of Brittany. The young duchess, none too pleased at the
neglect of this treaty-husband, was easily persuaded that the marriage,
contracted against the will of her feudal lord, and never consummated by
a husband who seemed more absorbed in politics than fired by passion,
was not really a religious compact, but a treaty that could be abrogated
like any other treaty. She consented to break off the match with her
King of the Romans, but, having once borne the title of queen, neither
count nor duke would she have for a husband, only a king. Anne de
Beaujeu promptly suggested that the heiress of Brittany should replace
the daughter of Maximilian, and marry Charles VIII. On November 15th
Charles entered Rennes. To Maximilian and the rest of Europe this seemed
but the honest fulfilment of the terms of the treaty of peace extorted
from unwilling Brittany; no one outside of the trusted friends of the
duchess and of the king had the least suspicion that, three days later,
the pair had had an interview, and that, in the presence of Louis
d'Orleans, of Anne and Pierre de Bourbon, of the chancellor of Brittany,
and of a few others, they were formally betrothed.

Secrecy was essential to the success of the plan. This secret was well
kept, particularly as the time of repression was short, for Anne de
Beaujeu was wise enough to conclude the matter as soon as possible.
Within a month, Charles went to the chateau of Langeais, in Touraine,
whither Anne de Bretagne followed him. Before the world knew what was
intended, they were married and were on their way to Plessis-lez-Tours,
where the gloomy old den of Louis XI was enlivened by brilliant royal
festivities. The ghost of the old king, however unfriendly to mirth and
jollity, must have looked on approvingly and grinned with joy at the
thought of the splendid and long-coveted dowry that his wise daughter
had won for France. He, too, would have taken a malicious pleasure in
the v