e to be lost. There
had been a stipulation, it is true, in the contract of marriage between
Anne de Bretagne and Charles, that, in case of the death of the king,
his widow could marry none but the successor or the heir presumptive to
the crown of France; but this stipulation now seemed about to prove
unavailing. For the heir presumptive at the time of Anne's widowhood was
the little Count Francois d'Angouleme, a boy not yet out of the nursery,
while the successor of Charles VIII. was already married to Jeanne,
sister of the late king. It was a dilemma as serious as that solved by
Anne de Beaujeu seven years before. But, as has been shown in this case,
"be there a will, and wisdom finds a way," or if not wisdom, the
hocus-pocus of diplomacy. In the present case it was soon apparent that,
on both sides, there was a will; and though the way lay directly over
the bleeding heart of a good woman, that way was found and followed by
Louis XII.

Before the death of Charles, no one had suspected that Louis cherished
any sentiments but those of loyal respect for Anne de Bretagne. When he
saw her go away, taking with her the dowry that had cost so dear, the
court discovered that the new king was hopelessly enamored of the
mourning Breton widow. Anne was, it is true, personally attractive, and
Louis was known to be not only susceptible to feminine charms but
deplorably unhappy with his own wife; nevertheless, one cannot accord
unquestioning faith to the genuineness of an affection that was so
obviously politic, whether genuine or counterfeit. Anne, too, despite
her widow's weeds and her tears, could not help showing that she left
the court with regret. In justice to her, it cannot be said that she had
betrayed her willingness to return Louis's sentiments; yet he must have
felt reasonably sure of his standing in her heart before he undertook to
make room for her by his side.

Almost the first scene of our history has to do with just such an
instance of shameless quibbling about sacred things as that we must now
record. Louis's wife, Jeanne de France, was a good, gentle, loving
woman, who had clung with despairing affection to a husband who despised
her, who was unfaithful to her, who was now to humiliate her. The poor
creature was unfortunately ugly, and deformed, and twenty-two years of
unfailing devotion it was in great part owing to her incessant appeals
that the young Charles VIII. had liberated Louis from Bourges--had not
reco