he murmured, with contrite glance. "How
repugnant is human glory! to conquer the earth; to barter what is
immortal! _Carnis resurrectionem--_"

A shadow fell across the tapestry, and glancing from the blessed
symbol, he saw before him, kneeling on the rug, the figure of a woman.
For her it was an inauspicious interruption. With almost a frown,
Charles, recalled from an absorbing period of oblation and
self-examination, surveyed the young girl. The reflection of dark
colors from the hangings and tapestries softened the pallor of her
face; her hair hung about her in disorder; her figure, though meanly
garbed, was replete with youth and grace. Silent she continued in the
posture of a suppliant.

"Well?" said the monarch finally, in a harsh voice.

Slowly she lifted her head; her dark eyes rested on the ruler
steadfastly, fearlessly. "Your Majesty commanded my presence," she
answered.

"Who are you?" he asked coldly.

"I am called Jacqueline; my father was the Constable of Dubrois."

Incredulity replaced every other emotion on the emperor's features,
and, approaching her, he gazed attentively into the countenance she so
frankly uplifted. With calmness she bore that piercing scrutiny; his
dark, troubled soul, looking out of his keen gray eyes, met an equally
lofty spirit.

"The Constable of Dubrois! You, his daughter!" he repeated.

His thoughts swiftly pierced the shadows of the past; that umbrageous
past, darkened with war and carnage; the memory of triumphs; the
bitterness of defeats! And studying her eyes, her face, as in a vision
he recalled the features, the bearing, of him who had held himself an
equal to his old rival, Francis. A red spot rose to his cheek as he
reviewed the martial, combative days; the game of arms he had played so
often with Francis--and won! Not always by daring, or courage--rather
by sagacity, clear-headedness, more potent than any other force!

But a pang of bodily suffering reminded him of the present and its
ills, and the vainglory of brief exultation faded as quickly as it had
assailed him; involuntarily his glance sought the sacred emblem of
intercession. When he regarded her once more his face had resumed its
severe, uncompromising aspect.

"The constable was a proud, haughty man," he said, brusquely. "Yea,
over-proud, in fact. You know why he fled to me?"

"Yes, Sire," she answered, flushing resentfully.

"To persuade me to espouse his cause against the king.