ter at which
I cannot be too much astounded. It is with great sorrow that I name it
to you, when I remember the fair expressions I have all through this year
had from you, both in writing and by word of mouth. It is certain that
parley has been held between your people and those of the King of
England, that you have thought proper to assign to them the district of
Caux and the city of Rouen; that you have promised to obtain from them
Abbeville and the count-ship of Ponthieu, and that you have concluded
with them certain alliances against me and my country, whilst making them
large offers to my prejudice. Of what is yours, sir, you may dispose
according to your pleasure; but it seems to me that you might do better
than wish to take from my hands what is mine, in order to give it to the
English or to any other foreign nation. I pray you, therefore, sir, if
such overtures have been made by your people, to be pleased not to
consent thereto in any way, but to put a stop to the whole, to the end
that I may remain your most humble servant, as I desire to be."

Louis returned no answer to this letter. He contented him-self with
sending to the commission of thirty-six notables, then in session at
Etampes for the purpose of considering the reform of the kingdom, a
request to represent to the Count of Charolais the impropriety of such
language, and to appeal for the punishment of the persons who had
suggested it to him. The count made some awkward excuses, at the same
time that he persisted in complaining of the king's obstinate pretensions
and underhand ways. A serious incident now happened, which for a while
distracted the attention of the two rivals from their mutual
recriminations. Duke Philip the Good, who had for some time past been
visibly declining in body and mind, was visited at Bruges by a stroke of
apoplexy, soon discovered to be fatal. His son, the Count of Charolais,
was at Ghent. At the first whisper of danger he mounted his horse, and
without a moment's halt arrived at Bruges on the 15th of June, 1467, and
ran to his father's room, who had already lost speech and consciousness.
"Father, father," cried the count, on his knees and sobbing, "give me
your blessing; and if I have offended you, forgive me." "My lord," added
the Bishop of Bethlehem, the dying man's confessor, "if you only hear us,
bear witness by some sign." The duke turned his eyes a little towards
his son, and seemed to feebly press his hand.