Maitre Cornelius | Page 4

from the flood which obstructed the great
portals, and poured through the side aisle around the old lord and his
party. The mass was too compact to allow him to retrace his steps, and
he and his wife were therefore pushed onward to the door by the
pressure of the multitude behind them. The husband tried to pass out
first, dragging the lady by the arm, but at that instant he was pulled
vigorously into the street, and his wife was torn from him by a stranger.
The terrible hunchback saw at once that he had fallen into a trap that
was cleverly prepared. Repenting himself for having slept, he collected
his whole strength, seized his wife once more by the sleeve of her gown,
and strove with his other hand to cling to the gate of the church; but the
ardor of love carried the day against jealous fury. The young man took
his mistress round the waist, and carried her off so rapidly, with the
strength of despair, that the brocaded stuff of silk and gold tore noisily
apart, and the sleeve alone remained in the hand of the old man. A roar
like that of a lion rose louder than the shouts of the multitude, and a
terrible voice howled out the words:--
"To me, Poitiers! Servants of the Comte de Saint-Vallier, here! Help!
help!"
And the Comte Aymar de Poitiers, sire de Saint-Vallier, attempted to
draw his sword and clear a space around him. But he found himself
surrounded and pressed upon by forty or fifty gentlemen whom it
would be dangerous to wound. Several among them, especially those of
the highest rank, answered him with jests as they dragged him along
the cloisters.
With the rapidity of lightning the abductor carried the countess into an
open chapel and seated her behind the confessional on a wooden bench.
By the light of the tapers burning before the saint to whom the chapel
was dedicated, they looked at each other for a moment in silence,

clasping hands, and amazed at their own audacity. The countess had not
the cruel courage to reproach the young man for the boldness to which
they owed this perilous and only instant of happiness.
"Will you fly with me into the adjoining States?" said the young man,
eagerly. "Two English horses are awaiting us close by, able to do thirty
leagues at a stretch."
"Ah!" she cried, softly, "in what corner of the world could you hide a
daughter of King Louis XI.?"
"True," replied the young man, silenced by a difficulty he had not
foreseen.
"Why did you tear me from my husband?" she asked in a sort of terror.
"Alas!" said her lover, "I did not reckon on the trouble I should feel in
being near you, in hearing you speak to me. I have made plans,--two or
three plans,--and now that I see you all seems accomplished."
"But I am lost!" said the countess.
"We are saved!" the young man cried in the blind enthusiasm of his
love. "Listen to me carefully!"
"This will cost me my life!" she said, letting the tears that rolled in her
eyes flow down her cheeks. "The count will kill me,--to-night, perhaps!
But go to the king; tell him the tortures that his daughter has endured
these five years. He loved me well when I was little; he called me
'Marie-full-of-grace,' because I was ugly. Ah! if he knew the man to
whom he gave me, his anger would be terrible. I have not dared
complain, out of pity for the count. Besides, how could I reach the king?
My confessor himself is a spy of Saint-Vallier. That is why I have
consented to this guilty meeting, to obtain a defender,--some one to tell
the truth to the king. Can I rely on-- Oh!" she cried, turning pale and
interrupting herself, "here comes the page!"
The poor countess put her hands before her face as if to veil it.

"Fear nothing," said the young seigneur, "he is won! You can safely
trust him; he belongs to me. When the count contrives to return for you
he will warn us of his coming. In the confessional," he added, in a low
voice, "is a priest, a friend of mine, who will tell him that he drew you
for safety out of the crowd, and placed you under his own protection in
this chapel. Therefore, everything is arranged to deceive him."
At these words the tears of the poor woman stopped, but an expression
of sadness settled down on her face.
"No one can deceive him," she said. "To-night he will know all. Save
me from his blows! Go to Plessis, see the king, tell him--" she hesitated;
then, some dreadful recollection giving her courage to confess