SOREL (wringing her hands in despair).
Oh, if he goes, we are forsaken quite!
Follow, La Hire! Oh, seek to soften him!
[LA HIRE goes out.
SCENE VI.
CHARLES, SOREL, DUCHATEL.
CHARLES.
Is, then, the sceptre such a peerless treasure?
Is it so hard to loose it from our grasp?
Believe me, "tis more galling to endure The domineering rule of these proud va.s.sals.
To be dependent on their will and pleasure Is, to a n.o.ble heart, more bitter far Than to submit to fate.
[To DUCHATEL, who still lingers.
Duchatel, go, And do what I commanded.
DUCHATEL (throws himself at the KING"S feet).
Oh, my king!
CHARLES.
No more! Thou"st heard my absolute resolve!
DUCHATEL.
Sire, with the Duke of Burgundy make peace!
"Tis the sole outlet from destruction left!
CHARLES.
Thou giv"st this counsel, and thy blood alone Can ratify this peace.
DUCHATEL.
Here is my head.
I oft have risked it for thee in the fight, And with a joyful spirit I, for thee, Would lay it down upon the block of death.
Conciliate the duke! Deliver me To the full measure of his wrath, and let My flowing blood appease the ancient hate.
CHARLES (looks at him for some time in silence, and with deep emotion).
Can it be true? Am I, then, sunk so low, That even friends, who read my inmost heart, Point out for my escape the path of shame?
Yes, now I recognize my abject fall.
My honor is no more confided in.
DUCHATEL.
Reflect----
CHARLES.
Be silent, and incense me not!
Had I ten realms, on which to turn my back, With my friend"s life I would not purchase them.
Do what I have commanded. Hence, and see My equipage embarked.
DUCHATEL.
"Twill speedily Be done.
[He stands up and retires. AGNES SOREL weeps pa.s.sionately.
SCENE VII.
The royal palace at Chinon.
CHARLES, AGNES SOREL.
CHARLES (seizing the hand of AGNES).
My Agnes, be not sorrowful!
Beyond the Loire we still shall find a France; We are departing to a happier land, Where laughs a milder, an unclouded sky, And gales more genial blow; we there shall meet More gentle manners; song abideth there, And love and life in richer beauty bloom.
SOREL.
Oh, must I contemplate this day of woe!
The king must roam in banishment! the son Depart, an exile from his father"s house, And turn his back upon his childhood"s home!
Oh, pleasant, happy land that we forsake, Ne"er shall we tread thee joyously again.
SCENE VIII.
LA HIRE returns, CHARLES, SOREL.
SOREL.
You come alone? You do not bring him back?
[Observing him more closely.
La Hire! What news? What does that look announce?
Some new calamity?
LA HIRE.
Calamity Hath spent itself; sunshine is now returned.
SOREL.
What is it? I implore you.
LA HIRE (to the KING).
Summon back The delegates from Orleans.
CHARLES.
Why? What is it?
LA HIRE.
Summon them back! Thy fortune is reversed.
A battle has been fought, and thou hast conquered.