How happy were the lovers as they sat together whispering of what joy and happiness this good news brought to them both! Yes, the dream was near to realization now; the tempest was past, and the sunshine shone across the path of youth and love without the shadow of a cloud between. But when would the time come when they should ride together, as they had so often done in fancy, and see the grey walls of the Château d’Estrailles rise close to the laughing waters of the Loire? Ah! when? Perhaps even sooner than she thought—it was possible. Only, there was one word of whispered counsel for her ears ere he bade her farewell: should the Duchess claim her attendance for a sudden and unexpected journey, she must not hesitate to comply, strange as it might seem;—that was all that he might say. And so, with fresh vows of love, they parted, though Gwennola little guessed that neither lover nor cloaked attendant went so far that night as the city walls. A deputation of her councillors waited the following morning upon the young Duchess. It would seem that they were filled with anxiety; in fact, truly a new danger appeared to have arisen. That they were cognizant to the secret interview of the night before they made no attempt to hide, pleading that in their Duchess’s interests they had permitted it to take place. Finding her inexorable with regard to the French marriage, they apparently yielded to her wishes, yet urged her, by reason of the dangers of her position, to make at least a compromise. Charles was set upon a betrothal, by some means or other; and the councillors hinted that there would be small scruple in taking by force what was not yielded to request. He had sworn to make Anne his bride. The armies of France were at no great distance; Maximilian was far away. What they would suggest was that Anne should in fair seeming yield acquiescence to the importunities of the King and allow herself to be secretly betrothed. Then, his suspicions lulled to rest, Anne would, with the greater ease, escape from her town and fly with a small retinue, including the ambassadors of Maximilian, to her husband’s protection. Such craft and duplicity were little suited to Anne’s straightforward nature; but, beset as she was with enemies and difficulties, she yielded at length, and that very night, in the utmost secrecy, was celebrated in the church of Notre Dame, this strange and romantic betrothal of the King of France to the Duchess of Brittany, witnessed by the Duchess of Bourbon, the Count Dunois, Philippe de Montauban, and Louis of Orleans, who thus saw consummated the match he had both desired and dreaded. The betrothal over, Anne retired in haste to her castle, with scant ceremony, there to await the development of events promised her so glibly by her Chancellor and council.