That no kind heart may be troubled about Edmund Langley, I will add that that unsuccessful swain went and manfully offered himself to a pretty Spanish girl, natural daughter of Peter-the-cruel; and a descendant of that loving pair sits at this moment on the throne of England. Philip and Margaret had got as far as Bruges on their wedding tour when they were out of money, and it seems their credit was so poor that they could borrow none without security; so they had to pawn all their jewels to defray their way back to Paris.[6] The bride and groom after a short stay at Paris, refitted the castle of Rouvre the birthplace and residence of Margaret’s first husband, the last of the Robertines. Behold then dame Margaret once more mistress of Rouvre, wedded to a second Philip, and a second time duchess of Burgundy. She could now solve the problem; and in pursuance of that worthy end, two years after her marriage, she brought forth a son. It was a wondrous infant: nothing short of the pope himself would do for its godfather; so that Gregory XI. successor of Urban, stood by proxy at the font, and called the boy’s name John; and as he grew up in the fear of neither God nor man, he become known as John-the-fearless. John-the-good’s badness was ended; and his son Charles V. called the Wise, reigned. He was as unlike his foolish and fighting sire as possible. He was probably brave like the rest of his race, though he disclaimed any such virtue, and ran away at Poictiers; but he was passed master in the school of diplomacy. The Plantagenets had inherited, as we have said, nearly one-third of France; and they coveted the rest. This covetousness was backed up by the English people who were ignorant enough not to see that they were fighting to degrade the crown of England to a mere apanage of the crown of France. So long as the reign of the incapable John lasted, Edward III. had had his own way; but the prudence and adroitness of Charles, worked a change. Seconded by his brother Philip and by his constable Du Guesclin, he took without a battle, town after town, castle after castle, till Edward declared that the most formidable of his enemies was the one who did not fight. This new style of warfare was illustrated by the capture of La Rochelle. The castle was held by an English garrison, and to hold the castle was to hold the town. One day the chief magistrate asked the English commander to dinner. While at table, a forged despatch was brought to the Englishman. It was an order to march his garrison into the public square for a review. He had taken wine enough to be confident of his luck, so he obeyed the order. The townsmen who were watching for their chance, seized the castle and the garrison shut out of their stronghold and outnumbered, surrendered.