“Sire,” she said, in accents well calculated to move the Emperor, “if your majesty has any compassion for your unfortunate prisoner you will see him without delay. You alone have power to cure his malady, which is caused by grief, and aggravated by mental irritation. That he cannot long survive if he continues in this state is quite certain, for his disease is beyond the reach of medicine. His physicians can do no more for him, and leave him to your majesty. If you abandon him, he will die, and then you will have a perpetual reproach upon your conscience. Save him, sire!--save him, while there is yet time!” “Rest easy, madame, I will save him,” said the Emperor, raising her. “I had no idea it had come to such a pass with your royal brother. I would not have him die for all my dominions. Haste and tell him so, madame. I will come to him speedily.” “The message will give him new life, sire,” rejoined Marguerite. “I will prepare him for the visit.” And with a grateful obeisance to the Emperor she retired, and, quitting the palace, hastened to the old Moorish castle in which François was confined. As soon as the duchess was gone, Gattinara said to the Emperor, “Sire, permit me to observe, that if you visit the king at this juncture, you must grant him his liberty unconditionally. Otherwise, your visit will be attributed to unworthy motives.” “Would you have the king die, as he infallibly will do, unless his Imperial Majesty sees him?” cried Bourbon. “I have deemed it my duty to point out to his majesty the construction that will be put upon his visit,” rejoined Gattinara, gravely. “The solid advantages of the victory are not to be sacrificed to an over-strained sense of honour,” remarked Lannoy. “If the king dies, all will be lost.” “Humanity dictates the course to be pursued,” said Bourbon. “To refuse to see the king would be to condemn him to death.” “By Santiago! I _will_ see him,” said the Emperor; “and, what is more, I will conclude the treaty with him. Bring it with you, Gattinara. Now to the prison.” II. HOW THE TREATY OF MADRID WAS SIGNED. |When Marguerite was admitted by the guard into the chamber in which her royal brother was confined, he was alone, and stretched upon a couch. “I have good tidings for your majesty,” she cried, flying towards him, and taking his hand. “The Emperor is coming to see you.” “It is too late,” said François. “He can do me no good now. I have lost all hope. Look here,” he added, taking a paper from beneath the cushion on which he was reclining, “this is an act by which I renounce the crown of France, and place it in the hands of the Dauphin, exhorting my family and my people to regard me as dead--and most likely I shall be dead ere this act can be delivered to my son.” “I shall not need to take it,” she rejoined. “I am persuaded you will now be able to make terms with the Emperor.” “I will rather die than submit to his conditions,” rejoined the king.