The royal party met in the centre of the salon. Bourbon had followed his mother-in-law, and Saint-Vallier and René came over and stationed themselves beside him. “I am sorry to learn, sire,” said Claude, “that our cousin, the Constable de Bourbon, has incurred your displeasure. Let me intercede for him with your majesty.” “It is true that the Duke dc Bourbon has deeply offended me,” said the king. “But it is not too late for his restoration to favour.” “You hear that, prince,” said Claude to the Constable. “All may yet be well.” “Sire,” interposed the Dame de Beaujeu, “I ask for justice to my son-in-law, the Duke de Bourbon. Has he not served you faithfully? Has he not brought you men and treasure? Has he not bled for you in the field? And how has he been rewarded? By slights, by the withdrawal of his pensions, by the spoliation of his property, by disgrace, by dishonour. Sire, wrongs like these are enough to make a traitor of the noblest and most loyal heart in France.” “No wrong, madame, has been done to the Constable de Bourbon,” rejoined the king. “But, if I am not misinformed, he has already played the traitor.” Bourbon looked sternly at the king, but took no other notice of the insinuation. “Believe it not, sire,” said the Dame de Beaujeu. “Whoso has told you that has spoken falsely,” she added, glancing at the Duchess d'Angoulême. “Charles de Bourbon is no traitor. But goad him not to desperation by wrongs greater than any man can tamely endure.” “Peace, madame. You trouble the king,” said the Duchess d'Angoulême. “What!” exclaimed the Dame de Beaujeu, regarding her with unutterable scorn. “Is Anne of France, daughter of Louis XI., the wisest and the greatest monarch that ever sat on the throne, to hold her peace at the bidding of Louise de Savoie? But I will _not_ be silent. I will tell the king, your son, that he has done a flagrant act of injustice in aiding you to avenge yourself upon the Duke de Bourbon. All shall know the cause of your animosity.” “I will hear no more,” cried François, impatiently. “Listen to me, sire, I beseech you,” said Queen Claude. “You have done Bourbon grievous wrong. Make him some amends. You know I rarely interfere with your proceedings, but in this case I cannot refrain. I would not have you commit injustice.” “Do you also tax me with injustice?” said the king, frowning. “I have said it, sire,” she replied. “I should be wanting in duty to your majesty if I remained silent,” said Montmorency. “In my opinion, Bourbon has been unjustly treated.” “You, too, against me, marshal?” cried the king. “I will answer for Bourbon's loyalty with my head, sire,” said Saint-Vallier. “And so will I,” added René de Bretagne. “I take you at your word, messieurs,” replied François. “Charles de Bourbon, you are free to depart.” “Sire, you do wrong in granting this permission,” sad the Duchess d'Angoulême.