“Oh, this wretchedness!” she moaned. “Beautiful France desolate! The luxurious fields of the Loire laid waste! The poor people killed or fugitives in the forests! Townsmen in servitude or in continual fear of a victorious enemy! And you! What are you doing?” “How, I? Who laments all this more than I? Who has to suffer from it more than I? Am I not growing poorer every day because of it? I am afraid I shall not have even an ordinary dinner to-day.” He hastily rang a silver bell, and a servant entered. “Jacques, go to the cook and ask him what he has for dinner.” Contempt and deep sorrow were pictured on Marie’s face, but she quickly mastered her anger. “Certainly, my husband, you have to suffer,” said she, “but what kind of a king would he be who did not feel the sufferings of his people a thousand-fold?” “Pah! I feel my poverty above everything else.” “But what necessity is there for your poverty? Do you not know that your poverty will disappear on the day when you overcome the enemy?” “I overcome the enemy! God help me! I need what few mercenaries I have to forage for the kitchen. Raise fresh troops! How can I do it? What little gold there is in my treasury is already pledged. I overcome the enemy! Ha, ha, ha! they already hold nearly all of France. La Hire[12] told me to-day that Count Salisbury is before Orleans, and is besieging the city. When Orleans falls, I must fly from here. Then what? I shall end by being a beggar.” “You will not if you pluck up courage and remember that when the necessity is the greatest, divine aid is nearest, and that it is more glorious and more worthy of a king to be vanquished in battle than to be ruined by inglorious indolence.” “Pah! I will do neither the one nor the other. I will live and enjoy myself. That will compensate me for what I lacked in the hungry days of my youth. I will make terms with the English. They may have everything else if they will only leave me Languedoc.[13] I can live there in a manner that suits my income.” “Shame! shame! what is this I hear?” exclaimed Marie. “Are you a Valois? Does royal blood flow in your veins? Do you not blush to utter such words? Oh, my husband, do whatever else you wish, but save France and me from such shame.” “Well, well, all is not over yet at Orleans.” “But even if it fall, and if all seem lost, even then do not make such a shameful agreement.” With these words the noble lady retired. The moral indignation of her manner and her words appeared to make some impression upon the Dauphin. He buried his face in his hands, and was absorbed in thought—as far as he was capable of thinking.