be bought?”
“What splendor! Our mighty King is as a beggar beside this one—and he a petty Duke of Valence!”
They were hostile. He should have come more humbly, had he wished to impress the French.
Cesare felt from the first moment that they were sneering at him, that Louis’ old wool cloak and stained beaver hat were worn to call attention to the tastelessness of the upstart Duke—who was but a bastard. Cesare was among foreigners and he was made to feel it.
He vividly remembered his first meeting with the King at Chinon where the French Court was at that time. Louis was too clever to reproach him for his splendor or to show that he had noticed it; but he told Cesare that Carlotta of Naples was with Anne of Brittany and it would depend on the future Queen when they would be allowed to meet.
Cesare suspected treachery, and withheld the Bull of Divorce.
Was it not a business arrangement? Was not the price of the Bull, marriage as well as French titles and estates?
That was not so, Louis pointed out when Cesare continued to withhold the Bull; for he was a man to keep his word, and how could he bargain with that which was not his to offer? Cesare had his estates. He was indeed Duke of Valence; and he had what Louis had promised, his permission to seek marriage with Carlotta. Louis had paid in full; he now demanded the Bull of Divorce.
It was then that Cesare began to respect these people, and to realize that he must be more discreet in his demands. There was nothing to do but hand over the Bull to Louis, who, delighted with what he had got, set about making plans for his marriage, and told Cesare that he too was free to go ahead with his courtship.
But the months had passed and opportunities were denied Cesare. Anne of Brittany had promised him nothing, she implied. She did not greatly desire marriage. It was the King who was the ardent suitor.
Cesare did not doubt that, once he had a chance to woo the girl, she would soon be his wife. He was conscious of the whispering that went on around him; he guessed what was being said in Rome, and that his enemies there, who would not have dared to mention his name while he was in Rome, would now be writing their epigrams on the walls.
Carlotta was conscious of him now. Her eyes often strayed in his direction. He smiled at her and brought into full play all that fascination which had been wont to bring Italian women at his bidding.
She sat eating, pretending to be absorbed in her food and the conversation of the man at her side. How insulting of the King and Queen to let her sit beside that man! And who was he? He was fair-haired and smooth-skinned. Cesare was conscious nowadays of others’ skins, because his had never regained its youthful smoothness, and this defect, although mitigated by his strikingly handsome features, irritated him.
He demanded of his neighbor: “Who is that man seated next to the Lady Carlotta?”
The answer was a lift of the shoulder. “Some Breton baron, I believe.”
Clearly, thought Cesare, a man of no importance.
And when the feasting was over and there was dancing, the Queenevidently remembered her obligations, for she called Carlotta to sit beside her and when she was seated there she sent for Cesare to come to her.
Carlotta of Naples looked at the man of whom she had heard so much, Cesare Borgia whose scandalous behavior with her cousin Sanchia had been spoken of even in France. She compared him with the gentle Breton baron, and she said to herself: “Never … never! I’d rather die.”
Cesare bowed over her hand. His eyes would have alarmed her had she not been in this crowded ballroom and felt the cool protectiveness of the Queen.
“Have we Your Majesty’s permission to dance?” asked Cesare of the Queen.
Anne replied: “My lord Duke, you have mine if you have the lady’s.”
Cesare took Carlotta’s hand and almost pulled her to her feet. Carlotta was too astonished to protest; Cesare clearly did not understand
“What splendor! Our mighty King is as a beggar beside this one—and he a petty Duke of Valence!”
They were hostile. He should have come more humbly, had he wished to impress the French.
Cesare felt from the first moment that they were sneering at him, that Louis’ old wool cloak and stained beaver hat were worn to call attention to the tastelessness of the upstart Duke—who was but a bastard. Cesare was among foreigners and he was made to feel it.
He vividly remembered his first meeting with the King at Chinon where the French Court was at that time. Louis was too clever to reproach him for his splendor or to show that he had noticed it; but he told Cesare that Carlotta of Naples was with Anne of Brittany and it would depend on the future Queen when they would be allowed to meet.
Cesare suspected treachery, and withheld the Bull of Divorce.
Was it not a business arrangement? Was not the price of the Bull, marriage as well as French titles and estates?
That was not so, Louis pointed out when Cesare continued to withhold the Bull; for he was a man to keep his word, and how could he bargain with that which was not his to offer? Cesare had his estates. He was indeed Duke of Valence; and he had what Louis had promised, his permission to seek marriage with Carlotta. Louis had paid in full; he now demanded the Bull of Divorce.
It was then that Cesare began to respect these people, and to realize that he must be more discreet in his demands. There was nothing to do but hand over the Bull to Louis, who, delighted with what he had got, set about making plans for his marriage, and told Cesare that he too was free to go ahead with his courtship.
But the months had passed and opportunities were denied Cesare. Anne of Brittany had promised him nothing, she implied. She did not greatly desire marriage. It was the King who was the ardent suitor.
Cesare did not doubt that, once he had a chance to woo the girl, she would soon be his wife. He was conscious of the whispering that went on around him; he guessed what was being said in Rome, and that his enemies there, who would not have dared to mention his name while he was in Rome, would now be writing their epigrams on the walls.
Carlotta was conscious of him now. Her eyes often strayed in his direction. He smiled at her and brought into full play all that fascination which had been wont to bring Italian women at his bidding.
She sat eating, pretending to be absorbed in her food and the conversation of the man at her side. How insulting of the King and Queen to let her sit beside that man! And who was he? He was fair-haired and smooth-skinned. Cesare was conscious nowadays of others’ skins, because his had never regained its youthful smoothness, and this defect, although mitigated by his strikingly handsome features, irritated him.
He demanded of his neighbor: “Who is that man seated next to the Lady Carlotta?”
The answer was a lift of the shoulder. “Some Breton baron, I believe.”
Clearly, thought Cesare, a man of no importance.
And when the feasting was over and there was dancing, the Queenevidently remembered her obligations, for she called Carlotta to sit beside her and when she was seated there she sent for Cesare to come to her.
Carlotta of Naples looked at the man of whom she had heard so much, Cesare Borgia whose scandalous behavior with her cousin Sanchia had been spoken of even in France. She compared him with the gentle Breton baron, and she said to herself: “Never … never! I’d rather die.”
Cesare bowed over her hand. His eyes would have alarmed her had she not been in this crowded ballroom and felt the cool protectiveness of the Queen.
“Have we Your Majesty’s permission to dance?” asked Cesare of the Queen.
Anne replied: “My lord Duke, you have mine if you have the lady’s.”
Cesare took Carlotta’s hand and almost pulled her to her feet. Carlotta was too astonished to protest; Cesare clearly did not understand
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