days too late. The city had capitulated to Duke René. On the fifth of
January a battle was fought before Nancy, but Fortune had turned her
back for all and all on this cruel Duke of Burgundy and Count of
Charolois. The disasters at Granson and Morat were repeated. At
nightfall Charles could not be found. I supposed that he had escaped,
but the next morning his body was found by a washerwoman, frozen in the
ice of a pond. He had been killed through the machinations of
Campo-Basso. Duke René magnanimously gave Charles regal burial, and
dismissed his followers without ransom. You may be sure I was eager to
return to Peronne.

Fortune, in turning her back upon Charles, had turned her smiling face
toward Max. Her ladyship's smiles were too precious to be wasted, so we
made post-haste for Peronne, I spurred by one motive, Mary of Burgundy,
Max by another--Yolanda. His heart had grieved for her in castle, in
camp, and in din of battle. He had, unknown to me, formed a great and
noble resolution; and there was no horse swift enough to keep pace with
his desire when we started for Peronne.

I was the first to announce the duke's death. The dark news was given by
me to the duchess and the princess in Margaret's parlor. These poor
women tried to grieve, but they were not hypocrites, and they could not
weep. Each had received at Charles's hands only ill-usage and cruelty,
and in their hearts they must have felt relief at his death.

"It was sure to come," said Margaret. "The duke's bravery led him always
into danger. It is God's will, and it must be right."

The princess walked to the window, and said nothing, until I was about
to leave; then she turned to me nervously and asked:--