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These rivers, namely, the Sorel, the Mersey,* the Don, the Frith, and the Leven, are distant from the Tamar, eleven, eighteen, twenty, twenty-three and twenty-seven miles.
He was obliged to listen to a Latin verse, which the poet had composed upon Vatel. La Fontaine had, for an hour, been scanning this verse in all corners, seeking some one to pour it out upon advantageously. He thought he had caught Pellisson, but the latter escaped him; he turned towards Sorel, who had, himself, just composed a quatrain in honor of the supper, and the Amphytrion.
Master Sorel had invited him to become his guest at a very elaborate ornamental festival meal in honour of the great holiday, at which were to be present several wealthy citizens with their wives and families, old connections of the Sorel family.
This the kind-hearted baron promised faithfully to do, and then departed for Quebec, where he arrived shortly before the winter set in. A lively and picturesque scene enough is that presented by the little market-place of Sorel. December has come, and with it the usual heavy and incessant falls of snow.
If in thy favor the dread thunder speaks, Touch with thy hand this cross, and give a sign! More violent peals of thunder. The KING, AGNES SOREL, the ARCHBISHOP, BURGUNDY, LA HIRE, DUCHATEL retire. DUNOIS. Thou art my wife; I have believed in thee From the first glance, and I am still unchanged. In thee I have more faith than in these signs, Than in the thunder's voice, which speaks above.
There, the Schneiderlein proceeded to say, they put up for the night, entirely unsuspicious of evil; Jacob Muller, who was known to himself, as well as to Sorel and to the others, assuring them that the way was clear to Ratisbon, and that he heard the Emperor was most favourably disposed to any noble who would tender his allegiance.
Sorel, Boisverd, Wright and Delorier took their stations at the four corners, to hold it together, and swim across with it; and in a moment more, all our earthly possessions were floating on the turbid waters of the Big Blue. We sat on the bank, anxiously watching the result, until we saw the raft safe landed in a little cove far down on the opposite bank.
The gem of the place, however, is neither the big marronier, nor the collegial church, nor the mighty dungeon, nor the hideous prisons of Louis XI.; it is simply the tomb of Agnes Sorel, la belle des belles, so many years the mistress of Charles VII. She was buried, in 1450, in the collegial church, whence, in the beginning of the present century, her remains, with the monument that marks them, were transferred to one of the towers of the castle.
But to follow the great tradition of human wisdom deliberately, with our eyes open in the manner of Sorel, that seems a crazy procedure. A notion of intellectual honor fights against it: we think we must aim at final truth, and not allow autobiography to creep into speculation. Now the trouble with such an idol is that autobiography creeps in anyway.
La Fontaine in vain endeavored to gain attention to his verses; Sorel wanted to obtain a hearing for his quatrain. He was obliged to retreat before M. le Comte de Chanost whose arm Fouquet had just taken. L'Abbe Fouquet perceived that the poet, absent-minded, as usual, was about to follow the two talkers, and he interposed. La Fontaine seized upon him, and recited his verses.
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