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Updated: June 7, 2025
Poor Savoisy was sorely lamented by his lady, who had done all that a woman could do to save her lover, and later he was more than wept, he was regretted; for the countess having related this adventure to Queen Isabella, her majesty seduced Boys-Bourredon from the service of her cousin and put him to her own, so much was she touched with the qualities and firm courage of this gentleman.
Thereupon all rushed with a great noise through this said postern, crying, "Death to him! death to him!" and men-at-arms, archers, the constable, and the captains, all rushed full tilt upon Charles Savoisy, the king's nephew, who they attacked under the countess's window, where by a strange chance, the groans of the poor young man were dolorously exhaled, mingled with the yells of the soldiers, at the same time as passionate sighs and cries were given forth by the two lovers, who hastened up in great fear.
"Then, my dear, why not have told me so?" "Would you have believed me in the bestial passion you were in?" The constable scratched his ear and replied "But how came Savoisy with the key of the postern?" "I don't know," she said, curtly, "if you will have the goodness to believe what I have said to you."
Thereupon, she offered him her hand, and both boiling and trembling from the contrary causes found themselves inside the house. At this wretched hour, Madame d'Armagnac was ashamed of having done all these harlotries to the profit of death, and of betraying Savoisy the better to save him; but this slight remorse was lame as the greater, and came tardily.
You have given me a lieutenant." "Indeed!" "Who is he?" "It is not Savoisy, and I will never say the name of a man that I don't know." Thereupon the constable rose, took his wife by the arm to cut her speech with a blow of the sword, but she, casting upon him an imperial glance, cried "Kill me if you will, but touch me not."
And indeed M. d'Armagnac appeared very soon with a head in his hand, and putting it all bloody on the mantleshelf, "Behold, Madame," said he, "a picture which will enlighten you concerning the duties of a wife towards her husband." "You have killed an innocent man," replied the countess, without changing colour. "Savoisy was not my lover."
And his wife turned lightly on her heel like a weather-cock turned by the wind, pretending to go and look after the household affairs. You can imagine that D'Armagnac was greatly embarrassed with the head of poor Savoisy, and that for his part Boys-Bourredon had no desire to cough while listening to the count, who was growling to himself all sorts of words.
"What is the matter?" said she. "Madame," asked the man of quick execution, "this child, is he the fruit of my loins, or those of Savoisy, your lover?" At this question Bonne turned pale, and sprang upon her son like a frightened frog leaping into the water. "Ah, he is really ours," said she. "If you do not wish to see his head roll at your feet confess yourself to me, and no prevarication.
When in 1389 the young queen, Isabel of Bavaria, came to Paris to be married, the king, on the morning of her entry, said to his chamberlain, Sire de Savoisy, "Prithee, take a good horse, and I will mount behind thee; and we will dress so as not to be known and go to see my wife cone in."
The same flame leaped in their hearts, the same harmony had struck for both, they embraced each other with a rapture in the delicious excess of that mad fever which you know well I hope; they fell into a profound forgetfulness of the dangers of Savoisy, of themselves, of the constable, of death, of life, of everything.
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