Startled by so unexpected an order, M. de Joinville feigned a ready compliance, but on his dismissal from the royal closet he expressed his indignation in no measured terms, declaring that had any other than the sovereign proposed to him so disgraceful an alliance, whatever might have been his rank, he would have resented the insult upon the instant; while no sooner did the Duchess his mother become apprised of the circumstance, than she hastened to throw herself at the feet of the King, beseeching him rather to take her life than to subject her son to such dishonour.

“Rise, Madame,” said Henry gravely; “yours is a petition which I cannot grant, as I never yet took the life of any woman, and have still to learn the possibility of doing so.”

“A Guise, Sire,” pursued the haughty Duchess, as she once more stood erect before him, “cannot marry the mistress of any man, even although that man should chance to be his monarch.”

“Every man, Madame,” retorted the King, “must pay the penalty of seeking to humiliate his sovereign, even although that man be a Guise.”

“M. de Joinville, Sire, shall never become the husband of Jacqueline de Bueil.”

“Neither, Madame,” said the King angrily, “shall he ever become her gallant.  This is not the first occasion upon which he has had the insolence to interpose between me and my favourites.  I have not yet forgotten his intrigue with Madame de Verneuil; and if I pardoned him upon that occasion, it was not on his own account, but from respect for the relationship which exists between us.  Neither, Madame, has it escaped my memory that the House of Guise endeavoured to wrest from me the crown of France; and, in short, finding myself so ill-requited for my indulgence, I am weary of exercising a lenity which has degenerated into weakness.  Your son is at perfect liberty to marry my mistress, since he has seen fit to desire it, and he shall do so, or repent his obduracy in the Bastille, where he will have time and leisure to learn the respect which he owes to his sovereign.”

“It is your Majesty who is wanting in respect to yourself,” said the Duchess haughtily.

“Madame!” exclaimed the King; “do not give me cause to forget that you are my aunt.  I can hear no more until you assume a tone better suited to our relative positions.  You have heard my resolve, and may retire.”

Thus abruptly dismissed, Madame de Guise withdrew, and hastened to apprise her son of the impending peril, upon which he escaped from the capital before the order issued for his arrest could be put into execution; while his relatives endeavoured by humility and submission to obtain his forgiveness.  Henry, however, had been too deeply wounded, alike by the levity of the son and the overbearing haughtiness of the mother, to yield to their entreaties, and the only concession which he could be induced to make was a conditional pardon involving the perpetual exile of the culprit.[362]