DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.63221#0190
150
THE FRENCH RENAISSANCE
dangerous. The dulness, the want of air and exercise, told
on his constitution, and he sank into a lethargy which soon
became alarming. The doctors said he would die unless
some hope were given him. So great was the impression he
had produced on the people, that the churches were full to
overflowing, and they prayed for his recovery as if he were
an Infant or Infanta. The Emperor dared not take the
responsibility of his death; he visited him in prison and tried
the effect of a few cheering falsehoods about the future.
But it was rather like the meeting of the fox and the crane,
and the French King’s condition remained the same.
This was the day before Margaret’s arrival at Madrid.
Charles V went to meet her at the Gate Alcazar. She
was dressed in “black velvet without jewel or ornament,
and a long white veil flowed over her shoulders.” She
curtseyed with dignity and grace; he kissed her on the
brow. The accounts of her brother frightened her and she
hastened to his bedside. He was unconscious—at the last
extremity. The Bishop d’Embrun prepared to celebrate
the Mass at his bedside. An altar was erected in his room,
and all his French comrades, together with his sister and
the servants, knelt side by side before it. At the Elevation,
the Bishop exhorted the King to lift his eyes upon the Host.
Francis awoke from his torpor and obeyed, raising his folded
hands towards it. At his own request, the Sacrament was
administered to him. “This is my God; He will cure me,
body and soul,” he exclaimed. Somebody objected that he
would not be able to swallow the sacred bread. “Oh, but
I shall,” he said; and from that hour he began steadily to
recover.
THE FRENCH RENAISSANCE
dangerous. The dulness, the want of air and exercise, told
on his constitution, and he sank into a lethargy which soon
became alarming. The doctors said he would die unless
some hope were given him. So great was the impression he
had produced on the people, that the churches were full to
overflowing, and they prayed for his recovery as if he were
an Infant or Infanta. The Emperor dared not take the
responsibility of his death; he visited him in prison and tried
the effect of a few cheering falsehoods about the future.
But it was rather like the meeting of the fox and the crane,
and the French King’s condition remained the same.
This was the day before Margaret’s arrival at Madrid.
Charles V went to meet her at the Gate Alcazar. She
was dressed in “black velvet without jewel or ornament,
and a long white veil flowed over her shoulders.” She
curtseyed with dignity and grace; he kissed her on the
brow. The accounts of her brother frightened her and she
hastened to his bedside. He was unconscious—at the last
extremity. The Bishop d’Embrun prepared to celebrate
the Mass at his bedside. An altar was erected in his room,
and all his French comrades, together with his sister and
the servants, knelt side by side before it. At the Elevation,
the Bishop exhorted the King to lift his eyes upon the Host.
Francis awoke from his torpor and obeyed, raising his folded
hands towards it. At his own request, the Sacrament was
administered to him. “This is my God; He will cure me,
body and soul,” he exclaimed. Somebody objected that he
would not be able to swallow the sacred bread. “Oh, but
I shall,” he said; and from that hour he began steadily to
recover.