Armed, and with helmet in hand, H?el entered the hall at early dawn, only to find it deserted. The chapel too was closed, for the chaplain had gone, and only the knights keeping the death-watch remained.  
A page brought the knight a warm drink. He drained the cup, and as he turned to hand it back to him he saw the priest descending the stairs which led to the apartments of the Duchess.
 
“Have you seen our gracious lady? Then arrange for my admission also,” H?el said to him.
 
“Come outside with me,” replied the chaplain, much agitated, “and hear what I have to say, not here where we are so near the dead, but under God’s sky.”
 
Overcome with astonishment, H?el followed the chaplain as he strode forward in haste to the courtyard. As they went, a loud trumpet-blast sounded jubilantly from the battlements.
 
20
“Is the warder out of his senses? What means this fanfare in the house of the dead?” exclaimed H?el indignantly. “And what does that mean also? The black flag has been lowered on the watch-tower, and the banner with the arms of the Plantagenets floats in its place.”
 
“It means, noble knight,” replied the chaplain, “that Brittany has a new Duke,—our Lady Constance has a son.”[4]
 
The knight’s eyes glistened with delight, but it was only for an instant. With a sigh he gently said: “Poor Geoffrey! Unfortunate child!” Then he stood for a time in deep thought. “All the same,” he said at last, recovering himself, “messengers must carry the double news to all the castles and cities. The Council of the dead Duke must send ambassadors to the courts of England and France.”
 
“As King Henry is engaged in a campaign against Scotland and Queen Eleanor passes away the time among her castles in Guienne, there does not seem to be urgent need of haste,” said the chaplain.
 
21
“You are wrong. They must be informed as speedily as possible,” replied the knight. As he was in the act of mounting his steed, which a squire had brought, a page rushed up and summoned him to the Duchess.
 
The knight followed the messenger to an upper room, where one of the maids promptly met him, and conducted him to a large apartment, against the rear wall of which the Duchess’s bed stood under a gilded canopy. The curtains were partly drawn back, and in the half darkness he saw the face of the Duchess among the silken pillows. H?el knelt and awaited her commands. She motioned him to rise, and said, “Show him the child, Joconde.”
 
The nurse approached, and lifted the veil from the little white bundle she was carrying, so that he might see the child. As he stooped to look at him, the little one opened its eyes and uttered a faint cry. The plaintive tone pierced H?el’s heart. He laid his hand upon the child’s head and said with deep emotion, “Accept my homage, son of my brave lord and friend.”
 
22
The Duchess bade Joconde retire, and then said, “May all, worthy knight, like yourself, pay homage to Duke Arthur of Brittany, for it was this name my husband selected for his first son.” She gave way to her emotions for a moment, and then said with firm voice:
 
“Take this signet ring of my husband’s, show it to the members of the Council at Rennes,[5] and bid them execute my commands. The citizens of every city shall assemble; and to them and to every country it shall be proclaimed that Duchess Constance of Brittany will maintain the ducal authority, and that during the minority of her son she will rule all the possessions of the deceased Duke Geoffrey Plantagenet, with the help of God and the nobles of Brittany. Send a messenger also to the King of England and inform him of the death of his son and the birth of a grandson. But, above all, send a prudent man with a letter to King Philip Augustus at Paris.[6] Assure the King of our feudal loyalty as a vassal of France, and tell him we shall render him our usual service in time of peace or war, and pay the customary tribute. In consideration of this he is to assist us in case of necessity against any enemy of our country or of the young Duke. Have the letter drawn up in temperate and friendly tone.”
 
23
“It shall be done, my lady,” replied H?el; “and what are your wishes as to the funeral of the Duke?”
 
“He shall be buried in the Cathedral at Rennes, and the chaplain must see that everything necessary is done. Now go, and God preserve you. May you quickly return for our protection.” She leaned back, wearied. The curtains were closed, and the knight left the apartment with a feeling of relief. When he reached the courtyard he summoned his people and the chaplain, who inquired what commissions the Duchess had given him. He answered curtly, “Chaplain, he who says women are weak and timid has never known the Duchess Constance.”
 
“But, tell me—”
 
“Only this,” said H?el, with his hand upon his horse’s bridle, “France is the watchword. She said scarcely a word about England.”