A human voice breaks
in upon the silence of the study, and the student is aware of
a fellow-creature in his world of documents. With such a
clue in hand, one may imagine how this wounded lioness would
spur and exasperate the resentment of her children, and what
would be the last words of counsel and command she left
behind her.
With these instancies of his dying mother - almost a voice
from the tomb - still tingling in his ears, the position of
young Charles of Orleans, when he was left at the head of
that great house, was curiously similar to that of
Shakspeare's Hamlet. The times were out of joint; here was a
murdered father to avenge on a powerful murderer; and here,
in both cases, a lad of inactive disposition born to set
these matters right. Valentina's commendation of Dunois
involved a judgment on Charles, and that judgment was exactly
correct. Whoever might be, Charles was not the man to avenge
his father. Like Hamlet, this son of a dear father murdered
was sincerely grieved at heart. Like Hamlet, too, he could
unpack his heart with words, and wrote a most eloquent letter
to the king, complaining that what was denied to him would
not be denied "to the lowest born and poorest man on earth."
Even in his private hours he strove to preserve a lively
recollection of his injury, and keep up the native hue of
resolution.
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