more important personage appeared upon the scene, one who henceforth should be the very centre of existence both to Margaret and to her mother.
"Francis, by the grace of God, King of France, and my pacific Cæsar, took his first experience of earthly light at Congnac, about ten hours after noon, the twelfth day of September 1494."
So triumphantly runs Louisa's journal. But the next entry sobers all that joy:—
"The first day of January 1496 I lost my husband."
An intermittent fever, common and fatal in those days of imperfect drainage, carried off the Count of Angoulême at forty, and left Louisa a widow in her twentieth year. For some weeks it appeared as though her two little children might be left utterly desolate, for, broken down with long nursing and a most bitter sorrow, the young Countess fell seriously ill. She was, however, too young, too vigorous, to die of grief. She recovered, finding in her children sufficient motive for existence. Retiring to her dower-house of Romorantin, Louisa busied herself in training Margaret. This girl she intended to become the most accomplished princess of her age. Madame de Chatillon, a lady of great learning, rank, and virtue, was engaged as governess to the young princess, and scholars of note were employed to instruct her in Latin, in philosophy, and in divinity. But if Louisa cared so well for her daughter, yet more absolutely was she engrossed by the future of her infant son. Her passionate heart, left empty by her husband's death, gave harbour to an unrestrained ambition, and her dreams began early to fulfil themselves. On the 6th April 1498 the young King died childless, and his childless brother-in-law, Louis, Duke of Orleans, succeeded him, under the title of
