diff options
Diffstat (limited to '7426.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 7426.txt | 23644 |
1 files changed, 23644 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/7426.txt b/7426.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1c8711 --- /dev/null +++ b/7426.txt @@ -0,0 +1,23644 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chicot the Jester, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Chicot the Jester + An Abridged Translation of "La dame de Monsoreau" + +Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7426] +This file was first posted on April 28, 2003 +Last Updated: April 5, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHICOT THE JESTER *** + + + + +Produced by Robert J. Hall + + + + + + + + +CHICOT THE JESTER + +Abridged translation of "La dame de Monsoreau" + + +By Alexandre Dumas + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE WEDDING OF ST. LUC. + +On the evening of a Sunday, in the year 1578, a splendid fete was +given in the magnificent hotel just built opposite the Louvre, +on the other side of the water, by the family of Montmorency, who, +allied to the royalty of France, held themselves equal to princes. +This fete was to celebrate the wedding of Francois d'Epinay de +St. Luc, a great friend and favorite of the king, Henri III., +with Jeanne de Crosse-Brissac, daughter of the marshal of that +name. + +The banquet had taken place at the Louvre, and the king, who had +been with much difficulty induced to consent to the marriage, had +appeared at it with a severe and grave countenance. His costume +was in harmony with his face; he wore that suit of deep chestnut, +in which Clouet described him at the wedding of Joyeuse; and +this kind of royal specter, solemn and majestic, had chilled +all the spectators, but above all the young bride, at whom he +cast many angry glances. The reason of all this was known to +everyone, but was one of those court secrets of which no one likes +to speak. + +Scarcely was the repast finished, when the king had risen abruptly, +thereby forcing everyone to do the same. Then St. Luc approached +him, and said: "Sire, will your majesty do me the honor to accept +the fete, which I wish to give to you this evening at the Hotel +Montmorency?" This was said in an imploring tone, but Henri, +with a voice betraying both vexation and anger, had replied: + +"Yes, monsieur, we will go, although you certainly do not merit +this proof of friendship on our part." + +Then Madame de St. Luc had humbly thanked the king, but he turned +his back without replying. + +"Is the king angry with you?" asked the young wife of her husband. + +"I will explain it to you after, mon amie, when this anger shall +have passed away." + +"And will it pass away?" + +"It must." + +Mademoiselle de Brissac was not yet sufficiently Madame de St. +Luc to insist further; therefore she repressed her curiosity, +promising herself to satisfy it at a more favorable time. + +They were, therefore, expecting St. Luc at the Hotel Montmorency, +at the moment in which our story commences. St. Luc had invited +all the king's friends and all his own; the princes and their +favorites, particularly those of the Duc d'Anjou. He was always +in opposition to the king, but in a hidden manner, pushing forward +those of his friends whom the example of La Mole and Coconnas +had not cured. Of course, his favorites and those of the king +lived in a state of antagonism, which brought on rencontres two +or three times a month, in which it was rare that some one was +not killed or badly wounded. + +As for Catherine, she was at the height of her wishes; her favorite +son was on the throne, and she reigned through him, while she +pretended to care no more for the things of this world. St. Luc, +very uneasy at the absence of all the royal family, tried to +reassure his father-in-law, who was much distressed at this menacing +absence. Convinced, like all the world, of the friendship of +Henri for St. Luc, he had believed he was assuring the royal +favor, and now this looked like a disgrace. St. Luc tried hard +to inspire in them a security which he did not feel himself; +and his friends, Maugiron, Schomberg, and Quelus, clothed in +their most magnificent dresses, stiff in their splendid doublets, +with enormous frills, added to his annoyance by their ironical +lamentations. + +"Eh! mon Dieu! my poor friend," said Jacques de Levis, Comte +de Quelus, "I believe now that you are done for. The king is +angry that you would not take his advice, and M. d'Anjou because +you laughed at his nose." + +"No, Quelus, the king does not come, because he has made a pilgrimage +to the monks of the Bois de Vincennes; and the Duc d'Anjou is +absent, because he is in love with some woman whom I have forgotten +to invite." + +"But," said Maugiron, "did you see the king's face at dinner? +And as for the duke, if he could not come, his gentlemen might. +There is not one here, not even Bussy." + +"Oh! gentlemen," said the Duc de Brissac, in a despairing tone, +"it looks like a complete disgrace. Mon Dieu! how can our house, +always so devoted to his majesty, have displeased him?" + +The young men received this speech with bursts of laughter, which +did not tend to soothe the marquis. The young bride was also +wondering how St. Luc could have displeased the king. All at once +one of the doors opened and the king was announced. + +"Ah!" cried the marshal, "now I fear nothing; if the Duc d'Anjou +would but come, my satisfaction would be complete." + +"And I," murmured St. Luc; "I have more fear of the king present +than absent, for I fear he comes to play me some spiteful tricks." + +But, nevertheless, he ran to meet the king, who had quitted at last +his somber costume, and advanced resplendent in satin, feathers, +and jewels. But at the instant he entered another door opened +just opposite, and a second Henri III., clothed exactly like +the first, appeared, so that the courtiers, who had run to meet +the first, turned round at once to look at the second. + +Henri III. saw the movement, and exclaimed: + +"What is the matter, gentlemen?" + +A burst of laughter was the reply. The king, not naturally patient, +and less so that day than usual, frowned; but St. Luc approached, +and said: + +"Sire, it is Chicot, your jester, who is dressed exactly like +your majesty, and is giving his hand to the ladies to kiss." + +Henri laughed. Chicot enjoyed at his court a liberty similar +to that enjoyed thirty years before by Triboulet at the court +of Francois I., and forty years after by Longely at the court +of Louis XIII. Chicot was not an ordinary jester. Before being +Chicot he had been "De Chicot." He was a Gascon gentleman, who, +ill-treated by M. de Mayenne on account of a rivalry in a love +affair, in which Chicot had been victorious, had taken refuge +at court, and prayed the king for his protection by telling him +the truth. + +"Eh, M. Chicot," said Henri, "two kings at a time are too much." + +"Then," replied he, "let me continue to be one, and you play Duc +d'Anjou; perhaps you will be taken for him, and learn something +of his doings." + +"So," said Henri, looking round him, "Anjou is not here." + +"The more reason for you to replace him. It is settled, I am +Henri, and you are Francois. I will play the king, while you dance +and amuse yourself a little, poor king." + +"You are right, Chicot, I will dance." + +"Decidedly," thought De Brissac, "I was wrong to think the king +angry; he is in an excellent humor." + +Meanwhile St. Luc had approached his wife. She was not a beauty, +but she had fine black eyes, white teeth, and a dazzling complexion. + +"Monsieur," said she to her husband, "why did they say that the +king was angry with me; he has done nothing but smile on me ever +since he came?" + +"You did not say so after dinner, dear Jeanne, for his look then +frightened you." + +"His majesty was, doubtless, out of humor then, but now--" + +"Now, it is far worse; he smiles with closed lips. I would rather +he showed me his teeth. Jeanne, my poor child, he is preparing +for us some disagreeable surprise. Oh I do not look at me so +tenderly, I beg; turn your back to me. Here is Maugiron coming; +converse with him, and be amiable to him." + +"That is a strange recommendation, monsieur." + +But St. Luc left his wife full of astonishment, and went to pay +his court to Chicot, who was playing his part with a most laughable +majesty. + +The king danced, but seemed never to lose sight of St. Luc. Sometimes +he called him to repeat to him some pleasantry, which, whether +droll or not, made St. Luc laugh heartily. Sometimes he offered +him out of his comfit box sweetmeats and candied fruits, which +St. Luc found excellent. If he disappeared for an instant, the +king sent for him, and seemed not happy if he was out of his +sight. All at once a voice rose above all the tumult. + +"Oh!" said Henri, "I think I hear the voice of Chicot; do you +hear, St. Luc?--the king is angry." + +"Yes, sire, it sounds as though he were quarreling with some one." + +"Go and see what it is, and come back and tell me." + +As St. Luc approached he heard Chicot crying: + +"I have made sumptuary laws, but if they are not enough I will +make more; at least they shall be numerous, if they are not good. +By the horn of Beelzebub, six pages, M. de Bussy, are too much." + +And Chicot, swelling out his cheeks, and putting his hand to his +side, imitated the king to the life. + +"What does he say about Bussy?" asked the king, when St. Luc +returned. St. Luc was about to reply, when the crowd opening, +showed to him six pages, dressed in cloth of gold, covered with +chains, and bearing on their breasts the arms of their masters, +sparkling in jewels. Behind them came a young man, handsome and +proud; who walked with his head raised and a haughty look, and +whose simple dress of black velvet contrasted with the splendor +of his pages. This was Bussy d'Amboise. Maugiron, Schomberg, +and Quelus had drawn near to the king. + +"See," said Maugiron, "here is the servant, but where is the master? +Are you also in disgrace with him, St. Luc?" + +"Why should he follow Bussy?" said Quelus. + +"Do you not remember that when his majesty did M. de Bussy the +honor to ask him if he wished to belong to him, he replied that, +being of the House of Clermont, he followed no one, and belonged +to himself." + +The king frowned. + +"Yes," said Maugiron, "whatever you say, he serves the Duc d'Anjou." + +"Then it is because the duke is greater than the king." + +No observation could have been more annoying to the king than +this, for he detested the Duc d'Anjou. Thus, although he did +not answer, he grew pale. + +"Come, come, gentlemen," said St. Luc, trembling, "a little charity +for my guests, if you please; do not spoil my wedding day." + +"Yes," said the king, in a mocking tone; "do not spoil St. Luc's +wedding-day." + +"Oh!" said Schomberg, "is Bussy allied to the Brissacs?--since +St. Luc defends him." + +"He is neither my friend nor relation, but he is my guest," said +St. Luc. The king gave an angry look. "Besides," he hastened +to add, "I do not defend him the least in the world." + +Bussy approached gravely behind his pages to salute the king, +when Chicot cried: + +"Oh, la! Bussy d'Amboise, Louis de Clermont, Comte de Bussy, +do you not see the true Henri, do you not know the true king +from the false? He to whom you are going is Chicot, my jester, +at whom I so often laugh." + +Bussy continued his way, and was about to bow before the king, +when he said: + +"Do you not hear, M. de Bussy, you are called?" and, amidst shouts +of laughter from his minions, he turned his back to the young +captain. Bussy reddened with anger, but he affected to take the +king's remark seriously, and turning round towards Chicot: + +"Ah! pardon, sire," said he, "there are kings who resemble jesters +so much, that you will excuse me, I hope, for having taken a +jester for a king." + +"Hein," murmured Henri, "what does he say?" + +"Nothing, sire," said St. Luc. + +"Nevertheless, M. Bussy," said Chicot; "it was unpardonable." + +"Sire, I was preoccupied." + +"With your pages, monsieur," said Chicot; "you ruin yourself in +pages, and, par la mordieu, it is infringing our prerogatives." + +"How so? I beg your majesty to explain." + +"Cloth of gold for them, while you a gentleman, a colonel, a +Clermont, almost a prince, wear simple black velvet." + +"Sire," said Bussy, turning towards the kings' minions, "as we +live in a time when lackeys dress like princes, I think it good +taste for princes to dress like lackeys." + +And he returned to the young men in their splendid dress the +impertinent smiles which they had bestowed on him a little before. +They grew pale with fury, and seemed only to wait the king's +permission to fall upon Bussy. + +"Is it for me and mine that you say that?" asked Chicot, speaking +like the king. + +Three friends of Bussy's now drew near to him. These were Charles +d'Antragues, Francois, Vicomte de Ribeirac, and Livarot. Seeing +all this, St. Luc guessed that Bussy was sent by Monsieur to +provoke a quarrel. He trembled more than ever, for he feared +the combatants were about to take his house for a battle-field. +He ran to Quelus, who already had his hand on his sword, and +said, "In Heaven's name be moderate." + +"Parbleu, he attacks you as well as us." + +"Quelus, think of the Duc d'Anjou, who supports Bussy; you do +not suppose I fear Bussy himself?" + +"Eh! Mordieu, what need we fear; we belong to the king. If we +get into peril for him he will help us." + +"You, yes; but me," said St. Luc, piteously. + +"Ah dame, why do you marry, knowing how jealous the king is in +his friendships?" + +"Good," thought St. Luc, "everyone for himself; and as I wish +to live tranquil during the first fortnight of my marriage, I +will make friends with M. Bussy." And he advanced towards him. +After his impertinent speech, Bussy had looked round the room to +see if any one would take notice of it. Seeing St. Luc approach, +he thought he had found what he sought. + +"Monsieur," said he, "is it to what I said just now, that I owe +the honor of the conversation you appear to desire?" + +"Of what you have just said, I heard nothing. No, I saw you, +and wished to salute you, and thank you for the honor you have +done me by your presence here." + +Bussy, who knew the courage of St. Luc, understood at once that +he considered the duties of a host paramount, and answered him +politely. + +Henri, who had seen the movement said, "Oh, oh! I fear there is +mischief there; I cannot have St. Luc killed. Go and see, Quelus; +no, you are too rash--you, Maugiron." + +But St. Luc did not let him approach Bussy, but came to meet him +and returned with him to the king. + +"What have you been saying to that coxcomb?" asked the king. + +"I, sire?" + +"Yes, you." + +"I said, good evening." + +"Oh! was that all?" + +St. Luc saw he was wrong. "I said, good evening; adding, that +I would have the honor of saying good morning to-morrow." + +"Ah! I suspected it." + +"Will your majesty keep my secret?" said St. Luc. + +"Oh! parbleu, if you could get rid of him without injury to +yourself----" + +The minions exchanged a rapid glance, which Henri III. seemed +not to notice. + +"For," continued he, "his insolence is too much." + +"Yes, yes," said St. Luc, "but some day he will find his master." + +"Oh!" said the king, "he manages the sword well. Why does he not +get bit by some dog?" And he threw a spiteful glance on Bussy, +who was walking about, laughing at all the king's friends. + +"Corbleu!" cried Chicot, "do not be so rude to my friends, M. +Bussy, for I draw the sword, though I am a king, as well as if +I was a common man." + +"If he continue such pleasantries, I will chastise Chicot, sire," +said Maugiron. + +"No, no, Maugiron, Chicot is a gentleman. Besides, it is not +he who most deserves punishment, for it is not he who is most +insolent." + +This time there was no mistaking, and Quelus made signs to D'O +and D'Epernon, who had been in a different part of the room, +and had not heard what was going on. "Gentlemen," said Quelus, +"come to the council; you, St. Luc, go and finish making your +peace with the king." + +St. Luc approached the king, while the others drew back into a +window. + +"Well," said D'Epernon, "what do you want? I was making love, +and I warn you, if your recital be not interesting I shall be +very angry." + +"I wish to tell you that after the ball I set off for the chase." + +"For what chase?" + +"That of the wild boar." + +"What possesses you to go, in this cold, to be killed in some +thicket?" + +"Never mind, I am going." + +"Alone?" + +"No, with Maugiron and Schomberg. We hunt for the king." + +"Ah! yes, I understand," said Maugiron and Schomberg. + +"The king wishes a boar's head for breakfast to-morrow." + +"With the neck dressed a l'Italienne," said Maugiron, alluding +to the turn-down collar which Bussy wore in opposition to their +ruffs. + +"Ah, ah," said D'Epernon, "I understand." + +"What is it?" asked D'O, "for I do not." + +"Ah! look round you." + +"Well!" + +"Did any one laugh at us here?" + +"Yes, Bussy." + +"Well, that is the wild boar the king wants." + +"You think the king----" + +"He asks for it." + +"Well, then, so be it. But how do we hunt?" + +"In ambush; it is the surest." + +Bussy remarked the conference, and, not doubting that they were +talking of him, approached, with his friends. + +"Look, Antragues, look, Ribeirac," said he, "how they are grouped; +it is quite touching; it might be Euryale and Nisus, Damon and +Pythias, Castor and----. But where is Pollux?" + +"Pollux is married, so that Castor is left alone." + +"What can they be doing?" + +"I bet they are inventing some new starch." + +"No, gentlemen," said Quelus, "we are talking of the chase." + +"Really, Signor Cupid," said Bussy; "it is very cold for that. +It will chap your skin." + +"Monsieur," replied Maugiron, politely, "we have warm gloves, +and doublets lined with fur." + +"Ah! that reassures me," said Bussy; "do you go soon?" + +"To-night, perhaps." + +"In that case I must warn the king; what will he say to-morrow, +if he finds his friends have caught cold?" + +"Do not give yourself that trouble, monsieur," said Quelus, "his +majesty knows it." + +"Do you hunt larks?" asked Bussy, with an impertinent air. + +"No, monsieur, we hunt the boar. We want a head. Will you hunt +with us, M. Bussy?" + +"No, really, I cannot. To-morrow I must go to the Duc d'Anjou +for the reception of M. de Monsoreau, to whom monseigneur has +just given the place of chief huntsman." + +"But, to-night?" + +"Ah! To-night, I have a rendezvous in a mysterious house of the +Faubourg St. Antoine." + +"Ah! ah!" said D'Epernon, "is the Queen Margot here, incognito, +M. de Bussy?" + +"No, it is some one else." + +"Who expects you in the Faubourg St. Antoine?" + +"Just so, indeed I will ask your advice, M. de Quelus." + +"Do so, although I am not a lawyer, I give very good advice." + +"They say the streets of Paris are unsafe, and that is a lonely +place. Which way do you counsel me to take?" + +"Why, I advise you to take the ferry-boat at the Pre-aux-Clercs, +get out at the corner, and follow the quay until you arrive at +the great Chatelet, and then go through the Rue de la Tixanderie, +until you reach the faubourg. Once at the corner of the Rue St. +Antoine, if you pass the Hotel des Tournelles without accident, +it is probable you will arrive safe and sound at your mysterious +house." + +"Thanks for your route, M. de Quelus, I shall be sure to follow +it." And saluting the five friends, he went away. + +As Bussy was crossing the last saloon where Madame de St. Luc +was, her husband made a sign to her. She understood at once, +and going up, stopped him. + +"Oh! M. de Bussy," said she, "everyone is talking of a sonnet +you have made." + +"Against the king, madame?" + +"No, in honor of the queen; do tell it to me." + +"Willingly, madame," and, offering his arm to her, he went off, +repeating it. + +During this time, St. Luc drew softly near his friends, and heard +Quelus say: + +"The animal will not be difficult to follow; thus then, at the +corner of the Hotel des Tournelles, opposite the Hotel St. Pol." + +"With each a lackey?" asked D'Epernon. + +"No, no, Nogaret, let us be alone, and keep our own secret, and +do our own work. I hate him, but he is too much a gentleman for +a lackey to touch." + +"Shall we go out all six together?" + +"All five if you please," said St. Luc. + +"Ah! it is true, we forgot your wife." + +They heard the king's voice calling St. Luc. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "the king calls me. Good sport, au revoir." + +And he left them, but instead of going straight to the king, he +ran to where Bussy stood with his wife. + +"Ah! monsieur, how hurried you seem," said Bussy. "Are you going +also to join the chase; it would be a proof of your courage, +but not of your gallantry." + +"Monsieur, I was seeking you." + +"Really." + +"And I was afraid you were gone. Dear Jeanne, tell your father +to try and stop the king, whilst I say a few words tete-a-tete +to M. Bussy." Jeanne went. + +"I wish to say to you, monsieur," continued St. Luc, "that if +you have any rendezvous to-night, you would do well to put it +off, for the streets are not safe, and, above all, to avoid the +Hotel des Tournelles, where there is a place where several men +could hide. This is what I wished to say; I know you fear nothing, +but reflect." + +At this moment they heard Chicot's voice crying, "St. Luc, St. +Luc, do not hide yourself, I am waiting for you to return to +the Louvre." + +"Here I am, sire," cried St. Luc, rushing forward. Near Chicot +stood the king, to whom one page was giving his ermine mantle, +and another a velvet mask lined with satin. + +"Sire," said St. Luc, "I will have the honor of lighting your +majesties to your litters." + +"No," said Henri, "Chicot goes one way, and I another. My friends +are good-for-nothings, who have run away and left me to return +alone to the Louvre. I had counted on them, and you cannot let +me go alone. You are a grave married man, and must take me back +to the queen. Come, my friend, my litter is large enough for two." + +Madame de St. Luc, who had heard this, tried to speak, and to +tell her father that the king was carrying away her husband, but +he, placing his fingers on his month, motioned her to be silent. + +"I am ready, sire," said he, "to follow you." + +When the king took leave, the others followed, and Jeanne was +left alone. She entered her room, and knelt down before the image +of a saint to pray, then sat down to wait for her husband's return. +M. de Brissac sent six men to the Louvre to attend him back. But +two hours after one of them returned, saying, that the Louvre +was closed and that before closing, the captain of the watch +had said, "It is useless to wait longer, no one will leave the +Louvre to-night; his majesty is in bed." + +The marshal carried this news to his daughter. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +HOW IT IS NOT ALWAYS HE WHO OPENS THE DOOR, WHO ENTERS THE HOUSE. + +The Porte St. Antoine was a kind of vault in stone, similar to +our present Porte St. Denis, only it was attached by its left +side to buildings adjacent to the Bastile. The space at the right, +between the gate and the Hotel des Tournelles, was large and +dark, little frequented by day, and quite solitary at night, +for all passers-by took the side next to the fortress, so as +to be in some degree under the protection of the sentinel. Of +course, winter nights were still more feared than summer ones. + +That on which the events which we have recounted, and are about +to recount took place, was cold and black. Before the gate on +the side of the city, was no house, but only high walls, those +of the church of St. Paul, and of the Hotel des Tournelles. At +the end of this wall was the niche of which St. Luc had spoken +to Bussy. No lamps lighted this part of Paris at that epoch. +In the nights when the moon charged herself with the lighting +of the earth, the Bastile rose somber and majestic against the +starry blue of the skies, but on dark nights, there seemed only a +thickening of the shadows where it stood. On the night in question, +a practised eye might have detected in the angle of the wall of +the Tournelles several black shades, which moved enough to show +that they belonged to poor devils of human bodies, who seemed +to find it difficult to preserve their natural warmth as they. +stood there. The sentinel from the Bastile; who could not see +them on account of the darkness, could not hear them either, +for they talked almost in whispers. However, the conversation +did not want interest. + +"This Bussy was right," said one; "it is a night such as we had +at Warsaw, when Henri was King of Poland, and if this continues +we shall freeze." + +"Come, Maugiron, you complain like a woman," replied another: +"it is not warm, I confess; but draw your mantle over your eyes, +and put your hands in your pockets, and you will not feel it." + +"Really, Schomberg," said a third, "it is easy to see you are +German. As for me, my lips bleed, and my mustachios are stiff +with ice." + +"It is my hands," said a fourth; "on my honor, I would not swear +I had any." + +"You should have taken your mamma's muff, poor Quelus," said +Schomberg. + +"Eh! mon Dieu, have patience," said a fifth voice; "you will soon +be complaining you are hot." + +"I see some one coming through the Rue St. Paul," said Quelus. + +"It cannot be him; he named another route." + +"Might he not have suspected something, and changed it?" + +"You do not know Bussy; where he said he should go, he would go, +if he knew that Satan himself were barring his passage." + +"However, here are two men coming." + +"Ma foi! yes." + +"Let us charge," said Schomberg. + +"One moment," said D'Epernon; "do not let us kill good bourgeois, +or poor women. Hold! they stop." + +In fact, they had stopped, and looked as if undecided. "Oh, can +they have seen us?" + +"We can hardly see ourselves!" + +"See, they turn to the left; they stop before a house they are +seeking--they are trying to enter; they will escape us!" + +"But it is not him, for he was going to the Faubourg St. Antoine." + +"Oh! how do you know he told you right?" + +At this supposition they all rushed out, sword in hand, towards +the gentlemen. + +One of the men had just introduced a key into the lock; the door +had yielded and was about to open, when the noise of their assailants +made them turn. + +"What is this? Can it be against us, Aurilly?" said one. + +"Ah, monseigneur," said the other, who had opened the door, "it +looks like it. Will you name yourself, or keep incognito?" + +"Armed men--an ambush!" + +"Some jealous lover; I said the lady was too beautiful not to +be watched." + +"Let us enter quickly, Aurilly; we are safer within doors." + +"Yes, monseigneur, if there are not enemies within; but how do +you know----" + +He had not time to finish. The young men rushed up; Quelus and +Maugiron made for the door to prevent their entering, while +Schomberg, D'O, and D'Epernon prepared to attack in front. But +he who had been called monseigneur turned towards Quelus, who +was in front, and crossing his arms proudly, said: + +"You attack a son of France, M. Quelus!" + +Quelus drew back, trembling, and thunderstruck. + +"Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou!" he cried. + +"The Duc d'Anjou!" repeated the others. + +"Well, gentlemen," cried the duke. + +"Monseigneur," stammered D'Epernon, "it was a joke; forgive us." + +"Monseigneur," said D'O, "we did not dream of meeting your highness +here!" + +"A joke!" said the duke; "you have an odd manner of joking, M. +d'Epernon. Since it was not intended for me, whom did your jest +menace?" + +"Monseigneur," said Schomberg; "we saw St. Luc quit the Hotel +Montmorency and come this way; it seemed strange to us, and we +wished to see what took him out on his wedding night." + +"M. de St. Luc--you took me for him?" + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +"M. de St. Luc is a head taller then I am." + +"It is true, monseigneur; but he is just the height of M. Aurilly." + +"And seeing a man put a key in a lock, we took him for the +principal," added D'O. + +"Monseigneur cannot suppose that we had the shadow of an ill-will +towards him, even to disturb his pleasures?" + +As he listened, the duke, by a skilful movement, had, little +by little, quitted the door, followed by Aurilly, and was now +at some distance off. + +"My pleasures!" said he, angrily; "what makes you think I was +seeking pleasure?" + +"Ah, monseigneur, in any case pardon us, and let us retire," said +Quelus. + +"It is well; adieu, gentlemen; but first listen. I was going +to consult the Jew Manasses, who reads the future; he lives, +as you know, in Rue de la Tournelle. In passing, Aurilly saw +you and took you for the watch, and we, therefore, tried to hide +ourselves in a doorway. And now you know what to believe and +say; it is needless to add, that I do not wish to be followed," +and he turned away. + +"Monseigneur," said Aurilly, "I am sure these men have bad +intentions; it is near midnight, and this is a lonely quarter; +let us return home, I beg." + +"No, no; let us profit by their departure." + +"Your highness is deceived; they have not gone, but have returned +to their retreat: look in the angle of the Hotel des Tournelles." + +Francois looked, and saw that Aurilly was right; it was evident +that they waited for something, perhaps to see if the duke were +really going to the Jew. + +"Well, Monseigneur," continued Aurilly, "do you not think it will +be more prudent to go home?" + +"Mordieu! yet it is annoying to give up." + +"Yes; but it can be put off. I told your highness that the house +is taken for a year; we know the lady lodges on the first story. +We have gained her maid, and have a key which opens the door: +you may wait safely." + +"You are sure that the door yielded?" + +"Yes, at the third key I tried." + +"Are you sure you shut it again?" + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +Aurilly did not feel sure, as he said, but he did not choose to +admit it. + +"Well, I will go; I shall return some other time." And the duke +went away, promising to payoff the gentlemen for their interruption. + +They had hardly disappeared, when the five companions saw approach +a cavalier wrapped in a large cloak. The steps of his horse resounded +on the frozen ground, and they went slowly and with precaution, +for it was slippery. + +"This time," said Quelus, "it is he." + +"Impossible," said Maugiron. + +"Why?" + +"Because he is alone, and we left him with Livarot, Antragues, +and Ribeirac, who would not have let him run such a risk." + +"It is he, however; do you not recognize his insolent way of carrying +his head?" + +"Then," said D'O, "it is a snare." + +"In any case, it is he; and so to arms!" + +It was, indeed, Bussy, who came carelessly down the Rue St. Antoine, +and followed the route given him by Quelus; he had, as we have +seen, received the warning of St. Luc, and, in spite of it, had +parted from his friends at the Hotel Montmorency. It was one of +those bravadoes delighted in by the valiant colonel, who said +of himself, "I am but a simple gentleman, but I bear in my breast +the heart of an emperor; and when I read in Plutarch the exploits +of the ancient Romans, I think there is not one that I could +not imitate." And besides, he thought that St. Luc, who was not +ordinarily one of his friends, merely wished to get him laughed at +for his precautions; and Bussy feared ridicule more than danger. + +He had, even in the eyes of his enemies, earned a reputation for +courage, which could only be sustained by the rashest adventures. +Therefore, alone, and armed only with a sword and poniard, he +advanced towards the house where waited for him no person, but +simply a letter, which the Queen of Navarre sent him every month +on the same day, and which he, according to his promise to the +beautiful Marguerite, went to fetch himself, alone, and at night. + +When he arrived at the Rue St. Catherine, his active eye discerned +in the shade the forms of his adversaries. He counted them: "Three, +four, five," said he, "without counting the lackeys, who are +doubtless within call. They think much of me, it seems; all these +for one man. That brave St. Luc did not deceive me; and were his +even the first sword to pierce me I would cry, 'Thanks for your +warning, friend.'" So saying, he continued to advance, only his +arm held his sword under his cloak, of which he had unfastened +the clasp. + +It was then that Quelus cried, "To arms." + +"Ah, gentlemen," said Bussy, "it appears you wish to kill me: +I am the wild boar you had to hunt. Well, gentlemen, the wild +boar will rip up a few of you; I swear it to you, and I never +break my word." + +"Possibly," said Schomberg; "but it is not right, M. Bussy d'Amboise, +that you should be on horseback and we on foot." And as he spoke, +the arm of the young man, covered with white satin, which glistened +in the moonlight, came from under his cloak, and Bussy felt his +horse give way under him. Schomberg had, with an address peculiar +to himself, pierced the horse's leg with a kind of cutlass, of +which the blade was heavier than the handle and which had remained +in the wound. The animal gave a shrill cry and fell on his knees. +Bussy, always ready, jumped at once to the ground, sword in hand. + +"Ah!" cried he, "my favorite horse, you shall pay for this." +And as Schomberg approached incautiously, Bussy gave him a blow +which broke his thigh. Schomberg uttered a cry. + +"Well!" said Bussy, "have I kept my word? one already. It was +the wrist of Bussy, and not his horse's leg, you should have cut." + +In an instant, while Schomberg bound up his thigh with his +handkerchief, Bussy presented the point of his long sword to his +four other assailants, disdaining to cry for help, but retreating +gradually, not to fly, but to gain a wall, against which to support +himself, and prevent his being attacked behind, making all the +while constant thrusts, and feeling sometimes that soft resistance +of the flesh which showed that his blows had taken effect. Once +he slipped for an instant. That instant sufficed for Quelus to +give him a wound in the side. + +"Touched," cried Quelus. + +"Yes, in the doublet," said Bussy, who would not even acknowledge +his hurt. And rushing on Quelus, with a vigorous effort, he made +his sword fly from his hand. But he could not pursue his advantage, +for D'O, D'Epernon, and Maugiron attacked him, with fresh fury. +Schomberg had bound his wound, and Quelus picked up his sword. +Bussy made a bound backwards, and reached the wall. There he +stopped, strong as Achilles, and smiling at the tempest of blows +which rained around him. All at once he felt a cloud pass over his +eyes. He had forgotten his wound, but these symptoms of fainting +recalled it to him. + +"Ah, you falter!" cried Quelus. + +"Judge of it!" cried Bussy. And with the hilt of his sword he +struck him on the temple. Quelus fell under the blow. Then +furious--wild, he rushed forward, uttering a terrible cry. D'O +and D'Epernon drew back, Maugiron was raising Quelus, when Bussy +broke his sword with his foot, and wounded the right arm of +D'Epernon. For a moment he was conqueror, but Quelus recovered +himself, and four swords flashed again. Bussy felt himself lost. +He gathered all his strength to retreat once more step by step. +Already the perspiration was cold on his brow, and the ringing in +his ears and the cloud over his eyes warned him that his strength +was giving way. He sought for the wall with his left hand; to his +astonishment, it yielded. It was a door not quite closed. Then +he regained hope and strength for a last effort. For a second his +blows were rapid and violent. Then he let himself glide inside +the door, and pushed it to with a violent blow. It shut, and Bussy +was saved. He heard the furious blows of his enemies on the door, +their cries of rage, and wrathful imprecations. Then, the ground +seemed to fail under his feet, and the walls to move. He made a +few steps forward, and fell on the steps of a staircase. He knew +no more, but seemed to descend into the silence and obscurity +of the tomb. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +HOW IT IS SOMETIMES DIFFICULT TO DISTINGUISH A DREAM FROM THE +REALITY. + +Bussy had had time, before falling, to pass his handkerchief +under his shirt, and to buckle the belt of his sword over it, +so as to make a kind of bandage to the open wound whence the +blood flowed, but he had already lost blood enough to make him +faint. However, during his fainting fit, this is what Bussy saw, +or thought he saw. He found himself in a room with furniture of +carved wood, with a tapestry of figures, and a painted ceiling. +These figures, in all possible attitudes, holding flowers, carrying +arms, seemed to him to be stepping from the walls. Between the +two windows a portrait of a lady was hung. He, fixed to his bed, +lay regarding all this. All at once the lady of the portrait +seemed to move, and an adorable creature, clothed in a long white +robe, with fair hair falling over her shoulders, and with eyes +black as jet, with long lashes, and with a skin under which he +seemed to see the blood circulate, advanced toward the bed. This +woman was so beautiful, that Bussy made a violent effort to rise +and throw himself at her feet. But he seemed to be confined in +there by bonds like those which keep the dead body in the tomb, +while the soul mounts to the skies. This forced him to look at +the bed on which he was lying, and it seemed to him one of those +magnificent beds sculptured in the reign of Francis I., to which +were suspended hangings of white damask, embroidered in gold. + +At the sight of this woman, the people of the wall and ceiling +ceased to occupy his attention; she was all to him, and he looked +to see if she had left a vacancy in the frame. But suddenly she +disappeared; and an opaque body interposed itself between her +and Bussy, moving slowly, and stretching its arms out as though +it were playing blindman's buff. Bussy felt in such a passion at +this, that, had he been able, he would certainly have attacked +this importunate vision; but as he made a vain effort, the newcomer +spoke: + +"Well," said he, "have I arrived at last?" + +"Yes, monsieur," said a voice so sweet that it thrilled through +Bussy, "and now you may take off your bandage." Bussy made an +effort to see if the sweet voice belonged to the lady of the +portrait, but it was useless. He only saw the pleasant face of a +young man, who had just, as he was told, taken off his bandage, +and was looking curiously about him. + +"To the devil with this man," thought Bussy, and he tried to speak, +but fruitlessly. + +"Ah, I understand now," said the young man, approaching the bed; +"you are wounded, are you not, my dear sir? Well, we will try +to cure you." + +"Is the wound mortal?" asked the sweet voice again, with a sad +accent, which brought tears into the eyes of Bussy. + +"I do not know yet, I am going to see; meanwhile, he has fainted." + +This was all Bussy heard, he seemed to feel a red-hot iron in +his side, and then lost all consciousness. Afterwards, it was +impossible for Bussy to fix the duration of this insensibility. + +When he woke, a cold wind blew over his face, and harsh voices +sounded in his ears; he opened his eyes to see if it were the +people of the tapestry speaking, and hoping to see the lady again, +looked round him. But there was neither tapestry nor ceiling +visible, and the portrait had also disappeared. He saw at his +right only a man with a white apron spotted with blood; at his +left, a monk, who was raising his head; and before him, an old +woman mumbling her prayers. His wondering eyes next rested on +a mass of stone before him, in which he recognized the Temple, +and above that, the cold white sky, slightly tinted by the rising +sun. He was in the street. + +"Ah, thank you, good people," said he, "for the trouble you have +taken in bringing me here. I wanted air, but you might have given +it to me by opening the window, and I should have been better +on my bed of white damask and gold than on the bare ground. But +never mind, there is in my pocket, unless you have paid yourselves, +which would have been prudent, some twenty golden crowns; take, +my friends, take." + +"But, my good gentleman," said the butcher, "we did not bring +you here, but found you here as we passed." + +"Ah, diable! and the young doctor, was he here?" + +The bystanders looked at each other. + +"It is the remains of delirium," said the monk. Then, turning to +Bussy, "I think you would do well to confess," said he, "there +was no doctor, poor young man; you were here alone, and as cold +as death." + +Bussy then remembered having received a sword stroke, glided his +hand under his doublet, and felt his handkerchief in the same +place, fixed over his wound by his sword-belt. + +"It is singular," said he. + +Already profiting by his permission, the lookers-on were dividing +his purse. + +"Now, my friends," said he, "will you take me to my hotel?" + +"Ah, certainly," said the old woman, "poor dear young man, the +butcher is strong, and then he has his horse, on which you can +ride." + +"Yes, my gentleman, my horse and I are at your service." + +"Nevertheless, my son," said the monk, "I think you would do well +to confess." + +"What are you called?" asked Bussy. + +"Brother Gorenflot." + +"Well Brother Gorenflot, I trust my hour has not yet arrived +and as I am cold, I wish to get quickly home and warm myself." + +"What is your hotel called?" + +"Hotel de Bussy." + +"How!" cried all, "you belong to M. de Bussy?" + +"I am M. de Bussy himself." + +"Bussy," cried the butcher, "the brave Bussy, the scourge of the +minions!" And raising him, he was quickly carried home, whilst +the monk went away, murmuring, "If it was that Bussy, I do not +wonder he would not confess!" + +When he got home, Bussy sent for his usual doctor, who found the +wound not dangerous. + +"Tell me," said Bussy, "has it not been already dressed?" + +"Ma foi," said the doctor, "I am not sure." + +"And was it serious enough to make me delirious?" + +"Certainly." + +"Ah!" thought Bussy, "was that tapestry, that frescoed ceiling, +that bed, the portrait between the windows, the beautiful blonde +woman with black eyes, the doctor blindfolded, was this all delirium? +Is nothing true but my combat? Where did I fight? Ah, yes, I +remember; near the Bastile, by the Rue St. Paul. I leaned against +a door, and it opened; I shut it--and then I remember no more. +Have I dreamed or not? And my horse! My horse must have been +found dead on the place. Doctor, pray call some one." + +The doctor called a valet. Bussy inquired, and heard that the +animal, bleeding and mutilated, had dragged itself to the door +of the hotel, and had been found there. + +"It must have been a dream," thought he again: "how should a +portrait come down from the wall and talk to a doctor with a +bandage on his eyes? I am a fool; and yet when I remember she +was so charming," and he began to describe her beauties, till +he cried out, "It is impossible it should have been a dream; +and yet I found myself in the street, and a monk kneeling by +me. Doctor," said he, "shall I have to keep the house a fortnight +again for this scratch, as I did for the last?" + +"We shall see; can you walk?" + +"I seem to have quicksilver in my legs." + +"Try." + +Bussy jumped out of bed, and walked quickly round his room. + +"That will do," said the doctor, "provided that you do not go +on horseback, or walk ten miles the first day." + +"Capital! you are a doctor; however, I have seen another to-night. +Yes, I saw him, and if ever I meet him, I should know him." + +"I advise you not to seek for him, monsieur; one has always a +little fever after a sword wound; you should know that, who have +had a dozen." + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" cried Bussy, struck with a new idea, "did my +dream begin outside the door instead of inside? Was there no +more a staircase and a passage, than there was a bed with white +and gold damask, and a portrait? Perhaps those wretches, thinking +me dead, carried me to the Temple, to divert suspicion, should +any one have seen them hiding. Certainly, it must be so, and +I have dreamed the rest. Mon Dieu! if they have procured for +me this dream which torments me so, I swear to make an end of +them all." + +"My dear seigneur," said the doctor, "if you wish to get well, +you must not agitate yourself thus." + +"Except St. Luc," continued Bussy, without attending; "he acted +as a friend, and my first visit shall be to him." + +"Not before five this evening." + +"If you wish it; but, I assure you, it is not going out and seeing +people which will make me ill, but staying quietly at home." + +"Well, it is possible; you are always a singular patient; act +as you please, only I recommend you not to get another wound +before this one is healed." + +Bussy promised to do his best to avoid it, and, after dressing, +called for his litter to take him to the Hotel Montmorency. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +HOW MADAME DE ST. LUC HAD PASSED THE NIGHT. + +Louis de Clermont, commonly called Bussy d'Amboise, was a perfect +gentleman, and a very handsome man. Kings and princes had sought +for his friendship; queens and princesses had lavished on him +their sweetest smiles. He had succeeded La Mole in the affections +of Queen Marguerite, who had committed for him so many follies, +that even her husband, insensible so long, was moved at them; +and the Duke Francois would never have pardoned him, had it not +gained over Bussy to his interests, and once again he sacrificed +all to his ambition. But in the midst of all his successes of +war, ambition, and intrigue, he had remained insensible; and +he who had never known fear, had never either known love. + +When the servants of M. de St. Luc saw Bussy enter, they ran to +tell M. de Brissac. + +"Is M. de St. Luc at home?" asked Bussy. + +"No, monsieur." + +"Where shall I find him?" + +"I do not know, monsieur. We are all very anxious about him, for +he has not returned since yesterday." + +"Nonsense." + +"It is true, monsieur." + +"But Madame de St. Luc?" + +"Oh, she is here." + +"Tell her I shall be charmed if she will allow me to pay my respects +to her." + +Five minutes after, the messenger returned, saying Madame de St. +Luc would be glad to see M. de Bussy. + +When Bussy entered the room, Jeanne ran to meet him. She was +very pale, and her jet black hair made her look more so; her +eyes were red from her sleepless night, and there were traces +of tears on her cheeks. + +"You are welcome, M. de Bussy," said she, "in spite of the fears +your presence awakens." + +"What do you mean, madame? how can I cause you fear?" + +"Ah! there was a meeting last night between you and M. de St. +Luc? confess it." + +"Between me and St. Luc!" + +"Yes, he sent me away to speak to you; you belong to the Duc +d'Anjou, he to the king. You have quarrelled--do not hide it +from me. You must understand my anxiety. He went with the king, +it is true--but afterwards?" + +"Madame, this is marvelous. I expected you to ask after my wound----" + +"He wounded you; he did fight, then?" + +"No, madame; not with me at least; it was not he who wounded +me. Indeed, he did all he could to save me. Did he not tell you +so?" + +"How could he tell me? I have not seen him." + +"You have not seen him? Then your porter spoke the truth." + +"I have not seen him since eleven last night." + +"But where can he be?" + +"I should rather ask you." + +"Oh, pardieu, tell me about it, it is very droll." + +The poor woman looked at him with astonishment. + +"No, it is very sad, I mean. I have lost much blood, and scarcely +know what I am saying. Tell me this lamentable story, madame." + +Jeanne told all she knew; how the king had carried him off, the +shutting of the doors of the Louvre, and the message of the guards. + +"Ah! very well, I understand," said Bussy. + +"How! you understand." + +"Yes; his majesty took him to the Louvre and once there he could +not come out again." + +"And why not?" + +"Ah! that is a state secret." + +"But my father went to the Louvre, and I also, and the guards +said they did not know what we meant." + +"All the more reason that he should be there." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it, and if you wish to be so also----" + +"How?" + +"By seeing." + +"Can I?" + +"Certainly." + +"But if I go there, they win send me away, as they did before." + +"Would you like to go in?" + +"But if he is not there?" + +"I tell you he is there. Come; but they will not let in the wife +of St. Luc." + +"You laugh at me, and it is very cruel in my distress." + +"No, dear lady, listen. You are young, you are tall, and have +black eyes; you are like my youngest page, who looked so well +in the cloth of gold yesterday." + +"Ah I what folly, M. Bussy," cried Jeanne, blushing. + +"I have no other method but this. If you wish to see St. Luc----" + +"Oh! I would give all the world to see him." + +"Well, I promise that you shall without giving anything." + +"Oh, but----" + +"I told you how." + +"Well, I will do it; shall I send for the dress?" + +"No, I will send you a new one I have at home; then you must join +me this evening at the Rue St. Honore. and we will go together to +the Louvre." Jeanne began to laugh, and gave her hand to Bussy. + +"Pardon my suspicions," said she. + +"Willingly," and taking leave he went home to prepare. + +Bussy and Madame de St. Luc met at the appointed time; Jeanne +looked beautiful in her disguise. At the end of the Rue St. +Germain-l'Auxerrois they met a large party in which Bussy recognized +the Duc d'Anjou and his train. + +"Ah," said he, "we will make a triumphal entry into the Louvre." + +"Eh! monseigneur," cried he to the duke. + +The prince turned. "You, Bussy!" cried he joyfully, "I heard you +were badly wounded, and I was going to your hotel." + +"Ma foi, monseigneur, if I am not dead, it is thanks to no one +but myself. You get me into nice situations; that ball at St. +Luc's was a regular snare, and they have nearly drained all the +blood out of my body." + +"They shall pay for it, Bussy; they shall pay dearly." + +"Yes, you say so," said Bussy, with his usual liberty, "and you +will smile on the first you meet." + +"Well! accompany me to the Louvre, and you shall see." + +"What shall I see, monseigneur?" + +"How I will speak to my brother." + +"You promise me reparation?" + +"I promise you shall be content. You hesitate still, I believe." + +"Monseigneur, I know you so well." + +"Come, I tell you." + +"This is good for you," whispered Bussy to Jeanne. "There will +be a quarrel between the brothers, and meanwhile you can find +St. Luc." + +"Well," said he to the prince, "I follow you; if I am insulted, +at least I can always revenge myself." + +And he took his place near the duke, while his page kept close +to him. + +"Revenge yourself; no, Bussy," said the prince, "I charge myself +with it. I know your assassins," added he, in a low tone. + +"What! your highness has taken the trouble to inquire?" + +"I saw them." + +"How so?" cried Bussy, astonished. + +"Oh! I had business myself at the Porte St. Antoine. They barely +missed killing me in your place. Ah! I did not know it was you +they were waiting for, or else----" + +"Well?" + +"Had you this new page with you?" asked the prince, without finishing +his sentence. + +"No, I was alone, and you?" + +"I had Aurilly with me; and why were you alone?" + +"Because I wish to preserve my name of the brave Bussy." + +"And they wounded you?" + +"I do not wish to give them the pleasure of knowing it, but I +had a severe wound in the side." + +"Ah! the wretches; Aurilly said he was sure they were bent on +mischief." + +"How! you saw the ambush, you were with Aurilly, who uses his +sword as well as his lute, you thought they had bad intentions, +and you did not watch to give aid?" + +"I did not know who they were waiting for." + +"Mort diable! when you saw the king's friends, you might have +known it was against some friends of yours. Now, as there is +hardly any one but myself who has courage to be your friend, you +might have guessed that it was I." + +"Oh! perhaps you are right, my dear Bussy, but I did not think +of all that." + +When they entered, "Remember your promise," said Bussy, "I have +some one to speak to." + +"You leave me, Bussy?" + +"Yes, I must, but if I hear a great noise I will come to you, +so speak loud." + +Then Bussy, followed by Jeanne, took a secret staircase, traversed +two or three corridors, and arrived at an antechamber. + +"Wait here for me," said he to Jeanne. + +"Ah, mon Dieu! you leave me alone." + +"I must, to provide for your entrance." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +HOW MADAME DE ST. LUC PASSED THE SECOND NIGHT OF HER MARRIAGE. + +Bussy went straight to the sleeping-room of the king. There were +in it two beds of velvet and satin, pictures, relics, perfumed +sachets from the East, and a collection of beautiful swords. +Bussy knew the king was not there, as his brother had asked to +see him, but he knew that there was next to it a little room +which was occupied in turn by all the king's favorites, and which +he now expected to find occupied by St. Luc, whom the king in his +great affection had carried off from his wife. Bussy knocked +at the antechamber common to the two rooms. The captain of the +guards opened. + +"M. de Bussy!" cried he. + +"Yes, myself, dear M. de Nancey; the king wishes to speak to M. +de St. Luc." + +"Very well, tell M. de St. Luc the king wants him." + +"What is he doing?" + +"He is with Chicot, waiting for the king's return from his brother." + +"Will you permit my page to wait here?" + +"Willingly, monsieur." + +"Enter, Jean," said Bussy, and he pointed to the embrasure of +a window, where she went to hide herself. St. Luc entered, and +M. de Nancey retired. + +"What does the king want now?" cried St. Luc, angrily; "ah! it +is you, M. de Bussy." + +"I, and before everything, let me thank you for the service you +rendered me." + +"Ah! it was quite natural; I could not bear to see a brave gentleman +assassinated: I thought you killed." + +"It did not want much to do it, but I got off with a wound, which +I think I repaid with interest to Schomberg and D'Epernon. As +for Quelus, he may thank the bones of his head: they are the +hardest I ever knew." + +"Ah! tell me about it, it will amuse me a little." + +"I have no time now, I come for something else. You are ennuye----" + +"To death." + +"And a prisoner?" + +"Completely. The king pretends no one can amuse him but me. He +is very good, for since yesterday I have made more grimaces than +his ape, and been more rude than his jester." + +"Well, it is my turn to render you a service: can I do it?" + +"Yes, go to the Marshal de Brissac's, and reassure my poor little +wife, who must be very uneasy, and must think my conduct very +strange." + +"What shall I say to her?" + +"Morbleu! tell her what you see; that I am a prisoner, and that +the king talks to me of friendship like Cicero, who wrote on it; +and of virtue like Socrates, who practised it. It is in vain +I tell him I am ungrateful for the first, and incredulous as +to the last: he only repeats it over again." + +"Is that all I can do for you?" + +"Ah, mon Dieu! I fear so." + +"Then it is done." + +"How so?" + +"I guessed all this, and told your wife so." + +"And what did she say?" + +"At first she would not believe; but I trust now," continued +he, glancing towards the window, "she will yield to evidence. +Ask me something more difficult." + +"Then, bring here the griffin of Signor Astolfo, and let me mount +en croupe, and go to my wife." + +"A more simple thing would be to take the griffin to your wife +and bring her here." + +"Here!" + +"Yes, here." + +"To the Louvre, that would be droll." + +"I should think so. Then you would be ennuye no longer?" + +"Ma foi! no, but if this goes on much longer, I believe I shall +kill myself." + +"Well! shall I give you my page?" + +"To me?" + +"Yes, he is a wonderful lad." + +"Thank you, but I detest pages." + +"Bah! try him." + +"Bussy, you mock me." + +"Let me leave him." + +"No." + +"I tell you, you will like him." + +"No, no, a hundred times, no." + +"Hola, page, come here." + +Jeanne came forward, blushing. + +"Oh!" cried St. Luc, recognizing her, in astonishment. + +"Well! shall I send him away?" + +"No, no. Ah Bussy, I owe you an eternal friendship." + +"Take care, you cannot be heard, but you can be seen." + +"It is true," said St. Luc, retreating from his wife. Indeed, +M. de Nancey was beginning to wonder what was going on, when +a great noise was heard from the gallery. + +"Ah! mon Dieu!" cried M. de Nancey, "there is the king quarreling +with some one." + +"I really think so," replied Bussy, affecting inquietude; "can +it be with the Duc d'Anjou, who came with me?" + +The captain of the guard went off in the direction of the gallery. + +"Have I not managed well?" said Bussy to St. Luc. + +"What is it?" + +"M. d'Anjou and the king are quarrelling; I must go to them. You +profit by the time to place in safety the page I have brought +you; is it possible?" + +"Oh, yes; luckily I declared I was ill and must keep my room." + +"In that case, adieu, madame, and remember me in your prayers." +And Bussy went off to the gallery, where the king, red with fury, +swore to the duke, who was pale with anger, that in the scene +of the preceding night Bussy was the aggressor. + +"I affirm to you, sire," cried the duke, "that D'Epernon, Schomberg +and Quelus were waiting for him at the Hotel des Tournelles." + +"Who told you so?" + +"I saw them with my own eyes." + +"In that darkness! The night was pitch dark." + +"I knew their voices." + +"They spoke to you?" + +"They did more, they took me for Bussy, and attacked me." + +"You?" + +"Yes, I." + +"And what were you doing there?" + +"What does that matter to you?" + +"I wish to know; I am curious to-day." + +"I was going to Manasses." + +"A Jew?" + +"You go to Ruggieri, a poisoner." + +"I go where I like: I am the king. Besides, as I said, Bussy was +the aggressor." + +"Where?" + +"At St. Luc's ball." + +"Bussy provoked five men? No, no, he is brave, but he is not mad." + +"Par la mordieu! I tell you I heard him. Besides, he has wounded +Schomberg in the thigh, D'Epernon in the arm, and half killed +Quelus." + +"Ah! really I did not know; I compliment him on it." + +"I will make example of this brawler." + +"And I, whom your friends attack, in his person and in my own, +will know if I am your brother, and if----" + +At this moment Bussy, dressed in pale-green satin, entered the +room. + +"Sire!" said he, "receive my humble respects." + +"Pardieu! here he is," cried Henri. + +"Your majesty, it seems, was doing me the honor of speaking of +me." + +"Yes, and I am glad to see that, in spite of what they told me, +your look shows good health." + +"Sire, blood drawn improves the complexion, so mine ought to be +good this morning." + +"Well, since they have wounded you, complain, and I will do you +justice." + +"I complain of nothing, sire." + +Henri looked astonished. "What did you say?" said he to the duke. + +"I said that Bussy had received a wound in his side." + +"Is it true, Bussy?" + +"The first prince of the blood would not lie, sire." + +"And yet you do not complain?" + +"I shall never complain, sire, until they cut off my right-hand, +and prevent my revenging myself, and then I will try to do it +with the left." + +"Insolent," murmured Henri. + +"Sire," said the duke, "do justice; we ask no better. Order an +inquiry, name judges, and let it be proved who prepared the ambush +and the intended murder." + +Henri reddened. "No," said he, "I prefer this time to be ignorant +where the wrong lies, and to pardon everyone. I wish these enemies +to make peace, and I am sorry that Schomberg and D'Epernon are +kept at home by their wounds. Say, M. d'Anjou, which do you call +the most forward to fight of all my friends, as you say you saw +them?" + +"Sire, it was Quelus." + +"Ma foi! yes," said Quelus, "his highness is right." + +"Then," said Henri, "let MM. Bussy and Quelus make peace in the +name of all." + +"Oh! Oh!" said Quelus, "what does that mean, sire?" + +"It means that you are to embrace here, before me." Quelus frowned. + +"Ah, signor," cried Bussy, imitating a pantaloon, "will you not +do me this favor?" + +Even the king laughed. Then, approaching Quelus, Bussy threw his +arms round his neck, saying, "The king wishes it." + +"I hope it engages us to nothing," whispered Quelus. + +"Be easy," answered Bussy, "we will meet soon." + +Quelus drew back in a rage, and Bussy, making a pirouette, went +out of the gallery. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +LE PETIT COUCHER OF HENRI III. + +After this scene, beginning in tragedy and ending in comedy, +the king, still angry, went to his room, followed by Chicot, who +asked for his supper. + +"I am not hungry," said the king. + +"It is possible, but I am." + +The king did not seem to hear. He unclasped his cloak, took off +his cap, and, advancing to the passage which led to St. Luc's +room, said to Chicot, "Wait here for me till I return." + +"Oh! do not be in a hurry," said Chicot. No sooner was the king +gone, than Chicot opened the door and called "Hola!" + +A valet came. "The king has changed his mind," said Chicot, "he +wishes a good supper here for himself and St. Luc, above all, +plenty of wine, and despatch." + +The valet went to execute the orders, which he believed to be +the king's. Henri meanwhile had passed into St. Luc's room. He +found him in bed, having prayers read to him by an old servant +who had followed him to the Louvre, and shared his captivity. +In a corner, on an armchair, his head buried in his hands, slept +the page. + +"Who is that young man?" asked the king. + +"Did not your majesty authorize me to send for a page." + +"Yes, doubtless." + +"Well, I have profited by it." + +"Oh!" + +"Does your majesty repent of having allowed me this little +indulgence?" + +"No, no, on the contrary, amuse yourself, my son. How are you?" + +"Sire, I have a fever." + +"Really, your face is red; let me feel your pulse, I am half a +doctor." + +St. Luc held out his hand with visible ill-humor. + +"Oh!" said the king, "intermittent--agitated." + +"Yes, sire, I am very ill." + +"I will send you my doctor." + +"Thank you, sire, but I hate Miron." + +"I will watch you myself. You shall have a bed in my room, and +we will talk all night." + +"Oh!" cried St Luc, "you see me ill, and you want to keep me from +sleeping. That is a singular way to treat your patient, doctor." + +"But you cannot be left alone, suffering as you are." + +"Sire, I have my page, Jean." + +"But he sleeps." + +"That is what I like best, then he will not disturb me." + +"Well, come and assist at my going to bed." + +"Then I shall be free to come back to bed?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Well, so be it. But I shall make a bad courtier, I assure you; +I am dying with sleep." + +"You shall yawn at your ease." + +"Sire, if your majesty will leave me, I will be with you in five +minutes." + +"Well, then, five minutes, but no longer." + +As soon as the door was shut, the page jumped up. "Ah! St. Luc," +cried she, "you are going to leave me again. Mon Dieu! I shall +die of fright here, if they discover me." + +"My dear Jeanne, Gaspard here will protect you." + +"Had I not better go back?" + +"If you really wish it, Jeanne," said St. Luc, sadly, "you shall. +But if you are as good as you are beautiful, if you have any +feeling in your heart for me, you will wait here a little. I +shall suffer so much from my head and nerves that the king will +not long keep so sad a companion." + +"Go, then," said Jeanne, "and I will wait." + +"My dear Jeanne, you are adorable. Trust me to returns as soon +as possible, Besides, I have an idea, which I will tell you when +I return." + +"An idea which will restore your liberty?" + +"I hope so." + +"Then go," + +"Gaspard," said St. Luc, "prevent any one from entering here, +and in a quarter of an hour lock the door, and bring me the key +to the king's room. Then go home, and tell them not to be uneasy +about Madame la Comtesse, and come back to-morrow." + +Then St. Luc kissed his wife's hand, and went to the king, who +was already growing impatient. Jeanne, alone and trembling, hid +behind the curtains of the bed. When St. Luc entered he found +the king amidst a perfect carpet of flowers, of which the stalks +had been cut off-roses, jasmine, violets, and wall-flowers, in +spite of the severe weather, formed an odorous carpet for Henry +III. The chamber, of which the roof was painted, had in it two +beds, one of which was so large as to occupy a third of the room. +It was hung with gold and silk tapestry, representing mythological +figures and the windows had curtains to match. From the center +of the ceiling hung, suspended by a golden chain, a silver gilt +lamp, in which burned a perfumed oil. At the side of the bed was +a golden satyr, holding in his hand a candelabrum, containing +four rose-color wax candles, also perfumed. + +The king, with his naked feet resting on the flowers, was seated +on a chair of ebony inlaid with gold; he had on his knees seven +or eight young spaniels, who were licking his bands. Two servants +were curling his hair, his mustachios, and beard, a third was +covering his face with a kind of cream, which had a most delightful +scent. + +"Here," cried Chicot, "the grease and the combs, I will try them +too." + +"Chicot," said Henri, "your skin is too dry, and will use too +much cream, and your beard is so hard, it will break my combs. +Well, my son," said he, turning to St. Luc, "how is your head?" + +St. Luc put his hand to his head and groaned. + +"Imagine!" continued Henri, "I have seen Bussy d'Amboise." + +"Bussy!" cried St. Luc, trembling. + +"Yes, those fools! five of them attacked him, and let him escape. +If you had been there, St. Luc----" + +"I should probably have been like the others." + +"Oh! no, I wager you are as good as Bussy. We will try to-morrow." + +"Sire, I am too ill for anything." + +Henri, hearing a singular noise, turned round, and saw Chicot +eating up all the supper that had been brought for two. + +"What the devil are you doing, M. Chicot?" cried Henri. + +"Taking my cream internally, since you will not allow me to do +it outwardly." + +"Go and fetch my captain of the guards," said Henri. + +"What for?" asked Chicot, emptying a porcelain cup of chocolate. + +"To pass his sword through your body." + +"Ah! let him come, we shall see!" cried Chicot, putting himself +in such a comical attitude of defense that every one laughed. + +"But I am hungry," cried the king; "and the wretch has eaten up +all the supper." + +"You are capricious, Henri; I offered you supper and you refused. +However, your bouillon is left; I am no longer hungry, and I am +going to bed." + +"And I also," said St. Luc, "for I can stand no longer." + +"Stay, St. Luc," said the king, "take these," and he offered him +a handful of little dogs. + +"What for?" + +"To sleep with you; they will take your illness from you." + +"Thanks, sire," said St. Luc, putting them back in their basket, +"but I have no confidence in your receipt." + +"I will come and visit you in the night, St. Luc." + +"Pray do not, sire, you will only disturb me," and saluting the +king, he went away. Chicot had already disappeared, and there +only remained with the king the valets, who covered his face +with a mask of fine cloth, plastered with the perfumed cream, +in which were holes for the eyes, nose, and mouth; a cap of silk +and silver fixed it on the forehead and ears. They next covered +his arms with sleeves made of wadded silk, and then presented +him with kid gloves, also greased inside. + +These mysteries of the royal toilet finished, they presented to +him his soup in a golden cup. Then Henri said a prayer, a short +one that night, and went to bed. + +When settled there, he ordered them to carry away the flowers, +which were beginning to make the air sickly, and to open the +window for a moment. Then the valet closed the doors and curtains, +and called in Narcissus, the king's favorite dog, who, jumping on +the bed, settled himself at once on the king's feet. The valet +next put out the wax-lights, lowered the lamp, and went out softly. + +Already, more tranquil and nonchalant than the lazy monks of +his kingdom in their fat abbeys, the King of France no longer +remembered that there was a France.--He slept. + +Every noise was hushed, and one might have heard a bat fly in +the somber corridors of the Louvre. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HOW, WITHOUT ANY ONE KNOWING WHY, THE KING WAS CONVERTED BEFORE +THE NEXT DAY. + +Three hours passed thus. + +Suddenly, a terrible cry was heard, which came from the king's +room. + +All the lights in his room were out, and no sound was to be heard +except this strange call of the king's. For it was he who had +cried. + +Soon was heard the noise of furniture falling, porcelain breaking, +steps running about the room, and the barking of dogs-mingled +with new cries. Almost instantly lights burned, swords shone +in the galleries, and the heavy steps of the Guards were heard. + +"To arms!" cried all, "the king calls." + +And the captain of the guard, the colonel of the Swiss, and some +attendants, rushed into the king's room with flambeaux. + +Near an overturned chair, broken cups, and disordered bed, stood +Henri, looking terrified and grotesque in his night-dress. His +right hand was extended, trembling like a leaf in the wind, and +his left held his sword, which he had seized mechanically. + +He appeared dumb through terror, and all the spectators, not daring +to break the silence, waited with the utmost anxiety. + +Then appeared, half dressed and wrapped in a large cloak, the +young queen, Louise de Lorraine, blonde and gentle, who led the +life of a saint upon earth, and who had been awakened by her +husband's cries. + +"Sire," cried she, also trembling, "what is the matter? Mon Dieu! +I heard your cries, and I came." + +"It--it is nothing," said the king, without moving his eyes, +which seemed to be looking up the air for some form invisible +to all but him. + +"But your majesty cried out; is your majesty suffering?" asked +the queen. + +Terror was so visibly painted on the king's countenance, that +it began to gain on the others. + +"Oh, sire!" cried the queen again, "in Heaven's name do not leave +us in this suspense. Will you have a doctor?" + +"A doctor, no," cried Henri, in the same tone, "the body is not +ill, it is the mind; no doctor--a confessor." + +Everyone looked round; nowhere was there to be seen any traces +of what had so terrified the king. However, a confessor was sent +for; Joseph Foulon, superior of the convent of St. Genevieve, +was torn from his bed, to come to the king. With the confessor, +the tumult ceased, and silence was reestablished; everyone +conjectured and wondered--the king was confessing. + +The next day the king rose early, and began to read prayers then +he ordered all his friends to be sent for. They sent to St. Luc, +but he was more suffering than ever. His sleep, or rather his +lethargy, had been so profound, that he alone had heard nothing +of the tumult in the night, although he slept so near. He begged +to be left in bed. At this deplorable recital, Henri crossed +himself, and sent him a doctor. + +Then he ordered that all the scourges from the convent should +be brought to him, and, going to his friends, distributed them, +ordering them to scourge each other as hard as they could. + +D'Epernon said that as his right arm was in a sling, and he could +not return the blows he received, he ought to be exempt, but the +king replied that that would only make it the more acceptable +to God. + +He himself set the example. He took off his doublet, waistcoat, +and shirt, and struck himself like a martyr. Chicot tried to +laugh, as usual, but was warned by a terrible look, that this +was not the right time, and he was forced to take a scourge like +the others. + +All at once the king left the room, telling them to wait for him. +Immediately the blows ceased, only Chicot continued to strike +D'O, whom he hated, and D'O returned it as well as he could. It +was a duel with whips. + +The king went to the queen, gave her a pearl necklace worth 25,000 +crowns, and kissed her, which he had not done for a year. Then +he asked her to put off her royal ornaments and put on a sack. + +Louise, always good, consented, but asked why her husband gave +her a necklace, and yet made such a request. + +"For my sins," replied he. + +The queen said no more, for she knew, better than any one, how +many he had to repent of. + +Henri returned, which was a signal for the flagellation to +recommence. In ten minutes the queen arrived, with her sack on +her shoulders. Then tapers were distributed to all the court, and +barefooted, through the snow, all the courtiers and fine ladies +went to Montmartre, shivering. At five o'clock the promenade was +over, the convents had received rich presents, the feet of all +the court were swollen, and the backs of the courtiers sore. There +had been tears, cries, prayers, incense, and psalms. Everyone +had suffered, without knowing why the king, who danced the night +before, scourged himself to-day. As for Chicot, he had escaped at +the Porte Montmartre, and, with Brother Gorenflot, had entered a +public-house, where he had eaten and drank. Then he had rejoined +the procession and returned to the Louvre. + +In the evening the king, fatigued with his fast and his exercise, +ordered himself a light supper, had his shoulders washed, and +then went to visit St. Luc. + +"Ah!" cried he, "God has done well to render life so bitter." + +"Why so, sire?" + +"Because then man, instead of fearing death, longs for it." + +"Speak for yourself, sire, I do not long for it at all." + +"Listen, St. Luc, will you follow my example?" + +"If I think it a good one." + +"I will leave my throne, and you your wife, and we will enter +a cloister. I will call myself Brother Henri----" + +"Pardon, sire, if you do not care for your crown, of which you +are tired, I care very much for my wife, whom I know so little. +Therefore I refuse." + +"Oh! you are better." + +"Infinitely better, sire; I feel quite joyous, and disposed for +happiness and pleasure." + +"Poor St. Luc!" cried the king, clasping his hands. + +"You should have asked me yesterday, sire, then I was ill and +cross. I would have thrown myself into a well for a trifle. But +this evening it is quite a different thing. I have passed a good +night and a charming day. Mordieu, vive la joie!" + +"You swear, St. Luc." + +"Did I, sire? but I think you swear sometimes." + +"I have sworn, St. Luc, but I shall swear no more." + +"I cannot say that; I will not swear more than I can help, and +God is merciful." + +"You think he will pardon me?" + +"Oh! I speak for myself, not for you, sire. You have sinned as a +king, I as a private man, and we shall, I trust, be differently +judged." + +The king sighed. "St. Luc," said he, "will you pass the night +in my room?" + +"Why, what should we do?" + +"We will light all the lamps, I will go to bed, and you shall +read prayers to me." + +"No, thank you, sire." + +"You will not?" + +"On no account." + +"You abandon me, St. Luc!" + +"No, I will stay with your majesty, if you will send for music +and ladies, and have a dance." + +"Oh, St. Luc, St. Luc!" + +"I am wild to-night, sire, I want to dance and drink." + +"St. Luc," said the king, solemnly, "do you ever dream?" + +"Often, sire." + +"You believe in dreams?" + +"With reason." + +"How so?" + +"Dreams console for the reality. Last night I had a charming dream." + +"What was it?" + +"I dreamed that my wife----" + +"You still think of your wife?" + +"More than ever, sire; well, I dreamed that she, with her charming +face--for she is pretty, sire----" + +"So was Eve, who ruined us all." + +"Well, my wife had procured wings and the form of a bird, and +so, braving locks and bolts, she passed over the walls of the +Louvre, and came to my window, crying, 'Open, St. Luc, open, +my husband.'" + +"And you opened?" + +"I should think so." + +"Worldly." + +"As you please, sire." + +"Then you woke?" + +"No, indeed, the dream was too charming; and I hope to-night to +dream again; therefore I refuse your majesty's obliging offer. +If I sit up, let me at least have something to pay me for losing +my dream. If your majesty will do as I said----" + +"Enough, St. Luc. I trust Heaven will send you a dream to-night +which will lead you to repentance." + +"I doubt it, sire, and I advise you to send away this libertine +St. Luc, who is resolved not to amend." + +"No, no, I hope, before to-morrow, grace will have touched you +as it has me. Good night, I will pray for you." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +HOW THE KING WAS AFRAID OF BEING AFRAID. + +When the king left St. Luc, he found the court, according to +his orders, in the great gallery. Then he gave D'O, D'Epernon +and Schomberg an order to retire into the provinces, threatened +Quelus and Maugiron to punish them if they quarreled anymore +with Bussy, to whom he gave his hand to kiss, and then embraced +his brother Francois. + +As for the queen, he was prodigal in politeness to her. + +When the usual time for retiring approached, the king seemed trying +to retard it. At last ten o'clock struck. + +"Come with me, Chicot," then said he, "good night, gentlemen." + +"Good night, gentlemen," said Chicot, "we are going to bed. I +want my barber, my hairdresser, my valet de chambre, and, above +all, my cream." + +"No," said the king, "I want none of them to-night; Lent is going +to begin." + +"I regret the cream," said Chicot. + +The king and Chicot entered the room, which we already know. + +"Ah ca! Henri," said Chicot, "I am the favorite to-night. Am I +handsomer than that Cupid, Quelus?" + +"Silence, Chicot, and you, gentlemen of the toilette, go out." + +They obeyed, and the king and Chicot were left alone. + +"Why do you send them away?" asked Chicot, "they have not greased +us yet. Are you going to grease me with your own royal hand? It +would be an act of humility." + +"Let us pray," said Henri. + +"Thank you, that is not amusing. If that be what you called me +here for, I prefer to return to the bad company I have left. +Adieu, my son. Good night." + +"Stay," said the king. + +"Oh! this is tyranny. You are a despot, a Phalaris, a Dionysius. +All day you have made me tear the shoulders of my friends with +cow-hide, and now we are to begin again. Do not let us do it, +Henri, when there's but two, every blow tells." + +"Hold your tongue, miserable chatterer, and think of repentance." + +"I repent! And of what? Of being jester to a monk. Confiteor--I +repent, mea culpa, it is a great sin." + +"No sacrilege, wretch." + +"Ah! I would rather he shut up in a cage with lions and apes, +than with a mad king. Adieu, I am going." + +The king locked the door. + +"Henri, you look sinister; if you do not let me go, I will cry, +I will call, I will break the window, I will kick down the door." + +"Chicot," said the king, in a melancholy tone, "you abuse my +sadness." + +"Ah! I understand, you are afraid to be alone. Tyrants always +are so. Take my long sword, and let me take the scabbard to my +room." + +At the word "afraid," Henri shuddered, and he looked nervously +around, and seemed so agitated and grew so pale, that Chicot +began to think him really ill, and said,-- + +"Come, my son, what is the matter, tell your troubles to your +friend Chicot." + +The king looked at him and said, "Yes, you are my friend, my only +friend." + +"There is," said Chicot, "the abbey of Valency vacant." + +"Listen, Chicot, you are discreet." + +"There is also that of Pithiviers, where they make such good pies." + +"In spite of your buffooneries, you are a brave man." + +"Then do not give me an abbey, give me a regiment." + +"And even a wise one." + +"Then do not give me a regiment, make me a counselor; but no, +when I think of it, I should prefer a regiment, for I should +be always forced to be of the king's opinion." + +"Hold your tongue, Chicot, the terrible hour approaches." + +"Ah! you are beginning again." + +"You will hear." + +"Hear what?" + +"Wait, and the event will show you. Chicot, you are brave!" + +"I boast of it, but I do not wish to try. Call your captain of +the guard, your Swiss, and let me go away from this invisible +danger." + +"Chicot, I command you to stay." + +"On my word, a nice master. I am afraid, I tell you. Help!" + +"Well, drole, if I must, I will tell you all." + +"Ah!" cried Chicot, drawing his sword, "once warned, I do not +care; tell, my son, tell. Is it a crocodile? my sword is sharp, +for I use it every week to cut my corns." And Chicot sat down +in the armchair with his drawn sword between his legs. + +"Last night," said Henri, "I slept----" + +"And I also," said Chicot. + +"Suddenly a breath swept over my face." + +"It was the dog, who was hungry, and who licked your cream." + +"I half woke, and felt my beard bristle with terror under my mask." + +"Ah! you make me tremble deliciously." + +"Then," continued the king, in a trembling voice, "then a voice +sounded through the room, with a doleful vibration." + +"The voice of the crocodile! I have read in Marco Polo, that +the crocodile has a voice like the crying of children; but be +easy, my son, for if it comes, we will kill it." + +"'Listen! miserable sinner,' said the voice----" + +"Oh! it spoke; then it was not a crocodile." + +"'Miserable sinner,' said the voice, 'I am the angel of God.'" + +"The angel of God!" + +"Ah! Chicot, it was a frightful voice." + +"Was it like the sound of a trumpet?" + +"'Are you there?' continued the voice, 'do you hear, hardened +sinner; are you determined to persevere in your iniquities?'" + +"Ah, really; he said very much the same as other people, it seems +to me." + +"Then, Chicot, followed many other reproaches, which I assure +you were most painful." + +"But tell me what he said, that I may see if he was well informed?" + +"Impious! do you doubt?" + +"I? all that astonishes me is, that he waited so long to reproach +you. So, my son, you were dreadfully afraid?" + +"Oh, yes, the marrow seemed to dry in my bones." + +"It is quite natural; on my word, I do not know what I should +have done in your place. And then you called?" + +"Yes." + +"And they came?" + +"Yes." + +"And there was no one here?" + +"No one." + +"It is frightful." + +"So frightful, that I sent for my confessor." + +"And he came?" + +"Immediately." + +"Now, be frank, my son; tell the truth for once. What did he +think of your revelation?" + +"He shuddered." + +"I should think so." + +"He ordered me to repent, as the voice told me." + +"Very well. There can be no harm in repenting. But what did he +think of the vision?" + +"That it was a miracle, and that I must think of it seriously. +Therefore, this morning----" + +"What have you done?" + +"I gave 100,000 livres to the Jesuits." + +"Very well." + +"And scourged myself and my friends." + +"Perfect! but after?" + +"Well, what do you think of it, Chicot? It is not to the jester +I speak, but to the man of sense, to my friend." + +"Ah, sire, I think your majesty had the nightmare." + +"You think so?" + +"Yes, it was a dream, which will not be renewed, unless your majesty +thinks too much about it." + +"A dream? No, Chicot, I was awake, my eyes were open." + +"I sleep like that." + +"Yes, but then you do not see, and I saw the moon shining through +my windows, and its light on the amethyst in the hilt of my sword, +which lay in that chair where you are." + +"And the lamp?" + +"Had gone out." + +"A dream, my son." + +"Why do you not believe, Chicot? It is said that God speaks to +kings, when He wishes to effect some change on the earth." + +"Yes, he speaks, but so low that they never hear Him." + +"Well, do you know why I made you stay?--that you might hear as +well as I." + +"No one would believe me if I said I heard it." + +"My friend, it is a secret which I confide to your known fidelity." + +"Well, I accept. Perhaps it will also speak to me." + +"Well, what must I do?" + +"Go to bed, my son." + +"But----" + +"Do you think that sitting up will keep it away?" + +"Well, then, you remain." + +"I said so." + +"Well, then, I will go to bed." + +"Good." + +"But you will not?" + +"Certainly not, I will stay here." + +"You will not go to sleep?" + +"Oh, that I cannot promise; sleep is like fear, my son, a thing +independent of will." + +"You will try, at least?" + +"Be easy; I will pinch myself. Besides, the voice would wake me." + +"Do not joke about the voice." + +"Well, well, go to bed." + +The king sighed, looked round anxiously, and glided tremblingly +into bed. Then Chicot established him in his chair, arranging +round him the pillows and cushions. + +"How do you feel, sire?" said he. + +"Pretty well; and you?" + +"Very well; good night, Henri." + +"Good night, Chicot; do not go to sleep." + +"Of course not," said Chicot, yawning fit to break his jaws. + +And they both closed their eyes, the king to pretend to sleep, +Chicot to sleep really. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +HOW THE ANGEL MADE A MISTAKE AND SPOKE TO CHICOT, THINKING IT +WAS THE KING. + +The king and Chicot remained thus for some time. All at once the +king jumped up in his bed. Chicot woke at the noise. + +"What is it?" asked he in a low voice. + +"The breath on my face." + +As he spoke, one of the wax lights went out, then the other, +and the rest followed. Then the lamp also went out, and the room +was lighted only by the rays of the moon. At the same moment +they heard a hollow voice, saying, apparently from the end of +the room,-- + +"Hardened sinner, art thou there?" + +"Yes," said Henri, with chattering teeth. + +"Oh!" thought Chicot, "that is a very hoarse voice to come from +heaven; nevertheless, it is dreadful." + +"Do you hear?" asked the voice. + +"Yes, and I am bowed down to the earth." + +"Do you believe you obeyed me by all the exterior mummeries which +you performed yesterday, without your heart being touched?" + +"Very well said," thought Chicot. He approached the king softly. + +"Do you believe now?" asked the king, with clasped hands. + +"Wait." + +"What for?" + +"Hush! leave your bed quietly, and let me get in." + +"Why?" + +"That the anger of the Lord may fall first on me." + +"Do you think He will spare me for that?" + +"Let us try," and he pushed the king gently out and got into his +place. + +"Now, go to my chair, and leave all to me." + +Henri obeyed; he began to understand. + +"You do not reply," said the voice; "you are hardened in sin." + +"Oh! pardon! pardon!" cried Chicot, imitating the king's voice. +Then he whispered to Henri, "It is droll that the angel does +not know me." + +"What can it mean?" + +"Wait." + +"Wretch!" said the voice. + +"Yes, I confess," said Chicot; "I am a hardened sinner, a dreadful +sinner." + +"Then acknowledge your crimes, and repent." + +"I acknowledge to have been a great traitor to my cousin Conde, +whose wife I seduced." + +"Oh! hush," said the king, "that is so long ago." + +"I acknowledge," continued Chicot, "to have been a great rogue +to the Poles, who chose me for king, and whom I abandoned one +night, carrying away the crown jewels. I repent of this." + +"Ah!" whispered Henri again: "that is all forgotten." + +"Hush! let me speak." + +"Go on," said the voice. + +"I acknowledge having stolen the crown from my brother D'Alencon, +to whom it belonged of right, as I had formerly renounced it on +accepting the crown of Poland." + +"Knave!" said the king. + +"Go on," said the voice. + +"I acknowledge having joined my mother, to chase from France +my brother-in-law, the King of Navarre, after having destroyed +all his friends." + +"Ah!" whispered the king, angrily. + +"Sire, do not let us offend God, by trying to hide what He knows +as well as we do." + +"Leave politics," said the voice. + +"Ah!" cried Chicot, with a doleful voice, "is it my private life +I am to speak of?" + +"Yes." + +"I acknowledge, then, that I am effeminate, idle, and hypocritical." + +"It is true." + +"I have ill-treated my wife--such a worthy woman." + +"One ought to love one's wife as one's self, and prefer her to +all things," said the voice, angrily. + +"Ah!" cried Chicot, "then I have sinned deeply." + +"And you have made others sin by your example." + +"It is true." + +"Especially that poor St. Luc; and if you do not send him home +to-morrow to his wife, there will be no pardon for you." + +"Ah!" said Chicot to the king, "the voice seems to be friendly +to the house of Cosse." + +"And you must make him a duke, to recompense him for his forced +stay." + +"Peste!" said Chicot; "the angel is much interested for M. de +St. Luc." + +"Oh!" cried the king, without listening, "this voice from on high +will kill me." + +"Voice from the side, you mean," said Chicot. + +"How! a voice from the side?" + +"Yes; can you not hear that the voice comes from that wall, +Henri?--the angel lodges in the Louvre." + +"Blasphemer!" + +"Why, it is honorable for you; but you do not seem to recognize +it. Go and visit him; he is only separated from you by that +partition." + +A ray of the moon falling on Chicot's face, showed it to the +king so laughing and amused, that he said, "What! you dare to +laugh?" + +"Yes, and so will you in a minute. Be reasonable, and do as I +tell you. Go and see if the angel be not in the next room." + +"But if he speak again?" + +"Well, I am here to answer. He is vastly credulous. For the last +quarter of an hour I have been talking, and he has not recognized +me. It is not clever!" + +Henri frowned. "I begin to believe you are right, Chicot," said +he. + +"Go, then." + +Henri opened softly the door which led into the corridor. He +had scarcely entered it, when he heard the voice redoubling its +reproaches, and Chicot replying. + +"Yes," said the voice, "you are as inconstant as a woman, as soft +as a Sybarite, as irreligious as a heathen." + +"Oh!" whined Chicot, "is it my fault if I have such a soft skin--such +white hands--such a changeable mind? But from to-day I will alter--I +will wear coarse linen----" + +However, as Henri advanced, he found that Chicot's voice grew +fainter, and the other louder, and that it seemed to come from +St. Luc's room, in which he could see a light. He stooped down +and peeped through the keyhole, and immediately grew pale with +anger. + +"Par la mordieu!" murmured he, "is it possible that they have +dared to play such a trick?" + +This is what he saw through the keyhole. St. Luc, in a dressing-gown, +was roaring through a tube the words which he had found so dreadful, +and beside him, leaning on his shoulder, was a lady in white, who +every now and then took the tube from him, and called through +something herself, while stifled bursts of laughter accompanied +each sentence of Chicot's, who continued to answer in a doleful +tone. + +"Jeanne de Cosse in St. Luc's room! A hole in the wall! such +a trick on me! Oh! they shall pay dearly for it!". And with a +vigorous kick he burst open the door. + +Jeanne rushed behind the curtains to hide herself, while St. +Luc, his face full of terror, fell on his knees before the king, +who was pale with rage. + +"Ah!" cried Chicot, from the bed, "Ah! mercy!--Holy Virgin! I +am dying!" + +Henri, seizing, in a transport of rage, the trumpet from the +hands of St. Luc, raised it as if to strike. But St. Luc jumped +up and cried-- + +"Sire, I am a gentleman; you have no right to strike me!" + +Henri dashed the trumpet violently on the ground. Some one picked +it up; it was Chicot, who, hearing the noise, judged that his +presence was necessary as a mediator. He ran to the curtain, +and, drawing out poor Jeanne, all trembling-- + +"Oh!" said he, "Adam and Eve after the Fall. You send them away, +Henri, do you not?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I will be the exterminating angel." + +And throwing himself between, the king and St. Luc, and waving +the trumpet over the heads of the guilty couple, said-- + +"This is my Paradise, which you have lost by your disobedience; +I forbid you to return to it." + +Then he whispered to St. Luc, who had his arm round his wife-- + +"If you have a good horse, kill it, but be twenty leagues from +here before to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +HOW BUSSY WENT TO SEEK FOR THE REALITY OF HIS DREAM. + +When Bussy returned home again, he was still thinking of his dream. + +"Morbleu!" said he, "it is impossible that a dream should have left +such a vivid impression on my mind. I see it all so clearly;--the +bed, the lady, the doctor. I must seek for it--surely I can find +it again." Then Bussy, after having the bandage of his wound +resettled by a valet, put on high boots, took his sword, wrapped +himself in his cloak, and set off for the same place where he had +been nearly murdered the night before, and nearly at the same +hour. + +He went in a litter to the Rue Roi-de-Sicile, then got out, and +told his servants to wait for him. It was about nine in the evening, +the curfew had sounded, and Paris was deserted. Bussy arrived +at the Bastile, then he sought for the place where his horse +had fallen, and thought he had found it; he next endeavored to +repeat his movements of the night before, retreated to the wall, +and examined every door to find the corner against which he had +leaned, but all the doors seemed alike. + +"Pardieu!" said he, "if I were to knock at each of these doors +question all the lodgers, spend a thousand crowns to make valets +and old women speak, I might learn what I want to know. There +are fifty houses; it would take me at least five nights." + +As he spoke, he perceived a small and trembling light approaching. + +This light advanced slowly, and irregularly, stopping occasionally, +moving on again, and going first to the right, then to the left, +then, for a minute, coming straight on, and again diverging. +Bussy leaned against a door, and waited. The light continued +to advance, and soon he could see a black figure, which, as it +advanced, took the form of a man, holding a lantern in his left +hand. He appeared to Bussy to belong to the honorable fraternity +of drunkards, for nothing else seemed to explain the eccentric +movements of the lantern. At last he slipped over a piece of +ice, and fell. Bussy was about to come forward and offer his +assistance, but the man and the lantern were quickly up again, +and advanced directly towards him, when he saw, to his great +surprise, that the man had a bandage over his eyes. "Well!" thought +he, "it is a strange thing to play at blind man's buff with a +lantern in your hand. Am I beginning to dream again? And, good +heavens! he is talking to himself. If he be not drunk or mad, +he is a mathematician." + +This last surmise was suggested by the words that Bussy heard. + +"488, 489, 490," murmured the man, "it must be near here." And +then he raised his bandage, and finding himself in front of a +house, examined it attentively. + +"No, it is not this," he said. Then, putting back his bandage, +he recommenced his walk and his calculations. "491, 492, 493, +494; I must be close." And he raised his bandage again, and, +approaching the door next to that against which Bussy was standing, +began again to examine. + +"Hum!" said he, "it might, but all these doors are so alike." + +"The same reflection I have just made," thought Bussy. + +However, the mathematician now advanced to the next door, and +going up to it, found himself face to face with Bussy. + +"Oh!" cried he, stepping back. + +"Oh!" cried Bussy. + +"It is not possible." + +"Yes; but it is extraordinary. You are the doctor?" + +"And you the gentleman?" + +"Just so." + +"Mon Dieu! how strange." + +"The doctor," continued Bussy, "who yesterday dressed a wound +for a gentleman?" + +"Yes, in the right side." + +"Exactly so. You had a gentle, light, and skilful hand." + +"Ah, sir, I did not expect to find you here." + +"But what were you looking for?" + +"The house." + +"Then you do not know it?" + +"How should I? They brought me here with my eyes bandaged." + +"Then you really came here?" + +"Either to this house or the next." + +"Then I did not dream?" + +"Dream?" + +"I confess I feared it was all a dream." + +"Ah! I fancied there was some mystery." + +"A mystery which you must help me to unravel." + +"Willingly." + +"What is your name?" + +"Monsieur, to such a question I ought, perhaps, to reply by looking +fierce, and saying, 'Yours, monsieur, if you please; but you have +a long sword, and I only a lancet; you seem to me a gentleman, +and I cannot appear so to you, for I am wet and dirty. Therefore, +I reply frankly: I am called Remy-le-Haudouin." + +"Very well, monsieur; I thank you. I am Louis de Clermont, Comte +de Bussy." + +"Bussy d'Amboise! the hero Bussy!" cried the young doctor, joyfully. +"What, monsieur, you are that famous Bussy----?" + +"I am Bussy," replied he. "And now, wet and dirty as you are, +will you satisfy my curiosity?" + +"The fact is," said the young man, "that I shall be obliged, +like Epaminondas the Theban, to stay two days at home, for I +have but one doublet and trousers. But, pardon, you did me the +honor to question me, I think?" + +"Yes, monsieur, I asked you how you came to this house?" + +"M. le Comte, this is how it happened; I lodge in the Rue +Beauheillis, 502 steps from here. I am a poor surgeon, not unskilful, +I hope." + +"I can answer for that." + +"And who has studied much, but without any patients. Seven or +eight days ago, a man having received behind the Arsenal a stab +with a knife, I sewed up the wound, and cured him. This made for +me some reputation in the neighborhood, to which I attribute +the happiness of having been last night awoke by a pretty voice." + +"A woman's?" + +"Yes, but, rustic as I am, I knew it to be the voice of a servant. +I know them well." + +"And what did you do?" + +"I rose and opened my door, but scarcely had I done so, when two +little hands, not very soft, but not very hard, put a bandage +over my eyes, without saying anything." + +"'Oh!' she said, 'come, do not try to see where you are going, +be discreet, here is your recompense;' and she placed in my hand +a purse." + +"Ah! and what did you say?" + +"That I was ready to follow my charming conductress. I did not +know if she were charming or not, but I thought that the epithet, +even if exaggerated, could do no harm." + +"And you asked no more?" + +"I had often read these kinds of histories in books, and I had +remarked that they always turned out well for the doctor. Therefore +I followed, and I counted 498 paces." + +"Good; then this must be the door." + +"It cannot be far off, at all events, unless she led me by some +detour, which I half suspect." + +"But did she pronounce no name?" + +"None." + +"But you remarked something?" + +"All that one could with one's fingers, a door with nails, then +a passage, and then a staircase----" + +"On the left?" + +"Yes; and I counted the steps. Then I think we came to a corridor, +for they opened three doors." + +"Well?" + +"Then I heard another voice, and that belonged to the mistress, +I am sure; it was sweet and gentle." + +"Yes, yes, it was hers." + +"Good, it was hers." + +"I am sure of it." + +"Then they pushed me into the room where you were, and told me +to take off my bandage, when I saw you----" + +"Where was I?" + +"On a bed." + +"A bed of white and gold damask?" + +"Yes." + +"In a room hung with tapestry?" + +"Just so." + +"And a painted ceiling?" + +"Yes, and between two windows----" + +"A portrait?" + +"Yes." + +"Representing a woman about nineteen?" + +"Yes." + +"Blonde, and beautiful as an angel?" + +"More beautiful." + +"Bravo! what did you do then?" + +"I dressed your wound." + +"And, ma foi! very well." + +"As well as I could." + +"Admirably! this morning it was nearly well." + +"It is thanks to a balm I have composed, and which appears to +me sovereign, for many times, not knowing who to practise upon, +I have made wounds on myself, and they were always well in two +or three days." + +"My dear M. Remy, you are a charming doctor. Well, afterwards?" + +"You fainted again. The voice asked me how you were." + +"From whence?" + +"From a room at the side." + +"So you did not see her?" + +"No." + +"And you replied?" + +"That the wound was not dangerous, and in twenty-four hours would +be well." + +"She seemed pleased?" + +"Charmed; for she cried, 'I am very glad of that.'" + +"My dear M. Remy, I will make your fortune. Well?" + +"That was all; I had no more to do; and the voice said, 'M. +Remy----'" + +"She knew your name?" + +"Yes; 'M. Remy,' said she, 'be a man of honor to the last; do not +compromise a poor woman carried away by an excess of humanity. +Take your bandage, and let them take you straight home.'" + +"You promised?" + +"I gave my word." + +"And you kept it?" + +"As you see, for I am seeking now." + +"You are an honest man, and here is my hand," cried Bussy. + +"Monsieur, it will be an eternal glory for me to have touched +the hand of Bussy d'Amboise. However, I have a scruple. There +were ten pistoles in the purse." + +"Well?" + +"It is too much for a man who charges five sous for his visits, +when he does not give them gratis, and I was seeking the house----" + +"To return the purse?" + +"Just so." + +"My dear M. Remy, it is too much delicacy; you have earned the +money well, and may surely keep it." + +"You think so?" said Remy, well pleased. + +"But I also am in your debt; indeed, it was I who ought to have +paid you, and not the lady. Come, give me your confidence. What +do you do in Paris?" + +"What do I do? I do nothing; but I would if I had a connection." + +"Well, that is just right; I will give you a patient. Will you +have me? I am famous practise; for there is scarcely a day when +I do not deface God's noblest work for others, or they for me. +Will you undertake the care of all the holes I make in the skin +of others or others in mine?" + +"Ah, M. le Comte! this honor." + +"No; you are just the man I want. You shall come and live with +me; you shall have your own rooms, and your own servants; accept, +or you will really annoy me." + +"M. le Comte, I am so overjoyed, I cannot express it. I will work--I +will make a connection----" + +"But, no, I tell you, I keep you for myself and my friends. Now, +do you remember anything more?" + +"Nothing." + +"Ah, well! help me to find out, if it be possible." + +"I will." + +"And you, who are a man of observation, how do you account for +it, that after being doctored by you, I found myself by the Temple, +close to the ditch." + +"You!" + +"Yes, I. Did you help to take me there?" + +"Certainly not, and I should have opposed it if they had consulted +me; for the cold might have done you much harm." + +"Then I can tell nothing. Will you search a little more with me?" + +"I will if you wish it; but I much fear it will be useless for +all these houses are alike." + +"Well, we must come again by day." + +"Yes; but then we shall be seen." + +"Then we must inquire." + +"We will, monseigneur." + +"And we shall unravel the mystery. Be sure, Remy, now there are +two of us to work." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +M. BRYAN DE MONSOREAU. + +It was more than joy, it was almost delirium, which agitated +Bussy when he had acquired the certainty that the lady of his +dream was a reality, and had, in fact, given him that generous +hospitality of which he had preserved the vague remembrance in +his heart. He would not let the young doctor go, but, dirty as +he was, made him get into the litter with him; he feared that if +he lost sight of him, he too would vanish like a dream. He would +have liked to talk all night of the unknown lady, and explain +to Remy how superior she was even to her portrait; but Remy, +beginning his functions at once, insisted that he should go to +bed: fatigue and pain gave the same counsel and these united +powers carried the point. + +The next day, on awaking, he found Remy at his bedside. The young +man could hardly believe in his good fortune, and wanted to see +Bussy again to be sure of it. + +"Well!" said he, "how are you, M. le Comte?" + +"Quite well, my dear Esculapius; and you, are you satisfied?" + +"So satisfied, my generous protector, that I would not change +places with the king. But I now must see the wound." + +"Look." And Bussy turned round for the young surgeon to take +off the bandage. All looked well; the wound was nearly closed. +Bussy, quite happy, had slept well, and sleep and happiness had +aided the doctor. + +"Well," said Bussy, "what do you say?" + +"I dare not tell you that you are nearly well, for fear you should +send me back to the Rue Beauheillis, five hundred paces from +the famous house." + +"Which we will find, will we not, Remy?" + +"I should think so." + +"Well, my friend, look on yourself as one of the house, and to-day, +while you move your things, let me go to the fete of the installation +of the new chief huntsman." + +"Ah! you want to commit follies already." + +"No, I promise to be very reasonable." + +"But you must ride." + +"It is necessary." + +"Have you a horse with an easy pace? + +"I have four to choose from." + +"Well, take for to-day the one you would choose for the lady of +the portrait you know." + +"Know! Ah, Remy, you have found the way to my heart forever; I +feared you would prevent me from going to this chase, or rather +this imitation of one, and all the ladies of the Court, and many +from the City, will be admitted to it. Now, Remy, this lady may be +there. She certainly is not a simple bourgeoise--those tapestries, +that bed, so much luxury as well as good taste, show a woman of +quality, or, at least, a rich one. If I were to meet her there!" + +"All is possible," replied Remy, philosophically. + +"Except to find the house," sighed Bussy. "Or to penetrate when +we have found it." + +"Oh! I have a method." + +"What is it?" + +"Get another sword wound." + +"Good; that gives me the hope that you will keep me." + +"Be easy, I feel as if I had known you for twenty years, and could +not do without you." + +The handsome face of the young doctor grew radiant with joy. + +"Well, then," said he, "it is decided; you go to the chase to +look for the lady, and I go to look for the house." + +"It will be curious if we each succeed." + +There had been a great chase commanded in the Bois de Vincennes, +for M. de Monsoreau to enter on his functions of chief huntsman. +Most people had believed, from the scene of the day before, that +the king would not attend, and much astonishment was expressed +when it was announced that he had set off with his brother and +all the court. The rendezvous was at the Point St. Louis. It was +thus they named a cross-road where the martyr king used to sit +under an oak-tree and administer justice. Everyone was therefore +assembled here at nine o'clock, when the new officer, object of +the general curiosity, unknown as he was to almost everyone, +appeared on a magnificent black horse. All eyes turned towards +him. + +He was a man about thirty-five, tall, marked by the smallpox, +and with a disagreeable expression. Dressed in a jacket of green +cloth braided with silver, with a silver shoulder belt, on which +the king's arms were embroidered in gold; on his head a cap with +a long plume; in his left hand a spear, and in his right the +estortuaire [Footnote: The estortuaire was a stick, which the +chief huntsman presented to the king, to put aside the branches +of the trees when he was going at full gallop.] destined for +the king, M. de Monsoreau might look like a terrible warrior, +but not certainly like a handsome cavalier. + +"Fie! what an ugly figure you have brought us, monseigneur," +said Bussy, to the Duc d'Anjou, "are these the sort of gentlemen +that your favor seeks for out of the provinces? Certainly, one +could hardly find such in Paris, which is nevertheless as well +stocked with ugliness. They say that your highness made a great +point of the king's appointing this man." + +"M. de Monsoreau has served me well, and I recompense him," replied +the duke. + +"Well said, monseigneur, it is rare for princes to be grateful; +but if that be all, I also have served you well, and should wear +the embroidered jacket more gracefully, I trust, than M. de +Monsoreau. He has a red beard, I see also, which is an additional +beauty." + +"I never knew that a man must be an Apollo, or Antinous, to fill +an office at court." + +"You never heard it; astonishing!" + +"I consult the heart and not the face--the services rendered and +promised." + +"Your highness will say I am very envious; but I search, and +uselessly, I confess, to discover what service this Monsoreau +can have rendered you." + +"You are too curious, Bussy," said the duke, angrily. + +"Just like princes," cried Bussy, with his ordinary freedom, +"they ask you everything; but if you ask a question in return, +you are too curious." + +"Well! go and ask M. de Monsoreau, himself." + +"Ah! you are right. He is but a simple gentleman, and if he do +not reply, I shall know what to say." + +"What?" + +"Tell him he is impertinent." And, turning from the prince, Bussy +approached M. de Monsoreau, who was in the midst of the circle. + +Bussy approached, gay and smiling, and his hat in his hand. + +"Pardon, monsieur, but you seem all alone. Is it that the favor +which you enjoy has already made you enemies?" + +"I do not know, monsieur, but it is probable. But, may I ask, +to what I owe the honor that you do me in invading my solitude?" + +"Ma foi, to the great admiration that M. le Duc d'Anjou has inspired +in me for you." + +"How so?" + +"By recounting to me the exploit for which you were made chief +huntsman." + +M. de Monsoreau grew so frightfully pale, that the marks in his +face looked like black spots on his yellow skin; at the same +time he looked at Bussy in a manner that portended a violent +storm. Bussy saw that he had done wrong; but he was not a man +to draw back; on the contrary, he was one of those who generally +repair an indiscretion by an impertinence. + +"You say, monsieur," said Monsoreau, "that the Duke recounted +to you my last exploit?" + +"Yes, monsieur, but I should much like to hear the story from +your own lips." + +M. de Monsoreau clasped his dagger tighter in his hand, as though +he longed to attack Bussy. + +"Ma foi, monsieur," said he, "I was quite disposed to grant your +request, and recognize your courtesy, but unfortunately here +is the king arriving, so we must leave it for another time." + +Indeed, the king, mounted on his favorite Spanish horse, advanced +rapidly towards them. He loved handsome faces, and was therefore +little pleased with that of M. de Monsoreau. However, he accepted, +with a good grace, the estortuaire which he presented to him, +kneeling, according to custom. As soon as the king was armed, +the chase commenced. + +Bussy watched narrowly everyone that passed, looking for the +original of the portrait, but in vain; there were pretty, even +beautiful and charming women, but not the charming creature whom +he sought for. He was reduced to conversation, and the company +of his ordinary friends. Antragues, always laughing and talking, +was a great amusement. + +"We have a frightful chief huntsman," said he to Bussy, "do you +not think so?" + +"I find him horrible; what a family it must be if his children +are like him. Do you know his wife?" + +"He is not married." + +"How do you know?" + +"From Madame de Vendron, who finds him very handsome, and would +willingly make him her fourth husband. See how she keeps near +him." + +"What property has he?" + +"Oh! a great deal in Anjou." + +"Then he is rich?" + +"They say so, but that is all; he is not of very good birth. But +see, there is M. le Duc d'Anjou calling to you." + +"Ah! ma foi, he must wait. I am curious about this man. I find +him singular, I hardly know why. And such an odd name." + +"Oh! it comes from Mons Soricis; Livarot knows all about that.--Here, +Livarot; this Monsoreau----" + +"Well." + +"Tell us what you know about him----" + +"Willingly. Firstly, I am afraid of him." + +"Good, that is what you think; now tell us what you know." + +"Listen. I was going home one night----" + +"It begins in a terrible manner." + +"Pray let me finish. It was about six months ago, I was returning +from my uncle D'Entragues, through the wood of Meridor, when +all at once I heard a frightful cry, and I saw pass, with an +empty saddle, a white horse, rushing through the wood. I rode +on, and at the end of a long avenue, darkened by the approaching +shades of night, I saw a man on a black horse; he seemed to fly. +Then I heard again the same cry, and I distinguished before him +on the saddle a woman, on whose mouth he had his hand. I had a +gun in my hand--you know I aim well, and I should have killed +him, but my gun missed fire." + +"Well?" + +"I asked a woodcutter who this gentleman on the black horse was, +and he said, 'M. de Monsoreau.'" + +"Well," said Antragues, "it is not so uncommon to carry away a +woman, is it, Bussy?" + +"No; but, at least, one might let them cry out." + +"And who was the woman?" + +"That I do not know; but he has a bad reputation," + +"Do you know anything else about him?" + +"No; but he is much feared by his tenantry. However, he is a +good hunter, and will fill his post better than St. Luc would +have done, for whom it was first destined." + +"Do you know where St. Luc is?" + +"No; is he still the king's prisoner?" + +"Not at all; he set off at one o'clock this morning to visit his +country house with his wife." + +"Banished?" + +"It looks like it." + +"Impossible!" + +"True as the gospel; Marshal de Brissac told me so this morning." + +"Well! it has served M. de Monsoreau----" + +"Ah! I know now." + +"Know what?" + +"The service that he rendered to the duke." + +"Who? St. Luc?" + +"No; Monsoreau." + +"Really." + +"Yes, you shall see; come with me," and Bussy, followed by Livarot +and Antragues, galloped after the Duc d'Anjou. + +"Ah, monseigneur," said he, "what a precious man M. de Monsoreau +is." + +"Ah! really; then you spoke to him?" + +"Certainly." + +"And asked him what he had done for me?" + +"Certainly; that was all I spoke to him for." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He courteously confessed that he was your purveyor." + +"Of game?" + +"No; of women." + +"What do you mean, Bussy?" cried the duke angrily. + +"I mean, monseigneur, that he carries away women for you on his +great black horse, and that as they are ignorant of the honor +reserved for them, he puts his hand on their mouths to prevent +their crying out." + +The duke frowned, and ground his teeth with anger, grew pale, +and galloped on so fast, that Bussy and his, companions were +left in the rear. + +"Ah! ah! it seems that the joke is a good one," said Antragues. + +"And so much the better, that everyone does not seem to find it +a joke," said Bussy. + +A moment after, they heard the duke's voice calling Bussy. He +went, and found the duke laughing. + +"Oh!" said he, "it appears that what I said was droll." + +"I am not laughing at what you said." + +"So much the worse; I should have liked to have made a prince +laugh, who hardly ever does so." + +"I laugh at your inventing a false story to find out the true +one." + +"No, I told you the truth." + +"Well, then, as we are alone, tell me your little history. Where +did it happen?" + +"In the wood of Meridor." + +The duke grew pale again, but did not speak. + +"Decidedly," thought Bussy, "the duke is mixed up with that story. +Pardieu! monseigneur," said he, "as M. de Monsoreau seems to +have found the method of pleasing you so well, teach it to me." + +"Pardieu! yes, Bussy, I will tell you how. Listen; I met, by +chance, at church, a charming woman, and as some features of +her face, which I only saw through a veil, recalled to me a lady +whom I had much loved, I followed her, and found out where she +lived. I have gained over her servant, and have a key of the +house." + +"Well, monseigneur, all seems to go well for you." + +"But they say she is a great prude, although free, young, and +beautiful." + +"Ah! you are romancing." + +"Well, you are brave, and love me?" + +"I have my days." + +"For being brave?" + +"No, for loving you." + +"Well, is this one of the days?" + +"I will try and make it one, if I can serve your highness." + +"Well, I want you to do for me what most people do for themselves." + +"Make love to her, to find out if she be a prude?" + +"No, find out if she has a lover. I want you to lay in wait and +discover who the man is that visits her." + +"There is a man then?" + +"I fear so." + +"Lover, or husband?" + +"That is what I want to know." + +"And you want me to find out?" + +"If you will do me that great favor----" + +"You will make me the next chief huntsman." + +"I have never yet done anything for you." + +"Oh! you have discovered that at last." + +"Well, do you consent?" + +"To watch the lady?" + +"Yes." + +"Monseigneur, I confess I do not like the commission." + +"You offered to do me a service, and you draw back already!" + +"Because you want me to be a spy." + +"I ask you as a friend." + +"Monseigneur, this is a sort of thing that every man must do for +himself, even if he be a prince." + +"Then you refuse?" + +"Ma foi! yes." + +The duke frowned. "Well, I will go myself," said he, "and if I am +killed or wounded, I shall say that I begged my friend Bussy to. +undertake the task, and that for the first time he was prudent." + +"Monseigneur, you said to me the other night, 'Bussy, I hate +all those minions of the king's who are always laughing at and +insulting us; go to this wedding of St. Luc's, pick a quarrel +and try to get rid of them.' I went; they were five and I was +alone. I defied them all; they laid wait for me, attacked me +all together, and killed my horse, yet I wounded three of them. +To-day you ask me to wrong a woman. Pardon, monseigneur, but that +is past the service which a prince should exact from a gallant +man, and I refuse." + +"So be it; I will do my work myself, or with Aurilly, as I have +done already." + +"Oh!" said Bussy, with a sudden thought. + +"What?" + +"Were you engaged on it the night when you saw the ambush laid +for me?" + +"Just so." + +"Then your beautiful unknown lives near the Bastile." + +"Opposite the Rue St. Catherine. It is a dangerous place, as you +know." + +"Has your highness been there since?" + +"Yesterday." + +"And you saw?" + +"A man spying all about and who at last stopped at her door." + +"Was he alone?" + +"Yes, at first. Afterwards he was joined by another, with a lantern +in his hand." + +"Ah!" + +"Then they began to talk together, and at last, tired of waiting, +I went away. And before I venture into the house where I might +be killed----" + +"You would like one of your friends to try it." + +"They would not have my enemies, nor run the same risk; and then +they might report to me----" + +"In your place I would give up this woman." + +"No, she is too beautiful." + +"You said you hardly saw her." + +"I saw her enough to distinguish splendid blonde hair, magnificent +eyes, and such a complexion!" + +"Ah! ah!" + +"You understand! one does not easily renounce such a woman." + +"No, I feel for you." + +"You jest." + +"No, on my word, and the proof is, that if you will give me my +instructions, I will watch this evening." + +"You retract your decision?" + +"There is no one but the pope infallible; now tell me what I am +to do." + +"You will have to hide a little way off, and if a man enter, follow +him to find out who he is?" + +"But if, in entering, he close the door behind him?" + +"I told you I had a key." + +"Ah! true; then there is only one more thing to fear, that I should +follow a wrong man to a wrong door." + +"You cannot mistake; this door is the door of an alley, and at +the end of the alley there is a staircase; mount twelve steps, +and you will be in a corridor." + +"How do you know all this, if you have never been in?" + +"Did I not tell you I had gained over the servant? She told me +all." + +"Mon Dieu! how convenient it is to be a prince. I should have +had to find out all for myself, which would have taken me an +enormous time, and I might have failed after all." + +"Then you consent?" + +"Can I refuse your highness? But will you come with me to show +me the house?" + +"Useless; as we return from the chase, we will make a detour, +and pass through the Porte St. Antoine, and I will point it out +to you." + +"Very well, and what am I to do to the man if he comes?" + +"Only follow him till you learn who he is. I leave to you your +mode of action. And not a word to any one." + +"No, on my honor." + +"And you will go alone?" + +"Quite." + +"Well, then, it is settled; I show you the door on our way home; +then you come with me, and I give you the key." Bussy and the +prince then rejoined the rest. The king was charmed with the +manner in which M. de Monsoreau had conducted the chase. + +"Monseigneur," then said M. de Monsoreau to the duke, +"I owe my place and these compliments to you." + +"But you know that you must go to-night to Fontainebleau, where +the king will hunt to-morrow and the day after." + +"I know, monseigneur; I am prepared to start to-night." + +"Ah, M. de Monsoreau, there is no more rest for you," said Bussy, +"you wished to be chief huntsman, and you are so, and now you will +have at least fifty nights' rest less than other men. Luckily +you are not married." + +At this joke, Monsoreau's face was covered once more with that +hideous paleness which gave to him so sinister an aspect. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +HOW BUSSY FOUND BOTH THE PORTRAIT AND THE ORIGINAL. + +The chase terminated about four o'clock in the evening, and at +five all the court returned to Paris. As they passed by the Bastile, +the duke said to Bussy, "Look to the right, at that little wooden +house with a statue of the Virgin before it; well, count four +houses from that. It is the fifth you have to go to, just fronting +the Rue St. Catherine." + +"I see it; and look! at the sound of the trumpets announcing the +king, all the windows are filled with gazers." + +"Except the one I show you, where the curtains remain closed." + +"But there is a corner lifted," said Bussy, with a beating heart. + +"Yes, but we can see nothing. The lady is well guarded. However, +that is the house." + +When Bussy returned, he said to Remy, "Have you discovered the +house?" + +"No, monseigneur." + +"Well, I believe I have been more lucky." + +"How so, monsieur, have you been seeking?" + +"I passed through the street." + +"And you recognized the house?" + +"Providence, my dear friend, has mysterious ways." + +"Then you are sure?" + +"Not sure, but I hope." + +"And when shall I know if you are right?" + +"To-morrow morning." + +"Meanwhile, do you want me?" + +"No, my dear Remy." + +"Shall I not follow you?" + +"Impossible." + +"Be prudent, monseigneur." + +"Ah! the recommendation is useless, my prudence is well known." + +Bussy dined like a man who does not know when he will sup, then, +at eight o'clock, choosing the best of his swords, and attaching, +in spite of the king's orders, a pair of pistols to his belt, +went in his litter to the corner of the Rue St. Paul. + +He easily recognized the house again, and then, wrapped in his +cloak, hid at the corner of the street, determined to wait for +two hours, and at the end of that time, if no one came, to act +for himself. He had scarcely been there ten minutes, when he +saw two cavaliers coming. One of them dismounted, gave his horse +to the other, who was probably a lackey, and who went away with +the horses, and advanced towards the house pointed out to Bussy, +and, after glancing round to see if he were observed, opened +the door and went in. Bussy waited two or three minutes, and +then followed him. He advanced slowly and softly, found the +staircase, and went up. In the corridor he stopped, for he heard +a voice say, "Gertrude, tell your mistress that it is I, and +that I must come in." + +This was said in an imperious tone, and, a minute after, Bussy +heard a woman's voice say: + +"Pass into the drawing-room, Monsieur, and madame will come to +you." + +Then he heard the sound of a door shutting. He made a few steps +silently, and extending his hand, felt a door; he went in, found +a second in which was a key; he turned it, and entered the room +tremblingly. The room in which he found himself was dark, except +from the light shining from another. By this he could see two +windows, hung with tapestry, which sent a thrill of joy through +the young man's heart. On the ceiling he could faintly see the +mythological figures; he extended his hand, and felt the sculptured +bed. There was no more doubt, he was in the room where he had +awakened the night of his wound. + +Bussy hid behind the bed-curtains to listen. He heard in the +adjoining room the impatient step of the unknown; from time to +time he stopped, murmuring between his teeth, "Will she come?" + +Presently a door opened, and the rustling of a silk dress struck +on Bussy's ear. Then he heard a woman's voice, expressive at +once of fear and disdain, saying: + +"Here I am, monsieur, what do you want now?" + +"Madame," replied the man, "I have the honor of telling you that, +forced to set off to-morrow morning for Fontainebleau, I come +to pass the night with you." + +"Do you bring me news of my father?" + +"Madame, listen to me----" + +"Monsieur, you know what we agreed yesterday, when I consented +to become your wife, that, before all things, either my father +should come to Paris, or I should go to him." + +"Madame, as soon as I return from Fontainebleau, I give you my +word of honor, but meanwhile----" + +"Oh! monsieur, do not close the door, it is useless; I will not +pass a single night under the same roof with you until you bring +me my father." And the lady, who spoke, thus, whistled through a +silver whistle, which was then the manner of calling servants. + +Immediately the door opened, and a young, vigorous-looking girl +entered. As she went in, she left the door open, which threw +a strong light into the room where Bussy was hid, and between +the two windows he saw the portrait. Bussy now crept noiselessly +along to where he could peep into the room. However carefully he +moved, the floor creaked. At the noise the lady turned, she was +the original of the portrait. The man, seeing her turn, turned +also; it was M. de Monsoreau. + +"Ah!" thought Bussy, "the white horse, the woman carried away, +there is some terrible history." + +Bussy, as we have said, could see them both; she, standing up, +pale and disdainful. He, not pale, but livid, agitated his foot +impatiently. + +"Madame," said he, at last, "do not hope to continue with me +this character of a persecuted woman; you are at Paris, in my +house, and, still more, you are Comtesse de Monsoreau, that is +to say, my Wife. + +"If I am your wife, why refuse to conduct me to my father? Why +continue to hide me from the eyes of the world?" + +"You have forgotten the Duc d'Anjou, madame." + +"You assured me that, once your wife, I should have no more to +fear from him." + +"That is to say----" + +"You promised me that." + +"But still, madame, I must take precautions." + +"Well, monsieur, when you have taken them, return to me." + +"Diana," said the count, who was growing visibly angry, "Diana, +do not make a jest of this sacred tie." + +"Act so, monsieur, that I can have confidence in the husband, +and I will respect the marriage." + +"Oh! this is too much!" cried the count. "I am in my own house, +you are my wife, and this night you shall be mine." + +Bussy put his hand on his sword-hilt, and made a step forward, +but Diana did not give him time to appear. + +"Stay," said she, drawing a poignard from her belt, "here is +my answer." And rushing into the room where Bussy was, she shut +the door and locked it, while Monsoreau exhausted himself in +menaces and in blows on the door. + +"If you break this door you will find me dead on the threshold." + +"And be easy, madame, you shall be revenged," said Bussy. + +Diana was about to utter a cry, but her fear of her husband was +strong enough to restrain her. She remained pale and trembling, +but mute. + +M. de Monsoreau struck violently with his foot, but convinced +that Diana would execute her menace, went out of the drawing-room, +shutting the door violently behind him. Then they heard him going +down the stairs. + +"But you, monsieur," said Diana, turning to Bussy, "who are you, +and how came you here?" + +"Madame," said Bussy, opening the door, and kneeling before her, +"I am the man whose life you preserved. You cannot think that I +come to your house with any bad designs." As the light streamed +in, Diana recognized him at once. + +"Ah! you here, monsieur," cried she, clasping her hands, "you +were here--you heard all?" + +"Alas! yes, madame." + +"But who are you? your name, monsieur?" + +"Madame, I am Louis de Clermont, Comte de Bussy." + +"Bussy! you are the brave Bussy!" cried Diana, filling with joy +the heart of the young man. "Ah! Gertrude!" cried she, turning +to her servant, who, hearing her mistress talking to some one, +had entered in terror, "Gertrude, I have no more to fear, for +from this time I place myself under the safeguard of the most +noble and loyal gentleman in France." Then holding out her hand +to Bussy. + +"Rise, monsieur," said she, "I know who you are, now you must +know who I am." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +WHO DIANA WAS. + +Bussy rose, bewildered at his own happiness, and entered with +Diana into the room which M. de Monsoreau had just quitted. He +looked at Diana with astonishment and admiration; he had not +dared to hope that the woman whom he had sought for, would equal +the woman of his dream, and now the reality surpassed all that +he had taken for a caprice of his imagination. Diana was about +nineteen, that is to say in the first eclat of that youth and +beauty which gives the purest coloring to the flower, the finest +flavor to the fruit. There was no mistaking the looks of Bussy; +Diana felt herself admired. At last she broke the silence. + +"Monsieur," said she, "you have told me who you are, but not how +you came here." + +"Madame, the cause of my presence here will come naturally out +of the recital you have been good enough to promise me; I am +sure of it, from some words of your conversation with M. de +Monsoreau." + +"I will tell you all, monsieur; your name has been sufficient +to inspire me with full confidence, for I have always heard of +it as of that of a man of honor, loyalty, and courage." + +Bussy bowed, and Diana went on. + +"I am the daughter of the Baron de Meridor--that is to say, the +only heiress of one of the noblest and oldest names in Anjou." + +"There was," said Bussy, "a Baron de Meridor, who, although he +could have saved himself, came voluntarily and gave up his sword +at the battle of Pavia, when he heard that the king was a prisoner, +and begged to accompany Francis to Madrid, partook his captivity, +and only quitted him to come to France and negotiate his ransom." + +"It was my father, monsieur, and if ever you enter the great +hall of the Chateau de Meridor you will see, given in memory of +this devotion, the portrait of Francis I., painted by Leonardo +da Vinci." + +"Ah!" said Bussy, "in those times kings knew how to recompense +their followers." + +"On his return from Spain my father married. His two first children, +sons, died. This was a great grief to the Baron de Meridor. When +the king died, my father quitted the court, and shut himself +with his wife in the Chateau de Meridor. It was there that I was +born, ten years after the death of my brothers. + +"Then all the love of the baron was concentrated on the child +of his old age; his love for me was idolatry. Three years after +my birth I lost my mother, and, too young to feel my loss, my +smiles helped to console my father. As I was all to him, so was +he also all to me. I attained my sixteenth year without dreaming +of any other world than that of my sheep, my peacocks, my swans, +and my doves, without imagining that this life would change, +or wishing that it should. + +"The castle of Meridor was surrounded by vast forests, belonging +to the Duc d'Anjou; they were filled with deer and stags, whom +no one thought of tormenting, and who had grown quite familiar +to me; some of them would even come when I called them, and one, +a doe, my favorite Daphne, my poor Daphne, would come and eat +out of my hand. + +"One spring I had missed her for a month, and was ready to weep +for her as for a friend, when she reappeared with two little +fawns. At first they were afraid of me, but seeing their mother +caress me, they soon learned to do the same. + +"About this time we heard that the Duc d'Anjou had sent a governor +into the province, and that he was called the Comte de Monsoreau. +A week passed, during which everyone spoke of the new governor. +One morning the woods resounded with the sound of the horn, and +the barking of dogs. I ran to the park, and arrived just in time +to see Daphne, followed by her two fawns, pass like lightning, +pursued by a pack of hounds. An instant after, mounted on a black +horse, M. de Monsoreau flew past me. + +"I cried out and implored pity for my poor protegee, but he did +not hear me. Then I ran after him, hoping to meet either the +count or some of his suite and determined to implore them to stop +this chase, which pierced my heart. I ran for some time without +knowing where, for I had lost sight of both dogs and hunters. + +"Soon I could not even hear them, so I sat down at the foot of +a tree, and began to cry. I had been there about a quarter of +an hour, when I heard the chase again. The noise came nearer and +nearer, and, darting forward, I saw my poor Daphne again; she +had but one fawn with her now, the other had given way through +fatigue. She herself was growing visibly tired, and the distance +between her and the hounds was less than when I saw her first. + +"As before, I exerted myself in vain to make myself heard. M. de +Monsoreau saw nothing but the animal he was chasing; he passed +more quickly that ever, with his horn to his mouth, which he +was sounding loudly. Behind him two or three hunters animated +the dogs with horn and voice. All passed me like a tempest, and +disappeared in the forest. I was in despair, but I ran on once +more and followed a path which I knew led to the castle of Beauge. +belonging to the Duc d'Anjou, and which was about six miles from +the castle of Meridor. It was not till I arrived there that I +remembered that I was alone, and far from home. + +"I confess that a vague terror seized me, and that then only I +thought of the imprudence and folly of my conduct. I followed +the border of the lake, intending to ask the gardener (who, when +I had come there with my father, had often given me bouquets) to +take me home, when all at once I heard the sound of the chase +again. I remained motionless, listening, and I forgot all else. +Nearly at the same moment the doe reappeared, coming out of the +wood on the other side of the lake, but pursued so closely that +she must be taken immediately. She was alone, her second fawn +had fallen, but the sight of the water seemed to reanimate her, +and she plunged in as if she would have come to me. At first +she swam rapidly, and I looked at her with tears in my eyes, +and almost as breathless as herself; insensibly her strength +failed her, while the dogs seemed to grow more and more earnest +in their pursuit. Soon some of them reached her, and, stopped +by their bites, she ceased to advance. At this moment, M. de +Monsoreau appeared at the border of the lake, and jumped off +his horse. Then I collected all my strength to cry for pity, +with clasped hands. It seemed to me that he saw me, and I cried +again. He heard me, for he looked at me; then he ran towards +a boat, entered it, and advanced rapidly towards the animal, +who was fighting among the dogs. I did not doubt that, moved +by my voice, he was hastening to bring her succor, when all at +once I saw him draw his hunting knife, and plunge it into the +neck of the poor animal. The blood flowed out, reddening the +water at the lake, while the poor doe uttered a doleful cry, +beat the water with her feet, reared up, and then fell back dead. + +"I uttered a cry almost as doleful as hers, and fell fainting +on the bank. When I came to myself again, I was in bed, in a +room of the chateau of Beauge, and my father, who had been sent +for, standing by me. As it was nothing but over-excitement, the +next morning I was able to return home; although I suffered for +three or four days. Then my father told me, that M. de Monsoreau, +who had seen me, when I was carried to the castle, had come to +ask after me; he had been much grieved when he heard that he had +been the involuntary cause of my accident and begged to present +his excuses to me, saying, that he could not be happy until he +had his pardon from my own lips. + +"It would have been ridiculous to refuse to see him, so, in spite +of my repugnance, I granted his request. He came the next day; +I felt that my behavior must have seemed strange, and I excused +it on the ground of my affection for Daphne. The count swore +twenty times, that had he known I had any interest in his victim, +he would have spared her with pleasure; but his protestations +did not convince me, nor remove the unfavorable impression I +had formed of him. When he took leave, he asked my father's +permission to come again. He had been born in Spain and educated +at Madrid, and it was an attraction for my father to talk over +the place where he had been so long a prisoner. Besides, the +count was of good family, deputy-governor of the province, and +a favorite, it was said, of the Due d'Anjou; my father had no +motive for refusing his request, and it was granted. Alas! from +this moment ceased, if not my happiness, at least my tranquillity. +I soon perceived the impression I had made on the count; he began +to come every day, and was full of attentions to my father, who +showed the pleasure he took in his conversation, which was certainly +that of a clever man. + +"One morning my father entered my room with an air graver than +usual, but still evidently joyful. 'My child,' said he, 'you +always have said you did not wish to leave me.' + +"'Oh! my father,' cried I, 'it is my dearest wish.' + +"'Well, my Diana,' continued he, embracing me, 'it only depends +now on yourself to have your wish realized.' I guessed what he +was about to say, and grew dreadfully pale. + +"'Diana, my child, what is the matter?' cried he. + +"'M. de Monsoreau, is it not?' stammered I. 'Well?' said he, +astonished. 'Oh! never, my father, if you have any pity for your +daughter, never----' + +"'Diana, my love,' said he, 'it is not pity I have for you, but +idolatry; you know it; take a week to reflect, and if then----' + +"'Oh! no, no,' cried I, 'it is useless; not a day, not a minute! +No, no, no!' and I burst into tears. My father adored me, and he +took me in his arms, and gave me his word that he would speak +to me no more of this marriage. + +"Indeed, a month passed, during which I neither heard of nor +saw M. de Monsoreau. One morning we received an invitation to a +grand fete which M. de Monsoreau was to give to the Duc d'Anjou, +who was about to visit the province whose name he bore. To this +was added a personal invitation from the prince, who had seen +my father at court. My first impulse was to beg my father to +refuse, but he feared to offend the prince, so we went. M. de +Monsoreau received us as though nothing had passed, and behaved +to me exactly as he did to the other ladies. + +"Not so the duke. As soon as he saw me, he fixed his eyes on +me, and scarcely ever removed them. I felt ill at ease under +these looks, and begged my father to go home early. Three days +after M. de Monsoreau came to Meridor; I saw him from the windows, +and shut myself up in my own room. When he was gone, my father +said nothing to me, but I thought he looked gloomy. + +"Four days passed thus, when, as I was returning from a walk, +the servants told me that M. de Monsoreau was with my father, who +had asked for me several times, and had desired to be immediately +informed of my return. Indeed, no sooner had I entered my room, +than my father came to me. + +"'My child,' said he, 'a motive which I cannot explain to you, +forces me to separate myself from you for some days. Do not question +me, but be sure that it is an urgent one, since it determines +me to be a week, a fortnight, perhaps a month, without seeing +you.' I trembled, I knew not why, but I fancied that the visits +of M. de Monsoreau boded me no good. + +"'Where am I to go, my father?' asked I. + +"'To the chateau of Lude, to my sister, where you will be hidden +from all eyes. You will go by night.' 'And do you not accompany +me?' 'No, I must stay here, to ward off suspicion; even the servants +must not know where you are going.' 'But then, who will take me +there?' 'Two men whom I can trust.' 'Oh! mon Dieu! father,' I +cried. The baron embraced me. 'It is necessary, my child,' said +he. + +"I knew my father's love for me so well that I said no more, +only I asked that Gertrude, my nurse, should accompany me. My +father quitted me, telling me to get ready. + +"At eight o'clock (it was dark and cold, for it was the middle +of winter) my father came for me. We descended quietly, crossed +the garden, when he opened himself a little door leading to the +forest, and there we found a litter waiting, and two men; my +father spoke to them, then I got in, and Gertrude with me. + +"My father embraced me once more, and we set off. I was ignorant +what danger menaced me, and forced me to quit the castle of Meridor. +I did not dare to question my conductors, whom I did not know. We +went along quietly, and the motion of the litter at last sent +me to sleep, when I was awoke by Gertrude, who, seizing my arm, +cried out, 'Oh, mademoiselle, was is the matter?' + +"I passed my head through the curtains. We were surrounded by six +masked cavaliers, and our men, who had tried to defend me, were +disarmed. He who appeared the chief of the masked men approached +me, and said; 'Reassure yourself, mademoiselle, no harm will be +done to you, but you must follow us.' + +"'Where?' I asked. 'To a place,' he replied, 'where, far from +having anything to complain of, you will be treated like a queen.' +'Oh! my father! my father!' I cried. 'Listen, mademoiselle,' +said Gertrude, 'I know the environs, and I am strong; we may be +able to escape.' + +"'You must do as you will with us, gentlemen,' said I, 'we are +but two poor women, and cannot defend ourselves.' One of the men +then took the place of our conductor, and changed the direction +of our litter." + +Here Diana stopped a moment, as if overcome with emotion. + +"Oh, continue, madame, continue," cried Bussy. + +It was impossible for Diana not to see the interest she inspired +in the young man; it was shown in his voice, his gestures, his +looks. She smiled, and went on. + +"We continued our journey for about three hours, then the litter +stopped. I heard a door open, we went on, and I fancied we were +crossing a drawbridge. I was not wrong, for, on looking out of +the litter, I saw that we were in the courtyard of a castle. +What castle was it? We did not know. Often, during the route, +we had tried to discover where we were, but seemed to be in an +endless forest. The door of our litter was opened, and the same +man who had spoken to us before asked us to alight. I obeyed +in silence. Two men from the castle had come to meet us with +torches; they conducted us into a bedroom richly decorated, where +a collation waited for us on a table sumptuously laid out. + +"'You are at home here, madame,' said the same man, 'and the +room for your servant is adjoining. When you wish for anything, +you have but to strike with the knocker on this door, and some +one, who will be constantly in the antechamber, will wait on +you.' This apparent attention showed that we were guarded. Then +the man bowed and went out, and we heard him lock the door behind +him. + +"Gertrude and I were alone. She was about to speak, but I signed +her to be silent, for perhaps some one was listening. The door +of the room which had been shown us as Gertrude's was open, and +we went in to examine it. It was evidently the dressing-room to +mine, and was also locked. We were prisoners. Gertrude approached +me, and said in a low tone: 'Did demoiselle remark that we only +mounted five steps after leaving the court?' 'Yes,' said I. +'Therefore we are on the ground floor.' 'Doubtless.' 'So that----' +said she, pointing to the window. 'Yes, if they are not barred.' +'And if mademoiselle had courage.' 'Oh! yes, I have.' + +"Gertrude then took a light, and approached the window. It opened +easily, and was not barred; but we soon discovered the cause +of this seeming negligence on the part of our captors. A lake +lay below us, and we were guarded by ten feet of water better +than by bolts and bars. But in looking out I discovered where we +were. We were in the chateau of Beauge, where they had brought +me on the death of my poor Daphne. This castle belonged to the +Duc d'Anjou, and a sudden light was thrown upon our capture. +We shut the window again, and I threw myself, dressed, on my +bed, while Gertrude slept in a chair by my side. Twenty times +during the night I woke, a prey to sudden terror; but nothing +justified it, excepting the place where I found myself, for all +seemed asleep in the castle, and no noise but the cry of the +birds interrupted the silence of the night. Day appeared, but +only to confirm my conviction that flight was impossible without +external aid; and how could that reach us? About nine they came to +take away the supper and bring breakfast. Gertrude questioned the +servants, but they did not reply. Our morning passed in fruitless +plans for escape, and yet we could see a boat fastened to the +shore, with its oars in it. Could we only have reached that, +we might have been safe. + +"They brought us our dinner in the same way, put it down, and +left us. In breaking my bread I found in it a little note. I +opened it eagerly, and read, 'A friend watches over you. To-morrow +you shall have news of him and of your father.' You can imagine +my joy. The rest of the day passed in waiting and hoping. The +second night passed as quietly as the first; then came the hour +of breakfast, waited for impatiently, for I hoped to find another +note. I was not wrong, it was as follows:--'The person who had you +carried off will arrive at the castle of Beauge at ten o'clock +this evening; but at nine, the friend who watches over you will +be under your windows with a letter from your father, which will +command the confidence you, perhaps, might not otherwise give. +Burn this letter. + +"I read and re-read this letter, then burned it as I was desired. +The writing was unknown to me, and I did not know from whom it +could have come. We lost ourselves in conjectures, and a hundred +times during the morning we went to the window to see if we could +see any one on the shores of the lake, but all was solitary. +An hour after dinner, some one knocked at our door, and then +entered. It was the man who had spoken to us before. I recognized +his voice; he presented a letter to me. + +"'Whom do you come from?' asked I. 'Will mademoiselle take the +trouble to read, and she will see.' 'But I will not read this +letter without knowing whom it comes from.' 'Mademoiselle can +do as she pleases; my business is only to leave the letter,' +and putting it down, he went away. 'What shall I do?' asked I +of Gertrude. 'Read the letter, mademoiselle; it is better to +know what to expect.' I opened and read." + +Diana, at this moment, rose, opened a desk, and from a portfolio +drew out the letter. Bussy glanced at the address and read, "To +the beautiful Diana de Meridor." + +Then looking at Diana, he said-- + +"It is the Duc d'Anjou's writing." + +"Ah!" replied she, with a sigh, "then he did not deceive me." + +Then, as Bussy hesitated to open the letter-- + +"Read," said she, "chance has initiated you into the most secret +history of my life, and I wish to keep nothing from you." + +Bussy obeyed and read-- + + +"An unhappy prince, whom your divine beauty has struck to the +heart, will come at ten o'clock to-night to apologize for his +conduct towards you--conduct which he himself feels has no other +excuse than the invincible love he entertains for you. + +"FRANCOIS." + + +"Then this letter was really from the duke?" asked Diana. + +"Alas! yes; it is his writing and his seal." + +Diana sighed. "Can he be less guilty than I thought?" said she. + +"Who, the prince?" + +"No, M. de Monsoreau." + +"Continue, madame, and we will judge the prince and the count." + +"This letter, which I had then no idea of not believing genuine, +rendered still more precious to me the intervention of the unknown +friend who offered me aid in the name of my father; I had no +hope but in him. Night arrived soon, for it was in the month +of January, and we had still four or five hours to wait for the +appointed time. It was a fine frosty night; the heavens were +brilliant with stars, and the crescent moon lighted the country +with its silver beams. We had no means of knowing the time, but +we sat anxiously watching at Gertrude's window. At last we saw +figures moving among the trees, and then distinctly heard the +neighing of a horse. + +"It is our friends,' said Gertrude. 'Or the prince,' replied I. +'The prince would not hide himself.' This reflection reassured +me. A man now advanced alone: it seemed to us that he quitted +another group who were left under the shade of the trees. As he +advanced, my eyes made violent efforts to pierce the obscurity, +and I thought I recognized first the tall figure, then the features, +of M. de Monsoreau. I now feared almost as much the help as the +danger. I remained mute, and drew back from the window. Arrived at +the wall, he secured his boat, and I saw his head at our window. +I could not repress a cry. + +"'Ah, pardon,' said he, 'but I thought you expected me.' 'I expected +some one, monsieur, but I did not know it was you.' A bitter smile +passed over his face. 'Who else,' said he, 'except her father, +watches over the honor of Diana de Meridor?' 'You told me, monsieur, +in your letter, that you came in my father's name.' 'Yes, +mademoiselle, and lest you should doubt it, here is a note from +the baron,' and he gave me a paper. I read-- + +"'MY DEAR DIANA,--M. de Monsoreau can alone extricate you from +your dangerous position, and this danger is immense. Trust, then, +to him as to the best friend that Heaven can send to us. I will +tell you later what from the bottom of my heart I wish you to +do to acquit the debt we shall contract towards him. + +"'Your father, who begs you to believe him, and to have pity on +him, and on yourself, + +"'BARON DE MERIDOR.' + + +"I knew nothing against M. de Monsoreau; my dislike to him was +rather from instinct than reason. I had only to reproach him +with the death of a doe, a very light crime for a hunter. I then +turned towards him. 'Well?' said he. 'Monsieur, I have read my +father's letter, it tells me you will take me from hence, but +it does not tell me where you will take me.' 'Where the baron +waits for you.' 'And where is that?' 'In the castle of Meridor.' +'Then I shall see my father?' 'In two hours.' + +"'Ah I monsieur, if you speak truly----' I stopped. The count +waited for the end of my sentence. 'Count on my gratitude,' said +I in a trembling tone, for I knew what he might expect from my +gratitude. 'Then, mademoiselle,' said he, 'you are ready to +follow me?' I looked at Gertrude. 'Reflect that each minute that +passes is most precious,' said he, 'I am nearly half an hour +behind time now; it will soon be ten o'clock, and then the prince +will be here.' 'Alas! yes.' 'Once he comes, I can do nothing for +you but risk without hope that life which I now risk to save +you.' 'Why did not my father come?' I asked. 'Your father is +watched. They know every step he takes.' 'But you----' 'Oh! I am +different; I am the prince's friend and confidant.' 'Then if +you are his friend----' 'Yes, I betray him for you; it is true, +as I told you just now, I am risking my life to save you.' This +seemed so true, that although I still felt repugnance, I could +not express it. 'I wait,' said the count, 'and stay; if you still +doubt, look there.' I looked, and saw on the opposite shore a +body of cavaliers advancing. 'It is the duke and his suite,' +said he, 'in five minutes it will be too late.' + +"I tried to rise, but my limbs failed me. Gertrude raised me +in her arms and gave me to the count. I shuddered at his touch, +but he held me fast and placed me in the boat. Gertrude followed +without aid. Then I noticed that my veil had come off, and was +floating on the water. I thought they would track us by it, and +I cried, 'My veil; catch my veil.' The count looked at it and +said, 'No, no, better leave it.' And seizing the oars, he rowed +with all his strength. We had just reached the bank when we saw +the windows of my room lighted up. 'Did I deceive you? Was it +time?' said M. de Monsoreau. 'Oh I yes, yes,' cried I, 'you are +really my saviour.' + +"The lights seemed to be moving about from one room to the other. +We heard voices, and a man entered who approached the open window, +looked out, saw the floating veil, and uttered a cry. 'You see I +did well to leave the veil,' said the count, 'the prince believes +that to escape him you threw yourself into the lake.' I trembled +at the man who had so instantaneously conceived this idea." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE TREATY. + +There was a moment's silence. Diana seemed almost overcome. Bussy +was already vowing eternal vengeance against her enemies. She +went on: + +"Scarcely had we touched the shore, when seven or eight men ran +to us. They were the count's people, and I thought I recognized +among them the two men who had escorted me when I left Meridor. +A squire held two horses, a black one for the count and a white +one for me. The count helped me to mount, and then jumped on +his own horse. Gertrude mounted en croupe behind one of the men, +and we set off at full gallop. The count held the bridle of my +horse. I said to him that I was a sufficiently good horsewoman to +dispense with this, but he replied that the horse was inclined to +run away. When we had gone about ten minutes, I heard Gertrude's +voice calling to me, and turning, I saw that four of the men +were taking her by a different path from that which we were +following. 'Gertrude,' cried I, 'why does she not come with me?' +'It is an indispensable precaution,' said the count; 'if we are +pursued we must leave two tracks, and they must be able to say +in two places that they have seen a woman carried away by men. +There is then a chance that M. d'Anjou may take a wrong road, +and go after your servant instead of you.' Although specious, +this reply did not satisfy me, but what could I do? Besides, +the path which the count was following was the one which led +to the Chateau de Meridor. In a quarter of an hour, at the rate +at which we are going, we should have been at the castle, when +all at once, when we came to a cross road which I knew well, +the count, instead of following the road to the castle, turned +to the left, and took a road which led away from it. I cried +out, and in spite of our rapid pace had already my hand on the +pommel in order to jump off, when the count, seizing me round +the waist, drew me off my horse, and placed me on the saddle +before him. This action was so rapid that I had only time to +utter a cry. M. de Monsoreau put his hand on my mouth, and said, +'Mademoiselle, I swear to you, on my honor, that I only act by +your father's orders, as I will prove to you at the first halt +we make. If this proof appears to you insufficient, you shall +then be free.' 'But, monsieur,' cried I, pushing away his hand, +'you told me you were taking me to my father!' 'Yes, I told you +so, because I saw that you hesitated to follow me, and a moment's +more hesitation would have ruined us both, as you know. Now, do +you wish to kill your father? Will you march straight to your +dishonor? If so, I will take you to Meridor.' 'You spoke of a +proof that you acted in the name of my father.' 'Here it is,' +said the baron, giving me a letter, 'keep it, and read it at the +first stoppage. If, when you have read it, you wish to return +to Meridor, you are free; but if you have any respect for your +father's wishes you will not.' 'Then, monsieur,' I replied, 'let +us reach quickly our stopping-place, for I wish to know if you +speak the truth.' 'Remember, you follow me freely.' 'Yes, as freely +as a young girl can who sees herself placed between her father's +death and her own dishonor on the one hand, and on the other +the obligation to trust herself to the word of a man whom she +hardly knows.' 'Never mind, I follow you freely, monsieur, as +you shall see if you will give me my horse again.' The count +called to one of his men to dismount and give me his horse. 'The +white mare cannot be far,' said he to the man; 'seek her in the +forest and call her, she will come like a dog to her name or +to a whistle; you can rejoin us at La Chatre.' I shuddered in +spite of myself. La Chatre was ten leagues from Meridor, on the +road to Paris. 'Monsieur,' said I, 'I accompany you, but at La +Chatre we make our conditions.' 'Mademoiselle, at La Chatre you +shall give me your orders.' At daybreak we arrived at La Chatre, +but instead of entering the village we went by across-road to +a lonely house. I stopped. 'Where are we going?' I asked. +'Mademoiselle,' said the count, 'I appeal to yourself. Can we, +in flying from a prince next in power to the king, stop in an +ordinary village inn, where the first person would denounce us?' +'Well,' said I, 'go on.' We resumed our way. We were expected, +for a man had ridden on before to announce our arrival. A good +fire burned in a decent room, and a bed was prepared. 'This is +your room,' said the count, 'I will await your orders.' He went +out and left me alone. My first thought was for my letter. Here +it is, M. de Bussy; read." + +Bussy took the letter and read: + + +"MY BELOVED DIANA--As I do not doubt that, yielding to my prayer, +you have followed the Comte de Monsoreau, he must have told you +that you had the misfortune to please M. le Duc d'Anjou, and +that it was this prince who had you forcibly carried away and +taken to the castle of Beauge; judge by this violence of what the +prince is capable, and with what you were menaced. Your dishonor +I could not survive; but there is a means of escape--that of +marrying our noble friend. Once Countess of Monsoreau, the count +would protect his wife. My desire is, then, my darling daughter, +that this marriage should take place as soon as possible, and +if you consent, I give you my paternal benediction, and pray +God to bestow upon you every treasure of happiness. + +"Your father, who does not order, but entreats, + +"BARON DE MERIDOR." + + +"Alas!" said Bussy, "if this letter be from your father, it is +but too positive." + +"I do not doubt its being from him, and yet I read it three times +before deciding. At last I called the count. He entered at once; +I had the letter in my hand. 'Well, have you read it?' said he. +'Yes,' I replied. 'Do you still doubt my devotion and respect?' +'This letter imposes belief on me, monsieur; but in case I yield +to my father's wishes, what do you propose to do?' 'To take you +to Paris, mademoiselle; that is the easiest place to hide you.' +'And my father?' 'As soon as there is no longer danger of +compromising you, you know he will come to you wherever you are.' +'Well, monsieur, I am ready to accept your protection on the +conditions you impose.' + +"'I impose nothing, mademoiselle,' answered he, 'I simply offer +you a method of safety.' 'Well, I will accept this safety on +three conditions.' 'Speak, mademoiselle.' 'The first is, that +Gertrude shall return to me.' She is here. 'The second is, that +we travel separately to Paris.' 'I was about to propose it to +you.' 'And the third is, that our marriage, unless I myself +acknowledge some urgent necessity for it, shall only take place +in presence of my father.' 'It is my earnest desire; I count +on his benediction to draw upon us that of heaven.' + +"I was in despair. I had hoped for some opposition to my wishes. +'Now, mademoiselle,' said he, 'allow me to give you some advice.' +'I listen, monsieur.' 'Only to travel by night.' 'Agreed.' 'To let +me choose the route, and the places where you should stop. All +my precautions will be taken with the sole aim of escaping the +Duc d'Anjou.' 'I have no objection to make, monsieur.' 'Lastly, +at Paris, to occupy the lodging I shall prepare for you, however +simple and out of the way it may be.' 'I only ask to live hidden, +monsieur, the more out of the way, the better it will suit me.' +'Then, as we are agreed on all points, mademoiselle, it only +remains for me to present to you my humble respects, and to send +to you your femme de chambre.' 'On my side! monsieur, be sure +that if you keep all your promises, I will keep mine.' 'That is +all I ask,' said the count, 'and the promise makes me the happiest +of men.' + +"With these words, he bowed and went out. Five minutes after, +Gertrude entered. The joy of this good girl was great; she had +believed herself separated from me forever. I told her all that +had passed. As I finished, we heard the sound of a horse's hoofs. +I ran to the window; it was M. de Monsoreau going away. He had +fulfilled two articles of the treaty. We passed all the day in +that little house, served by our hostess; in the evening the +chief of our escort appeared, and asked me if I were ready. I +said yes, and five minutes after, we set off. At the door I found +my white mare. We traveled all night, and stopped at daybreak. +I calculated we had gone about thirty-five miles, but my horse +had a very easy pace, and on leaving the house a fur cloak had +been thrown over me to protect me from the cold. It took us seven +days to reach Paris in this manner, and I saw nothing of the +count. We entered the city at night, and the first object I saw, +after passing through the gate, was an immense monastery; then +we crossed the river, and in ten minutes we were in the Place de +la Bastile. Then a man who seemed to be waiting for us, advanced +and said, 'It is here.' The chief of our escort jumped off his +horse, and presented me his hand to dismount also. A door was +open, and the staircase lighted by a lamp. 'Madame,' said the man +to me, 'you are now at home. At this door finishes the mission +I received; may I flatter myself I have fulfilled it according +to your wishes?' 'Yes, monsieur,' said I, 'I have only thanks +to give you. Offer them in my name to all your men; I would wish +to reward them in a better manner, but I possess nothing.' 'Do +not be uneasy about that, madame,' said he, 'they are largely +recompensed.' + +"Then the little troop went away, and we went up the stairs of +our house, and found ourselves in a corridor. Three doors were +open; we entered the middle one, and found ourselves in the room +where we now stand. On opening the door of my bedroom, to my +great astonishment I found my own portrait there. It was one +which had hung at Meridor, and the count had doubtless begged +it of my father. I trembled at this new proof that my father +regarded me already as his wife. + +"Nothing was wanting in the room; a fire burned in the grate, and +a supper was ready in the sitting-room. I saw with satisfaction +that it was laid for one only, and yet when Gertrude said, 'Well, +mademoiselle, you see the count keeps his promises.'--'Alas! +yes,' replied I with a sigh, for I should have preferred that +by breaking his word he should have given me an excuse to break +mine. After supper, we examined the house, but found no one in +it. The next day Gertrude went out, and from her I learned that +we were at the end of the Rue St. Antoine, near the Bastile. That +evening, as we were sitting down to supper, some one knocked. +I grew pale. + +"'If it be the count?' asked Gertrude. 'You must open to him; +he has kept his promises, and I must keep mine.' A moment after +he entered. 'Well, madame,' said he, 'have I kept my word?' +'Yes, monsieur, and I thank you for it.' 'Then you will receive +me?' said he, with an ironical smile. 'Enter, monsieur,' said I, +'have you any news?' 'Of what, madame?' 'Of my father, firstly?' +'I have not been to Meridor and have not seen the baron.' 'Then +of Beauge, and the Duc d'Anjou?' 'I have been to Beauge, and +have spoken to the duke.' 'What does he say?' 'He appears to +doubt.' 'Of what?' 'Of your death.' 'But you confirmed it?' 'I +did all I could.' 'Where is the duke?' I then asked. 'He returned +to Paris yesterday. One does not like to stay in a place where +one has the death of a woman to reproach one's self with.' 'Have +you seen him in Paris?' 'I have just left him.' 'Did he speak of +me?' 'I did not give him time; I spoke incessantly of a promise +which he made to me.' 'What is it?' 'He promised me as a reward +for services rendered to him, to make, me chief huntsman.' 'Ah, +yes,' said I, thinking of my poor Daphne 'you are a terrible hunter, +I know.' 'It is not for, that reason I obtain it, but the duke +dare not be ungrateful to me.' + +"'Can I write to my father?' said I. 'Doubtless; but your letters +may be intercepted.' 'Am I forbidden to go out?' 'Nothing is +forbidden; but I beg to point out to you that you may be followed.' +'At least I must go on Sunday to mass.' 'It would be better not; +but if you do, I advise you to go to St. Catherine.' 'Where is +that?' 'Just opposite you.' There was a silence. Then I said, 'When +shall I see you again, monsieur?' 'When I have your permission +to come.' 'Do you need it?' 'Certainly, as yet I am a stranger +to you.' 'Monsieur,' said I, half frightened at this unnatural +submission, 'you can return when you like, or when you think +you have anything important to communicate.' + +"'Thanks, madame,' said he, 'I will use your permission, but +not abuse it. I know you do not love me, and I will not abuse +a situation which forces you to receive me. You will, I trust, +gradually become accustomed to the thought, and be willing, when +the moment shall arrive, to become my wife.' 'Monsieur,' said +I, 'I appreciate your delicacy and frankness. I will use the +same frankness. I had a prejudice against you, which I trust +that time will cure.' 'Permit me,' said he, 'to partake this +anticipation and live in the hopes of that happy moment.' Then +bowing respectfully, he went out." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE MARRIAGE. + +"A strange man," said Bussy. + +"Yes, is he not, monsieur? When he was gone I felt sadder and more +frightened than ever. This icy respect, this ironical obedience, +this repressed passion, which now and then showed itself in his +voice, frightened me more than a will firmly expressed, and which +I could have opposed, would have done. The next day was Sunday; +I had never in my life missed divine service, so I took a thick +veil and went to St. Catherine's, followed by Gertrude, and no +one seemed to remark us. + +"The next day the count came to announce to me that the duke +had fulfilled his promise, and had obtained for him the place +of chief huntsman, which had been promised to M. de St. Luc. +A week passed thus: the count came twice to see me, and always +preserved the same cold and submissive manner. The next Sunday I +went again to the church. Imprudently, in the midst of my prayers, +I raised my veil. I was praying earnestly for my father, when +Gertrude touched me on the arm. I raised my head, and saw with +terror M. le Duc d'Anjou leaning against the column, and looking +earnestly at me. A man stood by him." + +"It was Aurilly," said Bussy. + +"Yes, that was the name that Gertrude told me afterwards. I drew +my veil quickly over my face, but it was too late: he had seen +me, and if he had not recognized me, at least my resemblance to +her whom he believed dead had struck him. Uneasy, I left the +church, but found him standing at the door and he offered to +me the holy water as I passed. I feigned not to see him, and +went on. We soon discovered that we were followed. Had I known +anything of Paris, I would have attempted to lead them wrong, +but I knew no more of it than from the church to the house, nor +did I know any one of whom I could ask a quarter of an hour's +hospitality; not a friend, and only one protector, whom I feared +more than an enemy." + +"Oh! mon Dieu!" cried Bussy, "why did not Heaven, or chance, throw +me sooner in your path?" + +Diana thanked the young man with a look. + +"But pray go on," said Bussy, "I interrupt you, and yet I am dying +to hear more." + +"That evening M. de Monsoreau came. I did not know whether to +tell him of what had happened, but he began, 'You asked me if +you could go to mass, and I told you you were free, but that it +would be better not to do so. You would not believe me: you went +this morning to St. Catherine's, and by a fatality the prince +was there and saw you.' 'It is true, monsieur; but I do not know +if he recognized me.' 'Your face struck him; your resemblance to +the woman he regrets appeared to him extraordinary, he followed +you home, and made inquiries, but learned nothing, for no one +knew anything.' 'Mon Dieu!' cried I. 'The duke is persevering,' +said he. 'Oh! he will forget me, I hope.' + +"'No one forgets you who has once seen you,' said he. 'I did +all I could to forget you, and I have not succeeded.' And the +first passionate look that I had seen flashed from the eyes of +the count. I was more terrified by it than I had been by the +sight of the prince. I remained mute. 'What will you do?' asked +the count. 'Can I not change my abode--go to the other end of +Paris, or, better still, return to Anjou?' 'It will be useless; +the duke is a terrible bloodhound, and now he is on your track, +he will follow you wherever you go till he finds you.' 'Oh! mon +Dieu! you frighten me.' 'I tell you the simple truth.' 'Then +what do you advise me to do?' 'Alas!' said he, with a bitter +irony. 'I am a man of poor imagination. I had formed a plan, +but it does not suit you; I can find no other.' 'But the danger +is perhaps less pressing than you imagine.' + +"'The future will show us, madame,' said the count, rising. 'I +can but add that the Comtesse de Monsoreau would have the less to +fear from the prince, as my new post places me under the direct +protection of the court.' I only replied by a sigh. He smiled +bitterly, and as he went down-stairs I heard him giving vent to +oaths. The next day, when Gertrude went out, she was accosted by +a young man whom she recognized as the one who had accompanied the +prince, but she remained obstinately silent to all his questions. +This meeting inspired me with profound terror; I feared that +M. de Monsoreau would not come, and that they would invade the +house in his absence. I sent for him, he came at once. I told +him all about the young man, whom I described. + +"'It was Aurilly;' he said, 'and what did Gertrude answer?' 'She +did not answer at all.' 'She was wrong,' said he. 'Why?' 'We +must gain time.' 'Time?' 'Yes, I am now dependent on the Duc +d'Anjou; in a fortnight, in a week perhaps, he will be in my +power. We must deceive him to get him to wait.' 'Mon Dieu!' +'Certainly; hope will make him patient. A complete refusal will +push him to extremities.' 'Monsieur, write to my father; he will +throw himself at the feet of the king. He will have pity on an +old man.' 'That is according to the king's humor, and whether +he be for the time friendly or hostile to the duke. Besides, +it would take six days for a messenger to reach your father, +and six days for him to come here. In twelve days, if we do not +stop him, the duke will have done all he can do.' + +"'And how to stop him?' I cried. A smile passed over the lips of +M. de Monsoreau at this first appeal to his protection. 'Madame,' +said he, 'will you permit me to pass two or three hours in your +room? I may be seen going out, and would rather wait till dark.' +I signed him to sit down. We conversed; he was clever and had +traveled much, and at the end of the time I understood, better +than I had ever done before, the influence he had obtained over +my father. When it grew dark, he rose and took leave. Gertrude +and I then approached the window, and could distinctly see two +men examining the house. The next day, Gertrude, when she went +out, found the same young man in the same place. He spoke to +her again, and this time she answered him. On the following day +she told him that I was the widow of a counselor, who, being +poor, lived in retirement. He tried to learn more, but could +extract nothing further from her. The next day, Aurilly, who +seemed to doubt her story, spoke of Anjou, of Beauge, and Meridor. +Gertrude declared these names to be perfectly unknown to her. +Then he avowed that he came from the Duc d'Anjou, who had seen +and fallen in love with me; then came magnificent offers for +both of us, for her, if she would introduce the prince into my +house, and for me, if I would receive him. + +"Every evening M. de Monsoreau came, to hear what was going on, +and remained from eight o'clock to midnight, and it was evident +that his anxiety was great. On Saturday evening he arrived pale +and agitated. + +"'You must promise to receive the duke on Tuesday or Wednesday,' +said he. 'Promise! and why?' 'Because he has made up his mind to +come in, and he is just now on the best terms with the king; we +have nothing to expect from him.' 'But before then will anything +happen to help me?' 'I hope so. I expect from day to day the +event which is to place the duke in my power. But tomorrow I +must leave you, and must go to Monsoreau.' 'Must you?' cried I +with a mixture of joy and terror. 'Yes, I have there a rendezvous +which is indispensable to bring about the event of which I speak.' +'But if you fail, what are we to do?' 'What can I do against +a prince, if I have no right to protect you, but yield to bad +fortune?' + +"'Oh! my father! my father!' cried I. The count looked at me. +'What have you to reproach me with?' said he. 'Nothing, on the +contrary.' 'Have I not been a devoted friend, and as respectful +as a brother?' 'You have behaved throughout like a gallant man.' +'Had I not your promise?' 'Yes.' 'Have I once recalled it to +you?' 'No.' 'And yet you prefer to be the mistress of the duke, +to being my wife?' 'I do not say so, monsieur.' 'Then decide.' 'I +have decided.' 'To be Countess of Monsoreau?' 'Rather than mistress +of the duke.' 'The alternative is flattering. But, meanwhile, +let Gertrude gain time until Tuesday.' The next day Gertrude +went out, but did not meet Aurilly. We felt more frightened at +his absence than we had done at his presence. Night came, and +we were full of terror. We were alone and feeble, and for the +first time I felt my injustice to the count." + +"Oh! madame!" cried Bussy, "do not be in a hurry to think so, +his conduct conceals some mystery, I believe." + +"All was quiet," continued Diana, "until eleven o'clock. Then +five men came out of the Rue St Antoine, and hid themselves by +the Hotel des Tournelles. We began to tremble; were they there +for us? However, they remained quiet, and a quarter of an hour +passed; then we saw two other men approach. By the moonlight +Gertrude recognized Aurilly. 'Alas! mademoiselle; it is they,' +cried she. 'Yes,' cried I, trembling, 'and the five others are +to help them.' 'But they must force the door,' said Gertrude, +'perhaps the neighbors will come and help us.' 'Oh! no, they +do not know us, and they will not fight against the duke. Alas! +Gertrude, I fear we have no real defender but the count.' 'Well! +then, why do you always refuse to marry him?' I sighed." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE MARRIAGE. + +"The two men approached the window. We gently opened it a little +way, and heard one say, 'Are you sure it is here?' 'Yes, monseigneur, +quite sure,' said the other. 'It is the fifth house from the +corner of the Rue St. Paul.' 'And you are sure of the key?' 'I +took the pattern of the lock.' I seized Gertrude's arm in terror. +'And once inside' he went on, 'the servant will admit us; your +highness has in your pocket a golden key as good as this one.' +'Open, then.' We heard the key turn in the lock but all at once +the ambushed men rushed forward, crying, 'a mort! a mort!' I +could not understand this, only I saw that unexpected help had +come to us, and I fell on my knees, thanking Heaven. But the +prince had only to name himself, when every sword went back into +the scabbard, and every foot drew back." + +"Yes, yes," said Bussy, "it was for me they came, not for the +prince." + +"However, this attack caused the prince to retire, and the five +gentlemen went back to their hiding-place. It was evident that +the danger was over for that night, but we were too unquiet to +go to bed. Soon we saw a man on horseback appear, and then the +five gentlemen immediately rushed on him. You know the rest, +as the gentleman was yourself." + +"On the contrary, madame, I know only that I fought and then +fainted." + +"It is useless to say," continued Diana, with a blush, "the interest +that we took in the combat so unequal, but so valiantly sustained. +Each blow drew from us a shudder, a cry, and a prayer. We saw +your horse fall, and we thought you lost, but it was not so; +the brave Bussy merited his reputation. At last, surrounded, +menaced on all sides, you retreated like a lion, facing your +foes, and came to lean against our door; the same idea came to +both of us, to go down and open to you, and we ran towards the +staircase; but we had barricaded the door, and it took us some +minutes to move the furniture, and as we arrived on the stairs, +we heard the door shut. We stopped, and looked at each other, +wondering who had entered. Soon we heard steps, and a man appeared, +who tottered, threw up his arms, and fell on the first step. It +was evident that he was not pursued, but had put the door, so +luckily left open by the duke, between him and his adversaries. +In any case we had nothing to fear; it was he who needed our help. +Gertrude ran and fetched a lamp, and we found you had fainted, and +carried you to the bed. Gertrude had heard of a wonderful cure +made by a young doctor in the Rue Beautrellis, and she offered to +go and fetch him. 'But,' said I, 'he might betray us.' 'I will +take precautions' said she. She took money and the key, and I +remained alone near you, and--praying for you." + +"Alas!" said Bussy, "I did not know all my happiness, madame." + +"In a quarter of an hour Gertrude returned, bringing the young +doctor with his eyes bandaged." + +"Yes, it was at that moment I recovered my senses and saw your +portrait, and thought I saw you enter," said Bussy. + +"I did so; my anxiety was stronger than my prudence. The doctor +examined your wound and answered for your life." + +"All that remained in my mind," said Bussy, "like a dream, and +yet something told me," added he, laying his hand upon his heart, +"that it was real." + +"When the surgeon had dressed your wound, he drew from his pocket +a little bottle containing a red liquor, of which he put some +drops on your lips. He told me it was to counteract the fever and +produce sleep, and said that the only thing then was to keep you +quiet. Gertrude then bandaged his eyes again, and took him back +to the Rue Beautrellis, but she fancied he counted the steps." + +"He did so, madame." + +"This supposition frightened us. We feared he would betray us, +and we wished to get rid of every trace of the hospitality we +had shown you. I gathered up my courage; it was two o'clock, +and the streets were deserted; Gertrude was strong, and I aided +her, and between us we carried you to the Temple. Luckily we +met no one, but when we returned, I fainted with emotion." + +"Oh! madame!" cried Bussy, "how can I ever repay you for what +you have done for me?" + +There was a moment's silence, and they heard the clock of St. +Catherine's church strike. "Two o'clock," cried Diana, "and you +here!" + +"Oh! madame, do not send me away without telling me all. Suppose +that God had given you a brother, and tell this brother what +he can do for his sister." + +"Alas! nothing now; it is too late." + +"What happened the next day?" said Bussy; "what did you do on +that day when I thought constantly of you, without feeling sure +if you were not a vision of my delirium?" + +"During that day, Gertrude went out, and met Aurilly. He was +more pressing than ever. He said nothing of the night before, +but asked for an interview for his master. Gertrude appeared +to consent, but she asked until the Wednesday--that is to-day--to +decide. Aurilly promised that his master would wait until then. +That evening, M. de Monsoreau returned. We told him all, except +about you. + +"'Yes,' said he, 'I heard of all this. Then he has a key.' 'Can +we not change the lock?' 'He will get another key.' 'Put on bolts? +'He will come with ten men and force the door. 'But the event which +was to give you full power over him?' 'Is postponed indefinitely.' +I stood in despair. 'Monsieur,' said I, 'the duke has promised to +wait till Wednesday; I ask you to wait till Tuesday.' 'Tuesday +evening I will be here, madame,' and without another word he +went out. I followed him with my eyes, but instead of going away +he stood in the corner by the Hotel des Tournelles, and seemed +determined to watch me all night. Every proof of devotion he gave +me was like a knife in my heart. The two days passed rapidly, but +what I suffered it is impossible to describe. When Tuesday evening +came, I felt exhausted, and all emotion seemed dead within me. + +"Gertrude went to the window. 'Madame,' cried she, 'four men! +I see four men! They approach, they open the door--they enter! +It is, doubtless, the duke and his followers.' For an answer, +I drew my poniard, and placed it near me on the table. 'See,' +said I. An instant after, Gertrude returned, 'It is the count,' +said she. He entered. 'Gertrude tells me,' said he, 'that you +took me for the duke, and were ready to kill yourself.' It was +the first time I had ever seen him moved. Gertrude was wrong to +tell you,' said I. 'You know that I am not alone.' 'Gertrude saw +four men.' 'You know who they are?' 'I presume one is a priest, +and the others witnesses.' 'Then, you are ready to become my +wife?' 'It was so agreed; only I stipulated that except in an +urgent case, I would only marry you in the presence of my father.' +'I remember; but do you not think the case urgent?' 'Yes, and +the priest may marry us, but, until I have seen my father, I +will be your wife only in name.' + +"The count frowned, and bit his lips. 'I do not wish to coerce +you,' said he; 'you are free; but look here.' I went to the window, +and saw a man wrapped in a cloak, who seemed trying to get into +the house." + +"Oh! mon dieu!" cried Bussy; "and this was yesterday?" + +"Yes, about nine o'clock. Presently, another man, with a lantern, +joined him. I thought it was the duke and his followers. + +"'Now,' said, M de Monsoreau, 'shall I go or stay?' I hesitated +a moment, in spite of my father's letter and of my given word, +but those two men there----" + +"Oh! unhappy that I am," cried Bussy, "it was I and Remy, the +young doctor." + +"You!" cried Diana. + +"Yes, I; I, who, more and more convinced of the reality of my +dream, sought for the house where I had been, and the woman, +or rather angel, who had appeared to me. Oh! I am unfortunate. +Then," continued he, after a pause, "you are his wife?" + +"Since yesterday." + +There was a fresh silence. + +"But," said Diana at last, "how did you enter this house?" + +Bussy silently showed his key. + +"A key! where did you get it?" + +"Had not Gertrude promised the prince to enter tonight? He had +seen M. de Monsoreau here, and also myself, and fearing a snare, +sent me to find out." + +"And you accepted this mission?" + +"It was my only method of penetrating to you. Will you reproach +me for having sought at once the greatest joy and the greatest +grief of my life?" + +"Yes, for it is better that you should see me no more, and forget +me." + +"No, madame; God has brought me to you, to deliver you from the +toils in which your enemies have taken you. I vow my life to +you. You wish for news of your father?" + +"Oh, yes! for, in truth, I know not what has become of him." + +"Well, I charge myself with finding out; only think of him who +henceforth will live but for you." + +"But this key?" + +"This key I restore to you, for I will receive it only from your +hands; but I pledge you my word as a gentleman, that never sister +could trust in a brother more devoted and respectful." + +"I trust to the word of the brave Bussy. Here, monsieur," and +she gave back the key. + +"Madame, in a fortnight we will know more;" and, saluting Diana +with a respect mingled with love and sadness, Bussy took leave. +Diana listened to his retreating steps with tears in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +HOW HENRI III. TRAVELED, AND HOW LONG IT TOOK HIM TO GET FROM +PARIS TO FONTAINEBLEAU. + +The sun, which shone four or five hours after the events which +we have just recorded had taken place, saw, by his pale light, +Henri III. set off for Fontainebleau, where a grand chase was +projected. A crowd of gentlemen, mounted on good horses and wrapped +in their fur cloaks, then a number of pages, after them lackey, +and then Swiss, followed the royal litter. This litter, drawn +by eight mules richly caparisoned, was a large machine, about +fifteen feet long and eight wide, on four wheels, furnished inside +with cushions and curtains of silk brocade. In difficult places +they substituted for the mules an indefinite number of oxen. + +This machine contained Henri III., his doctor, and his chaplain, +Chicot, four of the king's favorites, a pair of large dogs, and +a basket of little ones, which the king held on his knees, and +which was suspended from his neck by a golden chain. From the +roof hung a gilded cage containing turtle doves, quite white, +with a black ring round their necks. Sometimes the collection +was completed by the presence of two or three apes. Thus this +litter was commonly termed the Noah's Ark. + +Quelus and Maugiron employed themselves with plaiting ribbons, +a favorite diversion of that time; and Chicot amused himself +by making anagrams on the names of all the courtiers. Just as +they passed the Place Maubert, Chicot rushed out of the litter, +and went to kneel down before a house of good appearance. + +"Oh!" cried the king, "if you kneel, let it be before the crucifix +in the middle of the street, and not before the house. What do +you mean by it?" + +But Chicot, without attending, cried out in a loud voice: + +"Mon Dieu! I recognize it, I shall always recognize it--the house +where I suffered! I have never prayed for vengeance on M. de +Mayenne, author of my martyrdom, nor on Nicholas David, his +instrument. No; Chicot is patient, Chicot can wait, although +it is now six years that this debt has been running on, and in +seven years the interest is doubled. May, then, my patience last +another year, so that instead of fifty blows of a stirrup-leather +which I received in this house by the orders of this assassin +of a Lorraine prince, and which drew a pint of blood, I may owe +a hundred blows and two pints of blood! Amen, so be it!" + +"Amen!" said the king. + +Chicot then returned to the litter, amidst the wondering looks +of the spectators. + +"Why, Chicot, what does all this mean?" said the king. + +"Sire, it means that Chicot is like the fox--that he licks the +stones where his blood fell, until against those very stones +he crushes the heads of those who spilt it." + +"Explain yourself." + +"Sire, in that house lived a girl whom Chicot loved, a good and +charming creature, and a lady. One evening when he went to see +her, a certain prince, who had also fallen in love with her, +had him seized and beaten, so that Chicot was forced to jump +out of window; and as it was a miracle that he was not killed, +each time he passes the house he kneels down and thanks God for +his escape." + +"You were, then, well beaten, my poor Chicot?" + +"Yes, sire, and yet not as much as I wished." + +"Why--for your sins?" + +"No, for those of M. de Mayenne." + +"Oh! I understand; your intention is to render to Caesar----" + +"Not to Caesar, sire--Caesar is the great general, the valiant +warrior, the eldest brother, who wishes to be king of France. +No, you must settle with him; pay your debts, and I will pay +mine." + +Henri did not like to hear his cousin of Guise spoken of, and +this made him serious. It was three o'clock in the afternoon +when they arrived at Juvisy and the great hotel of the "Cour de +France." + +Chicot, looking out of the litter, saw at the door of the hotel +several men wrapped in cloaks. In the midst of them was a short, +stout person, whose large hat almost covered his face. They went +in quickly on seeing the litter, but not before the look of this +person had had time to excite Chicot's attention. Therefore he +jumped out, and asking a page for his horse, which was being +led, let the royal litter go on to Essones, where the king was +to sleep, while he remained behind, and, cautiously peeping in +through a window, saw the men whom he had noticed sitting inside. +He then entered the hotel, went into the opposite room, asked +for a bottle of wine, and placed himself so that, although he +could not be seen, no one could pass by without his seeing them. + +"Ah!" said he to himself, "shall I be forced to make my payment +sooner than I expected?" + +Soon Chicot found that by keeping the door open he could both +see into the room and hear what was said. + +"Gentlemen," said the short fat man to his companions, "I think +it is time to set out; the last lackey of the cortege is out +of sight, and I believe now that the road is safe." + +"Perfectly so, monseigneur," replied a voice which made Chicot +tremble, and which came from the mouth of a person as tall as +the other was short, as pale as he was red, and as obsequious +as he was arrogant. + +"Ah! M. Nicolas," said Chicot, "tu quoque, that is good. It will +be odd if I let you slip this time!" + +Then the short man came out, paid the bill, and, followed by +the others, took the road to Paris. Chicot followed them at a +distance. They entered by the Porte St. Antoine, and entered +the Hotel Guise. Chicot waited outside a full hour, in spite +of cold and hunger. At last the door reopened, but, instead of +seven cavaliers wrapped in their cloaks, seven monks came out, +with their hoods over their faces, and carrying immense rosaries. + +"Oh!" said Chicot, "is, then, the Hotel Guise so embalmed in +sanctity that wolves change into lambs only by entering it? This +becomes more and more interesting." + +And he followed the monks as he had followed the cavaliers, for +he believed them to be the same. The monks passed over the bridge +of Notre Dame, crossed the city and the petit pont, and went up +the Rue St. Genevieve. + +"Oh!" said Chicot, as he passed the house where he had kneeled +in the morning, "are we returning to Fontainebleau? In that case +I have made a round." + +However, the monks stopped at the door of the Abbey of St. Genevieve, +in the porch of which stood another monk, who examined everyone's +hand. + +"Why," said Chicot, "it seems that to be admitted to night into +the abbey one must have clean hands!" + +Then he saw, with astonishment, monks appear from every street +leading to the abbey, some alone, some walking in pairs, but +all coming to the abbey. + +"Ah!" said Chicot, "is there a general chapter at the abbey to-night? +I have never seen one, and I should like it much." + +The monks entered, showing their hands, or something in them, +and passed on. + +"I should like to go also," thought Chicot; "but for that I want +two things--a monk's robe, for I see no layman here, and then this +mysterious thing which they show to the porter, for certainly +they show something. Ah, Brother Gorenflot, if you were here!" + +The monks continued to arrive, till it seemed as if half Paris +had taken the frock. + +"There must be something extraordinary to-night," thought Chicot. +"I will go and find Gorenflot at the Corne d'Abondance; he will +be at supper." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +BROTHER GORENFLOT. + +To the beautiful day had succeeded a beautiful evening, only, +as the day had been cold, the evening was still colder. It was +one of those frosts which make the lights in the windows of an +hotel look doubly tempting. Chicot first entered the dining-room, +and looked around him, but not finding there the man he sought +for, went familiarly down to the kitchen. The master of the +establishment was superintending a frying-pan full of whitings. +At the sound of Chicot's step he turned. + +"Ah! it is you, monsieur," said he, "good evening, and a good +appetite to you." + +"Thanks for the wish, but you know I cannot bear to eat alone." + +"If necessary, monsieur, I will sup with you." + +"Thanks, my dear host, but though I know you to be an excellent +companion, I seek for some one else." + +"Brother Gorenflot, perhaps?" + +"Just so; has he begun supper?" + +"No, not yet; but you must make haste nevertheless, for in five +minutes he will have finished." + +"Monsieur!" cried Chicot, striking his head. + +"Monsieur, it is Friday, and the beginning of Lent." + +"Well, and what then?" said Chicot, who did not hold a high opinion +of Gorenflot's religious austerity. + +Boutromet shrugged his shoulders. "Decidedly, something must +be wrong," said Chicot, "five minutes for Gorenflot's supper! +I am destined to see wonders to-day." + +Chicot then advanced towards a small private room, pushed open the +door, and saw within the worthy monk, who was turning negligently +on his plate a small portion of spinach, which he tried to render +more savory by the introduction into it of some cheese. Brother +Gorenflot was about thirty-eight years of age and five feet high. +However, what he wanted in height, he made up in breadth, measuring +nearly three feet in diameter from shoulder to shoulder, which, as +everyone knows, is equal to nine feet of circumference. Between +these Herculean shoulders rose a neck of which the muscles stood +out like cords. Unluckily this neck partook of the same proportions; +it was short and thick, which at any great emotion might render +Brother Gorenflot liable to apoplexy. But knowing this, perhaps, +he never gave way to emotions, and was seldom so disturbed as +he was when Chicot entered his room. + +"Ah, my friend! what are you doing?" cried Chicot, looking at +the vegetables and at a glass filled with water just colored +with a few drops of wine. + +"You see, my brother, I sup," replied Gorenflot in a powerful +voice. + +"You call that supper, Gorenflot! Herbs and cheese?" + +"We are in the beginning of Lent, brother; we must think of our +souls," replied Gorenflot, raising his eyes to heaven. + +Chicot looked astounded; he had so often seen Gorenflot feast +in a different manner during Lent. + +"Our souls!" said he; "and what the devil have herbs and water +to do with them?" + +"We are forbidden to eat meat on Wednesdays and Fridays." + +"But when did you breakfast?" + +"I have not breakfasted, my brother," said the monk. + +"Not breakfasted! Then what have you done?" + +"Composed a discourse," said Gorenflot proudly. + +"A discourse, and what for?" + +"To deliver this evening at the abbey." + +"That is odd." + +"And I must be quick and go there, or perhaps my audience will +grow impatient." + +Chicot thought of the infinite number of monks he had seen going +to the abbey, and wondered why Gorenflot, whom certainly he had +never thought eloquent, had been chosen to preach before M. de +Mayenne and the numerous assemblage. "When are you to preach?" +said he. + +"At half-past nine." + +"Good; it is still a quarter to nine, you can give me a few minutes. +Ventre de biche! we have not dined together for a week." + +"It is not our fault, but I know that your duties keep you near +our King Henry III., while my duties fill up my time." + +"Yes, but it seems to me that is so much the more reason why we +should be merry when we do meet." + +"Yes, I am merry," said Gorenflot, with a piteous look, "but still +I must leave you." + +"At least, finish your supper." + +Gorenflot looked at the spinach, and sighed, then at the water, +and turned away his head. + +"Do you remember," said Chicot, "the little dinner at the Porte +Montmartre, where, while the king was scourging himself and others, +we devoured a teal from the marshes of the Grauge-Bateliere, +with a sauce made with crabs, and we drank that nice Burgundy +wine; what do you call it?" + +"It is a wine of my country, La Romanee." + +"Yes, yes, it was the milk you sucked as a baby, worthy son of +Noah." + +"It was good," said Gorenflot, "but there is better." + +"So says Claude Boutromet, who pretends that he has in his cellar +fifty bottles to which that is paltry." + +"It is true." + +"True, and yet you drink that abominable red water. Fie!" And +Chicot, taking the glass, threw the contents out of window. + +"There is a time for all, my brother," said Gorenflot, "and wine +is good when one has only to praise God after it, but water is +better when one has a discourse to pronounce." + +"Opinions differ, for I, who have also a discourse to pronounce, +am going to ask for a bottle of Romanee. What do you advise me +to take with it, Gorenflot?" + +"Not these herbs, they are not nice." Chicot, seizing the plate, +threw it after the water, and then cried, "Maitre Claude." + +The host appeared. + +"M. Claude, bring me two bottles of your Romanee, which you call +so good." + +"Why two bottles," said Gorenflot, "as I do not drink it?" + +"Oh! if you did I would have four or six, but if I drink alone, +two will do for me." + +"Indeed; two bottles are reasonable, and if you eat no meat with +it, your confessor will have nothing to reproach you with." + +"Oh, of course not; meat on a Friday in Lent!" And going to the +larder, he drew out a fine capon. + +"What are you doing, brother?" said Gorenflot, following his +movements with interest. + +"You see I am taking this carp." + +"Carp!" cried Gorenflot. + +"Yes, a carp," said Chicot, showing him the tempting bird. + +"And since when has a carp had a beak?" + +"A beak! do you see a beak? I only see a nose." + +"And wings?" + +"Fins!" + +"Feathers?" + +"Scales, my dear Gorenflot, you are drunk." + +"Drunk! I, who have only eaten spinach and drunk water?" + +"Well, your spinach has overloaded your stomach, and your water +has mounted to your head." + +"Parbleu! here is our host, he shall decide." + +"So be it, but first let him uncork the wine." + +M. Boutromet uncorked a bottle and gave a glass to Chicot. Chicot +swallowed and smacked his lips. + +"Ah!" said he, "I have a bad memory, I cannot remember if it +be better or worse than that at Montmartre. Here, my brother, +enlighten me," said he, giving a little to the monk, who was +looking on with eager eyes. + +Gorenflot took the glass, and drank slowly the liquor it contained. + +"It is the same wine," said he, "but I had too little to tell +whether it be better or worse." + +"But I want to know, and if you had not a sermon to preach, I +would beg you to drink a little more." + +"If it will give you pleasure, my brother." + +Chicot half filled the monk's glass. Gorenflot drank it with great +gravity. + +"I pronounce it better," said he. + +"You flatter our host." + +"A good drinker ought, at the first draught, to recognize the +wine, at the second, the quality, and, at the third, the age." + +"Oh! I should like to know the age of this wine." + +"Give me a few drops more, and I will tell you." + +Chicot filled his glass. He drank it off, and then said, "1561." + +"Right," cried Claude Boutromet, "it was 1561." + +"Brother Gorenflot," cried Chicot, "they have beatified men at +Rome who were worth less than you." + +"A little habit," said Gorenflot, modestly. + +"And talent; for I flatter myself I have the habit, and I could +not do it. But what are you about?" + +"Going to my assembly." + +"Without eating a piece of my carp?" + +"Ah I true; you know still less of eating than drinking. M. +Boutromet, what is the name of this animal?" + +The innkeeper looked astonished. "A capon," said he. + +"A capon!" cried Chicot, with an air of consternation. + +"Yes, and a fine one." + +"Well!" said Gorenflot, triumphantly. + +"Well I it seems I was wrong, but as I wish to eat this capon, +and yet not sin, be so kind, brother, as to throw a few drops +of water upon it, and christen it a carp." + +"Ah! ah!" + +"Yes, I pray you, save me from mortal sin." + +"So be it," cried Gorenflot, "but there is no water." + +"Oh! the intention is all; baptize it with wine, my brother; +the animal will be less Catholic but quite as good." And Chicot +refilled the monk's glass. The first bottle was finished. + +"In the name of Bacchus, Momus, and Comus, trinity of the great +saint Pantagruel, I baptize thee, carp," said Gorenflot. + +"Now," said Chicot, "to the health of the newly baptized; may it +be cooked to perfection, and may M. Boutromet add to the excellent +qualities which it has received from nature." + +"To his health," cried Gorenflot, interrupting a hearty laugh +to swallow his wine. + +"M. Claude, put this carp at once on the spit, cover it with +fresh butter, with shalots in it, and put some toast in the +frying-pan, and serve it hot." Gorenflot approved with a motion +of his head. + +"Now, M. Boutromet, some sardines and a tunny fish, meanwhile; +it is Lent, and I wish to make a maigre dinner. And let me have +two more bottles of wine." + +The smell of the cookery began to mount to the brain of the monk. +Yet he made a last effort to rise. + +"Then you leave me, after all?" said Chicot. + +"I must," said Gorenflot, raising his eyes to heaven. + +"It is very imprudent of you to go to pronounce a discourse fasting." + +"Why?" + +"Because your strength will fail you. Galen has said it. Pulmo +hominis facile deficit." + +"Alas! yes." + +"You see, then?" + +"Luckily, I have zeal." + +"Ah! but that is not enough; I advise you to eat some sardines, +and drink a little of this nectar." + +"A single sardine, then, and one glass." Chicot gave him the +sardine, and passed him the bottle. He himself took care to keep +sober. + +"I feel myself less feeble," said Gorenflot. + +"Oh! you must feel quite strong before you go, and so I advise +you to eat the fins of the carp." And as they entered with the +pullet, Chicot cut off a leg and thigh, which Gorenflot soon +despatched. + +"What a delicious fish!" said Gorenflot. Chicot cut off the other +leg and gave it to Gorenflot, while he ate the wings. + +"And famous wine," said he, uncorking another bottle. + +Having once commenced, Gorenflot could not stop. His appetite +was enormous; he finished the bird, and then called to Boutromet. +"M. Claude," said he, "I am hungry; did you not offer me omelet +just now?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, bring it." + +"In five minutes." + +"Ah!" said Gorenflot, "now I feel in force; if the omelet were +here, I could eat it at a mouthful, and I swallow this wine at +a gulp." And he swallowed a quarter of the third bottle. + +"Ah! you were ill before." + +"I was foolish, friend; that cursed discourse weighed on my mind; +I have been thinking of it for days." + +"It ought to be magnificent." + +"Splendid." + +"Tell me some of it while we wait for the omelet." + +"No, no; not a sermon at table." + +"We have beautiful discourses at the court, I assure you." + +"About what?" + +"About virtue." + +"Ah! yes, he is a very virtuous man, our King Henri III." + +"I do not know if he be virtuous; but I know that I have never +seen anything there to make me blush." + +"You blush!" + +At this moment M. Boutromet entered with the omelet and two more +bottles. + +"Bring it here," cried the monk, with a smile, which showed his +thirty-two teeth. + +"But, friend, I thought you had a discourse to pronounce." + +"It is here," cried Gorenflot, striking his forehead. + +"At half-past nine." + +"I lied; it was ten." + +"Ten! I thought the abbey shut at nine." + +"Let it shut; I have a key." + +"A key of the abbey!" + +"Here, in my pocket." + +"Impossible; I know the monastic rules. They would not give the +key to a simple monk." + +"Here it is," said Gorenflot, showing a piece of money. + +"Oh, money! you corrupt the porter to go in when you please, wretched +sinner! But what strange money!" + +"An effigy of the heretic, with a hole through his heart." + +"Yes, I see it is a tester of the Bearn king's, and here is a +hole." + +"A blow with a dagger. Death to the heretic. He who does it is +sure of Paradise." + +"He is not yet drunk enough;" so thought Chicot; and he filled +his glass again. + +"To the mass!" cried Gorenflot, drinking it off. + +Chicot remembered the porter looking at the hands of the monks, +and said-- + +"Then, if you show this to the porter----" + +"I enter." + +"Without difficulty?" + +"As this wine into my stomach." And the monk absorbed a new dose. + +"And you pronounce your discourse?" + +"And I pronounce my discourse. I arrive--do you hear? The assembly +is numerous and select. There are barons, counts, and dukes." + +"And even princes?" + +"And even princes. I enter humbly among the faithful of the Union----" + +"The Union--what does that mean?" + +"I enter; they call Brother Gorenflot, and I advance----" + +At these words the monk rose. "And I advance," continued he, +trying to do so, but at the first step he rolled on the floor. + +"Bravo!" cried Chicot; "you advance, you salute the audience and +say----" + +"No, it is my friends who say, Brother Gorenflot--a fine name +for a leaguer, is it not?" + +"A leaguer," thought Chicot: "what truths is this wine going to +bring out?" + +"Then I begin." And the monk rose, and leaned against the wall. + +"You begin," said Chicot, holding him up. + +"I begin, 'My brothers, it is a good day for the faith, a very +good day, my brothers; it is a very good day for the faith.'" + +After this, as Chicot loosed his hold, Gorenflot fell full length +again on the floor, and before many minutes a loud snoring was +heard. + +"Good," said Chicot, "he is in for twelve hours sleep. I can easily +undress him." + +He then untied the monk's robe, and pulled it off; then rolled +Gorenflot in the tablecloth, and covered his head with a napkin, +and hiding the monk's frock under his cloak, passed into the +kitchen. + +"M. Boutromet," said he, "here is for our supper, and for my +horse; and pray do not wake the worthy Brother Gorenflot, who +sleeps sound." + +"No, no; be easy, M. Chicot." + +Then Chicot ran to the rue St. Etienne, put on the monk's robe, +took the tester in his hand, and at a quarter to ten presented +himself, not without a beating heart, at the wicket of the Abbey +St. Genevieve. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +HOW CHICOT FOUND OUT THAT IT WAS EASIER TO GO IN THAN OUT OF THE +ABBEY. + +Chicot, from the cloak and other things under the monk's robe, +looked much larger across the shoulders than usual. His beard +was of the same color as Gorenflot's, and he had so often amused +himself with mimicking the monk's voice and manner of speaking +that he could do it perfectly. Now, everyone knows that the beard +and the voice are the only things which are recognizable from +under the depths of a monk's hood. Chicot exhibited his coin, +and was admitted without difficulty, and then followed two other +monks to the chapel of the convent. In this chapel, built in the +eleventh century, the choir was raised nine or ten feet above +the rest of the building, and you mounted into it by two lateral +staircases, while an iron door between them led from the nave to +the crypt, into which you had to descend again. In this choir +there was a portrait of St. Genevieve, and on each side of the +altar were statues of Clovis and Clotilda. + +Three lamps only lighted the chapel, and the imperfect light +gave a greater solemnity to the scene. Chicot was glad to find +that he was not the last, for three monks entered after in gray +robes, and placed themselves in front of the altar. Soon after, +a little monk, doubtless a lad belonging to the choir, came and +spoke to one of these monks, who then said, aloud,-- + +"We are now one hundred and thirty-six." + +Then a great noise of bolts and bars announced that the door +was being closed. The three monks were seated in armchairs, like +judges. The one who had spoken before now rose and said-- + +"Brother Monsoreau, what news do you bring to the Union from the +province of Anjou?" + +Two things made Chicot start, the first was the voice of the +speaker, the second the name of Monsoreau, known to the court only +the last few days. A tall monk crossed the assembly, and placed +himself in a large chair, behind the shadow of which Chicot had +kept himself. + +"My brothers," said a voice which Chicot recognized at once as that +of the chief huntsman, "the news from Anjou is not satisfactory; +not that we fail there in sympathy, but in representatives. The +progress of the Union there had been confided to the Baron de +Meridor, but he in despair at the recent death of his daughter, +has, in his grief, neglected the affairs of the league, and we +cannot at present count on him. As for myself, I bring three new +adherents to the association. The council must judge whether these +three, for whom I answer, as for myself, ought to be admitted +into the Union." + +A murmur of applause followed and as Monsoreau regained his +seat,--"Brother la Huriere," cried the same monk, "tell us what +you have done in the city of Paris." + +A man now took the chair and said, "My brothers, you know I am +devoted to the Catholic faith, and I have given proofs of this +devotion on the great day of its triumph. Yes, my brothers, I +glory in saying that I was one of the faithful of our great Henri +de Guise, and that I followed his orders strictly. I have now +noted all the heretics of the Quartier St. Germain l'Auxerrois, +where I shall hold the hotel of the Belle-Etoile, at your service, +my brothers. Now, although I no longer thirst for the blood of +heretics as formerly, I do not delude myself as to the real object +of the holy Union which we are forming. If I am not deceived, +brothers, the extinction of private heretics is not all we aim at. +We wish to be sure that we shall never be governed by a heretic +prince. Now, my friends, what is our situation? Charles IX., who +was zealous, died without children; Henri Ill. will probably +do the same, and there remains only the Duc d'Anjou, who not +only has no children either, but seems cold towards us." + +"What makes you accuse the prince thus?" said the monk who always +spoke. + +"Because he has not joined us." + +"Who tells you so, since there are new adherents?" + +"It is true; I will wait; but after him, who is mortal, and has +no children, to whom will the crown fall? To the most ferocious +Huguenot that can be imagined, to a renegade, a Nebuchadnezzar?" +Here the acclamations were tremendous. + +"To Henri of Bearn," continued he, "against whom this association +is chiefly directed--to Henri, who the people at Pau, or Tarbes, +think is occupied with his love affairs, but who is in Paris!" + +"In Paris! impossible!" cried many voices. + +"He was here on the night when Madame de Sauve was assassinated, +and perhaps is here still." + +"Death to the Bearnais!" cried several. + +"Yes, doubtless, and if he came to lodge at the Belle-Etoile, +I answer for him; but he will not come. One does not catch a +fox twice in the same hole. He will lodge with some friend, for +he has friends. The important thing is to know them. Our union +is holy, our league is loyal, consecrated and blessed by the +Pope; therefore I demand that it be no longer kept secret, but +that we go into the houses and canvass the citizens. Those who +sign will be our friends, the others our enemies, and if a second +St. Bartholomew come, which seems to the faithful to be more +necessary daily, we shall know how to separate the good from the +wicked." + +Thunders of acclamation followed. When they were calm, the monk +who always spoke said,-- + +"The proposition of Brother la Huriere, whom the union thanks +for his zeal, will be taken into consideration by the superior +council." + +La Huriere bowed, amidst fresh applause. + +"Ah! ah!" thought Chicot, "I begin to see clearly into all this. +The Guises are forming a nice little party, and some fine morning +Henri will find that he has nothing left, and will be politely +invited to enter a monastery. But what will they do with the +Duc d'Anjou?" + +"Brother Gorenflot," then cried the monk. + +No one replied. + +"Brother Gorenflot," cried the little monk, in a voice which +made Chicot start; for it sounded like a woman's. However, he +rose, and speaking like the monk, said,-- + +"Here I am; I was plunged in profound meditation." He feared +not to reply, for the members had been counted, and therefore +the absence of a member would have provoked an examination. +Therefore, without hesitation, he mounted the chair and began. + +"My brothers, you know that I purvey for the convent, and have +the right of entering every dwelling. I use this privilege for +the good of religion. My brothers," continued he, remembering +Gorenflot's beginning, "this day, which unites us, is a good +one for the faith. Let us speak freely, my brothers, since we +are in the house of God. + +"What is the kingdom of France? A body. '_Omnis civitas corpus +est_.' What is the first requisite of a body? Good health. +How do we preserve this? By prudent bleedings at times. Now it +is evident that the enemies of our religion are too strong; we +must therefore once more bleed that great body we call society. +This is what is constantly said to me by the faithful, who give +me ham, eggs, or money for the convent." + +Several murmurs of approbation interrupted Chicot, then he went +on. + +"Some may object that the church abhors blood. But they do not +say what blood, and I wager that it is not the blood of heretics +it abhors. And then another argument; I said, 'the church;' but +are we the church? Brother Monsoreau, who spoke so well just +now, has, I doubt not, his huntsman's knife in his belt. Brother +la Huriere manages the spit; I, myself, who speak to you--I, +Jacques Gorenflot, have carried the musket in Champagne. It now +remains to us to speak of our chiefs, of whom it seems to me, +poor monk as I am, that there is something to say. Certainly, it +is very well and prudent to come at night under a monk's robe, +to hear Brother Gorenflot preach; but it appears to me that their +duties do not stop there. So much prudence may make the Huguenots +laugh. Let us play a part more worthy of the brave people we are. +What do we want? The extinction of heresy. Well, that may be +cried from the housetops, it seems to me. Why not march in holy +procession, displaying our good cause, and our good partisans, +but not like the thieves, who keep looking round them to see if +the watch is coming. Who is the man who will set the example? +Well, it is I, Jacques Gorenflot; I, unworthy brother of the +order of St. Genevieve, poor and humble purveyor of the convent. +It shall be I, who with a cuirass on my back, a helmet on my +head, and a musket on my shoulder, will march at the head of +all good Catholics who will follow me. This I would do, were it +only to make those chiefs blush, who, while defending the Church, +hide, as if their cause was a bad one." + +This speech, which corresponded with the sentiments of many there, +was received with shouts of applause; and the more so, as up +to this time Gorenflot had never shown any enthusiasm for the +cause. However, it was not the plan of the chiefs to let this +enthusiasm proceed. One of the monks spoke to the lad, who cried +in his silvery voice, "My brothers, it is time to retire; the +sitting is over." + +The monks rose, all determined to insist on the procession at +the next meeting. Many approached the chair to felicitate the +author of this brilliant speech; but Chicot, fearful of being +recognized, threw himself on his knees and buried his head in +his hands, as if in prayer. They respected his devotions, and +went towards the door. However, Chicot had missed his chief aim. +What had made him quit the king was the sight of M. de Mayenne and +Nicolas David, on both of whom he had, as we know, vowed vengeance; +and although the duke was too great a man to be attacked openly, +Nicolas David was not, and Chicot was so good a swordsman as to +feel sure of success if he could but meet him. He therefore began +to watch each monk as he went out, and perceived to his terror +that each, on going out, had to show some sign again. Gorenflot +had told him how to get in, but not how to get out again. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +HOW CHICOT, FORCED TO REMAIN IN THE ABBEY, SAW AND HEARD THINGS +VERY DANGEROUS TO SEE AND HEAR. + +Chicot hastened to get down from his chair, and to mix among the +monks so as to discover, if possible, what signs they used. By +peeping over their shoulders, he found out that it was a farthing, +with a star cut in the middle. Our Gascon had plenty of farthings +in his pocket, but unluckily none with a star in it. Of course, if +when on coming to the door he was unable to produce the necessary +signs, he would be suspected and examined. He gained the shade +of a pillar, which stood at the corner of a confessional, and +stood there wondering what he should do. An assistant cried, +"Is everyone out, the doors are about to be shut." + +No one answered; Chicot peeped out and saw the chapel empty, +with the exception of the three monks, who still kept their seats +in front of the choir. + +"Provided they do not shut the windows, it is all I ask," thought +Chicot. + +"Let us examine," said the young lad to the porter. Then the +porter lifted a taper, and, followed by the young lad, began +to make the tour of the church. There was not a moment to lose. +Chicot softly opened the door of the confessional, slipped in, +and shut the door after him. They passed close by him, and he +could see them through the spaces of the sculpture. + +[Illustration: CHICOT THE JESTER.] + +"Diable!" thought he, "he cannot stay here all night, and once +they are gone, I will pile chairs upon benches, Pelion on Ossa, +and get out of the window. Ah! yes, but when I have done that, +I shall be, not in the street, but in the court. I believe it +will be better to pass the night in the confessional; Gorenflot's +robe is warm." + +"Extinguish the lamps," now cried the lad; and the porter with +an immense extinguisher put out the lamps, and left the church +dark, except for the rays of the moon which shone through the +windows. The clock struck twelve. + +"Ventre de biche!" said Chicot, "Henri, if he were here, would be +nicely frightened; but, luckily, I am less timid. Come, Chicot, +my friend, good night and sleep well." + +Then Chicot pushed the inside bolt, made himself as comfortable +as he could, and shut his eyes. He was just falling asleep, when +he was startled by a loud stroke on a copper bell, and at the +same time the lamp in the choir was relighted, and showed the +three monks still there. + +"What can this mean?" thought Chicot, starting up. Brave as he +was, Chicot was not exempt from superstitious fears. He made +the sign of the cross, murmuring, "Vade retro, Satanas!" But +as the lights did not go out at the holy sign, Chicot began to +think he had to deal with real monks and real lights; but at +this moment one of the flagstones of the choir raised itself +slowly, and a monk appeared through the opening, after which the +stone shut again. At this sight Chicot's hair stood on end, and +he began to fear that all the priors and abbes of St. Genevieve, +from Opsat, dead in 533, down to Pierre Boudin, predecessor of +the present superior, were being resuscitated from their tombs, +and were going to raise with their bony heads the stones of the +choir. But this doubt did not last long. + +"Brother Monsoreau," said one of the monks to him who had just +made so strange an appearance. + +"Yes, monseigneur," said he. + +"Open the door that he may come to us." + +Monsoreau descended to open the door between the staircases, +and at the same time the monk in the middle lowered his hood, +and showed the great scar, that noble sign by which the Parisians +recognized their hero. + +"The great Henri of Guise himself!" thought Chicot, "whom his very +imbecile majesty believes occupied at the siege of La Charite. Ah! +and he at the right is the Cardinal of Lorraine, and he at the +left M. de Mayenne--a trinity not very holy, but very visible." + +"Did you think he would come?" said La Balafre to his brothers. + +"I was so sure of it, that I have under my cloak where-with to +replace the holy vial." + +And Chicot perceived, by the feeble light of the lamp, a silver +gilt box, richly chased. Then about twenty monks, with their heads +buried in immense hoods, came out of the crypt, and stationed +themselves in the nave. A single one, conducted by M. de Monsoreau, +mounted the staircase, and placed himself at the right of M. de +Guise. Then M. de Guise spoke. "Friends," said he, "time is +precious; therefore I go straight to the point. You have heard +just now, in the first assembly, the complaints of some of our +members, who tax with coldness the principal person among us, +the prince nearest to the throne. The time is come to render +justice to this prince; you shall hear and judge for yourselves +whether your chiefs merit the reproach of coldness and apathy +made by one of our brothers, the monk Gorenflot, whom we have +not judged it prudent to admit into our secret." + +At this name, pronounced in a tone which showed bad intentions +towards the warlike monk, Chicot in his confessional could not +help laughing quietly. + +"Monsieur," said the duke, now turning towards the mysterious +personages at his right, "the will of God appears to me manifest; +for since you have consented to join us, it shows that what we +do is well done. Now, your highness, we beg of you to lower your +hood, that your faithful friends may see with their own eyes +that you keep the promise which I made in your name, and which +they hardly dared to believe." + +The mysterious personage now lowered his hood, and Chicot saw +the head of the Duc d'Anjou appear, so pale that, by the light +of the lamp, it looked like that of a marble statue. + +"Oh, oh!" thought Chicot, "the duke is not yet tired of playing +for the crown with the heads of others!" + +"Long live Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou!" cried the assembly. + +The duke grew paler than ever. + +"Fear nothing, monseigneur," said Henri de Guise; "our chapel is +deaf, and its doors are well closed." + +"My brothers," said the Comte de Monsoreau, "his highness wishes +to address a few words to the assembly." + +"Yes, yes!" cried they. + +"Gentlemen," began he, in a voice so trembling that at first +they could hardly distinguish his words, "I believe that God, +who often seems insensible and deaf to the things of this world, +keeps, on the contrary, His piercing eyes constantly on us, and +only remains thus careless in appearance in order to remedy, by +some great blow, the disorders caused by the foolish ambitions +of men. I also have kept my eyes, if not on the world, at least +on France. What have I seen there? The holy religion of Christ +shaken to its foundation by those who sap all belief, under the +pretext of drawing nearer to God, and my soul has been full of +grief. In the midst of this grief, I heard that several noble +and pious gentlemen, friends of our old faith, were trying to +strengthen the tottering altar. I threw my eyes around me, and +saw on one side the heretics, from whom I recoiled with horror; +on the other side the elect, and I am come to throw myself into +their arms. My brothers, here I am." + +The applause and bravos resounded through the chapel. Then the +cardinal, turning to the duke, said: + +"You are amongst us of your own free will?" + +"Of my free will, monsieur." + +"Who instructed you in the holy mystery?" + +"My friend, the Comte de Monsoreau, a man zealous for religion." + +"Then," said the Duc de Guise, "as your highness has joined us, +have the goodness to tell us what you intend to do for the league." + +"I intend to serve the Catholic religion in all its extent." + +"Ventre de biche!" thought Chicot, "why not propose this right +out to the king? It would suit him excellently--processions, +macerations, extirpation of heresy, fagots, and auto-da-fes! +Go on, worthy brother of his majesty, noble imbecile, go on!" + +And the duke, as if sensible of the encouragement, proceeded: +"But the interests of religion are not the sole aim which you +gentlemen propose. As for me, I see another; for when a gentleman +has thought of what he owes to God, he then thinks of his country, +and he asks himself if it really enjoys all the honor and prosperity +which it ought to enjoy. I ask this about our France, and I see +with grief that it does not. Indeed, the state is torn to pieces +by different wills and tastes, one as powerful as the other. It +is, I fear, to the feebleness of the head, which forgets that +it ought to govern all for the good of its subjects, or only +remembers this royal principle at capricious intervals, when +the rare acts of energy are generally not for the good, but the +ill of France, that we must attribute these evils. Whatever be +the cause, the ill is a real one, although I accuse certain false +friends of the king rather than the king himself. Therefore I +join myself to those who by all means seek the extinction of +heresy and the ruin of perfidious counselors." + +This discourse appeared profoundly to interest the audience, who, +throwing back their hoods, drew near to the duke. + +"Monseigneur," said the Duc de Guise, "in thanking your royal +highness for the words you have just uttered, I will add that +you are surrounded by people devoted not only to the principles +which you profess, but to the person of your highness; and if +you have any doubt, the conclusion of this sitting will convince +you." + +"Monseigneur," said the cardinal, "if your highness still experiences +any fear, the names of those who now surround you will, I hope, +reassure you. Here is M. le Gouverneur d'Aunis, M. d'Antragues, M. +de Ribeirac, and M. de Livarot, and gentlemen whom your highness +doubtless knows to be as brave as loyal. Here are, besides, M. +de Castillon, M. le Baron de Lusignan, MM. Cruce and Leclerc, +all ready to march under the guidance of your highness, to the +emancipation of religion and the throne. We shall, then, receive +with gratitude the orders that you will give us." + +Then M. de Mayenne said: "You are by your birth, and by your +wisdom, monseigneur, the natural chief of the Holy Union, and we +ought to learn from you what our conduct should be with regard +to the false friends of his majesty of whom you just now spoke." + +"Nothing more simple," replied the prince, with that feverish +excitement which in weak natures supplies the place of courage +to weak minds; "when venomous plants grow in a field, we root +them up. The king is surrounded, not with friends, but with +courtiers, who ruin him, and cause a perpetual scandal in France +and all Christendom." + +"It is true," said the Duc de Guise, in a gloomy tone. + +"And," said the cardinal, "these courtiers prevent us, who are +his majesty's true friends, from approaching him as we have the +right to do by our birth and position." + +"Let us, then," said M. de Mayenne, "leave the heretics to the +vulgar leaguers; let us think of those who annoy and insult us, +and who often fail in respect to the prince whom we honor, and +who is our chief." + +The Duc d'Anjou grew red. + +"Let us destroy," continued Mayenne, "to the last man, that cursed +race whom the king enriches, and let each of us charge ourselves +with the life of one. We are thirty here; let us count." + +"I," said D'Antragues, "charge myself with Quelus." + +"I with Maugiron," said Livarot. + +"And I with Schomberg," said Ribeirac. + +"Good!" said the duke; "and there is Bussy, my brave Bussy, who +will undertake some of them." + +"And us!" cried the rest. + +M. de Monsoreau now advanced. "Gentlemen," said he, "I claim +an instant's silence. We are resolute men, and yet we fear to +speak freely to each other; we are intelligent men, and yet we are +deterred by foolish scruples. Come, gentlemen, a little courage, +a little hardihood, a little frankness. It is not of the king's +minions that we think; there does not lie our difficulty. What we +really complain of is the royalty which we are under, and which +is not acceptable to a French nobility; prayers and despotism, +weakness and orgies, prodigality for fetes which make all Europe +laugh, and parsimony for everything that regards the state and the +arts. Such conduct is not weakness or ignorance--it is madness." + +A dead silence followed this speech. Everyone trembled at the +words which echoed his own thoughts. M. de Monsoreau went on. + +"Must we live under a king, foolish, inert, and lazy, at a time +when all other nations are active, and work gloriously, while +we sleep? Gentlemen, pardon me for saying before a prince, who +will perhaps blame my temerity (for he has the prejudices of +family), that for four years we have been governed, not by a king, +but by a monk." + +At these words the explosion so skilfully prepared and as skilfully +kept in check, burst out with violence. + +"Down with the Valois!" they cried, "down with Brother Henri! +Let us have for chief a gentleman, a knight, rather a tyrant +than a monk." + +"Gentlemen!" cried the Duc d'Anjou, hypocritically, "let me plead +for my brother, who is led away. Let me hope that our wise +remonstrances, that the efficacious intervention of the power +of the League, will bring him back into the right path." + +"Hiss, serpent, hiss," said Chicot to himself. + +"Monseigneur," replied the Duc de Guise, "your highness has heard, +perhaps rather too soon, but still you have heard, the true meaning +of the association. No! we are not really thinking of a league +against the Bearnais, nor of a league to support the Church, +which will support itself: no, we think of raising the nobility +of France from its abject condition. Too long we have been kept +back by the respect we feel for your highness, by the love which +we know you to have for your family. Now, all is revealed, +monseigneur, and your highness will assist at the true sitting +of the League. All that has passed is but preamble." + +"What do you mean, M. le Duc?" asked the prince, his heart beating +at once with alarm and ambition. + +"Monseigneur, we are united here, not only to talk, but to act. +To-day we choose a chief capable of honoring and enriching the +nobility of France; and as it was the custom of the ancient Franks +when they chose a chief to give him a present worthy of him, we +offer a present to the chief whom we have chosen." + +All hearts beat, and that of the prince most of any; yet he remained +mute and motionless, betraying his emotion only by his paleness. + +"Gentlemen," continued the duke, taking something from behind +him, "here is the present that in your name I place at the feet +of the prince." + +"A crown!" cried the prince, scarcely able to stand, "a crown +to me, gentlemen?" + +"Long live Francois III.!" cried all the gentlemen, drawing their +swords. + +"I! I!" cried the Duke, trembling with joy and terror. "It is +impossible! My brother still lives; he is the anointed of the +Lord." + +"We depose him," said the duke, "waiting for the time when God +shall sanction, by his death, the election which we are about +to make, or rather, till one of his subjects, tired of this +inglorious reign, forestalls by poison or the dagger the justice +of God." + +"Gentlemen!" said the duke, feebly. + +"Monseigneur," then said the cardinal, "to the scruple which +you so nobly expressed just now, this is our answer. Henri III. +was the anointed of the Lord, but we have deposed him; it is you +who are going to be so. Here is a temple as venerable as that +of Rheims; for here have reposed the relics of St Genevieve, +patroness of Paris; here has been embalmed the body of Clovis, +our first Christian king; well, monseigneur, in this holy temple, +I, one of the princes of the Church, and who may reasonably hope +to become one day its head, I tell you, monseigneur, that here, +to replace the holy oil, is an oil sent by Pope Gregory XIII. +Monseigneur, name your future archbishop of Rheims, name your +constable, and in an instant, it is you who will be king, and +your brother Henri, if he do not give you up the crown, will +be the usurper. Child, light the altar." + +Immediately, the lad, who was evidently waiting, came out, and +presently fifty lights shone round the altar and choir. + +Then was seen on the altar a miter glittering with precious stones, +and a large sword ornamented with fleur-de-lis. It was the +archbishop's miter and the constable's sword. At the same moment +the organ began to play the Veni Creator. This sudden stroke, +managed by the three Lorraine princes, and which the Duc d'Anjou +himself did not expect, made a profound impression on the spectators. +The courageous grew bolder than ever, and the weak grew strong. +The Duc d'Anjou raised his head, and with a firmer step than +might have been expected, walked to the altar, took the miter in +the left hand and the sword in the right, presented one to the +cardinal and the other to the duke. Unanimous applause followed +this action. + +"Now, gentlemen," said the prince to the others, "give your names +to M. de Mayenne, grand Master of France, and the day when I +ascend the throne, you shall have the cordon bleu." + +"Mordieu!" thought Chicot, "what a pity I cannot give mine; I +shall never have such another opportunity." + +"Now to the altar, sire," said the cardinal. + +"Monsieur de Monsoreau my colonel, MM. de Ribeirac and d'Antragues +my captains, and M. Livarot, my lieutenant of the guards, take +your places." + +Each of those named took the posts which, at a real coronation, +etiquette would have assigned to them. Meanwhile, the cardinal +had passed behind the altar to put on his pontifical robes; soon +he reappeared with the holy vial. Then the lad brought to him a +Bible and a cross. The cardinal put the cross on the book and +extended them towards the Duc d'Anjou, who put his hand on them, +and said,-- + +"In the presence of God, I promise to my people to maintain and +honor our holy religion as a Christian king should. And may God +and His saints aid me!" + +Then the Duc de Guise laid the sword before the altar, and the +cardinal blessed it and gave it to the prince. + +"Sire," said he, "take this sword, which is given to you with the +blessing of God, that you may resist your enemies, and protect +and defend the holy Church, which is confided to you. Take this +sword that, with it, you may exercise justice, protect the widow +and the orphan, repair disorders, so that, covering yourself +with glory by all the virtues, you will be a blessing to your +people." + +Then the prince returned the sword to the Duc de Guise, and knelt +down. The cardinal opened the gold box, and, with the point of a +golden needle, drew out some holy oil; he then said two prayers, +and taking the oil on his finger, traced with it a cross on the +head of the prince, saying, "Ungo dein regem de oleo sanctificato, +in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti." + +The lad wiped off the oil with an embroidered handkerchief. Then +the cardinal took the crown, and, holding it over the head of +the prince, said, "God crown thee with the crown of glory and +justice." Then, placing it, "Receive this crown, in the name +of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." + +All brandished their swords and cried, "Long live Francois III." + +"Sire," said the cardinal, "you reign henceforth over France." + +"Gentlemen," said the prince, "I shall never forget the names +of the thirty gentlemen who first judged me worthy to reign over +them; and now adieu, and may God have you in His holy keeping." + +The Duc de Mayenne led away the new king, while the other two +brothers exchanged an ironical smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +HOW CHICOT LEARNED GENEALOGY. + +When the Duc d'Anjou was gone, and had been followed by all the +others, the three Guises entered the vestry. Chicot, thinking +of course this was the end, got up to stretch his limbs, and +then, as it was nearly two o'clock, once more disposed himself +to sleep. + +But to his great astonishment, the three brothers almost immediately +came back again, only this time without their frocks. On seeing +them appear, the lad burst into so hearty a fit of laughing, +that Chicot could hardly help laughing also. + +"Do not laugh so loud, sister," said the Duc de Mayenne, "they +are hardly gone out, and might hear you." + +As he spoke, the seeming lad threw back his hood, and displayed +a head as charming and intelligent as was ever painted by Leonardo +da Vinci. Black eyes, full of fun, but which could assume an +expression almost terrible in its seriousness, a little rosy +month, and a round chin terminating the perfect oval of a rather +pale face. It was Madame de Montpensier, a dangerous syren, who +had the soul of a demon with the face of an angel. + +"Ah, brother cardinal," cried she, "how well you acted the holy +man! I was really afraid for a minute that you were serious; +and he letting himself be greased and crowned. Oh, how horrid +he looked with his crown on!" + +"Never mind," said the duke, "we have got what we wanted, and +Francois cannot now deny his share. Monsoreau, who doubtless +had his own reasons for it, led the thing on well, and now he +cannot abandon us, as he did La Mole and Coconnas." + +Chicot saw that they had been laughing at M. d'Anjou, and as he +detested him, would willingly have embraced them for it, always +excepting M. de Mayenne, and giving his share to his sister. + +"Let us return to business," said the cardinal, "is all well +closed?" + +"Oh, yes!" said the duchess, "but if you like I will go and see." + +"Oh, no; you must be tired." + +"No; it was too amusing." + +"Mayenne, you say he is here?" + +"Yes." + +"I did not see him." + +"No, he is hidden in a confessional." + +These words startled Chicot fearfully. + +"Then he has heard and seen all?" asked the duke. + +"Never mind, he is one of us." + +"Bring him here, Mayenne." + +Mayenne descended the staircase and came straight to where Chicot +was hiding. He was brave, but now his teeth chattered with terror. +"Ah," thought he, trying to get out his sword from under his +monk's frock, "at least I will kill him first!" The duke had +already extended his hand to open the door, when Chicot heard +the duchess say: + +"Not there, Mayenne; in that confessional to the left." + +"It was time," thought Chicot, as the duke turned away, "but who +the devil can the other be?" + +"Come out, M. David," said Mayenne, "we are alone." + +"Here I am, monseigneur," said he, coming out. + +"You have heard all?" asked the Duc de Guise. + +"I have not lost a word, monseigneur." + +"Then you can report it to the envoy of his Holiness Gregory XIII.?" + +"Everything." + +"Now, Mayenne tells me you have done wonders for us; let us see." + +"I have done what I promised, monseigneur; that is to say, found +a method of seating you, without opposition, on the throne of +France!" + +"They also!" thought Chicot; "everyone wants then to be King of +France!" + +Chicot was gay now, for he felt safe once more, and he had discovered +a conspiracy by which he hoped to ruin his two enemies. + +"To gain a legitimate right is everything," continued Nicolas +David, "and I have discovered that you are the true heirs, and +the Valois only a usurping branch." + +"It is difficult to believe," said the duke, "that our house, +however illustrious it may be, comes before the Valois." + +"It is nevertheless proved, monseigneur," said David, drawing +out a parchment. The duke took it. + +"What is this?" said he. + +"The genealogical tree of the house of Lorraine." + +"Of which the root is?" + +"Charlemagne, monseigneur." + +"Charlemagne!" cried the three brothers, with an air of incredulous +satisfaction, "Impossible!" + +"Wait, monseigneur; you may be sure I have not raised a point to +which any one may give the lie. What you want is a long lawsuit, +during which you can gain over, not the people, they are yours, +but the parliament. See, then, monseigneur, here it is. Ranier, +first Duc de Lorraine, contemporary with Charlemagne;--Guibert, +his son;--Henri, son of Guibert----" + +"But----" said the duke. + +"A little patience, monseigneur. Bonne----" + +"Yes," said the duke, "daughter of Ricin, second son of Ranier." + +"Good; to whom married?" + +"Bonne?" + +"Yes." + +"To Charles of Lorraine, son of Louis IV., King of France." + +"Just so. Now add, 'brother of Lothaire, despoiled of the crown +of France by the usurper, Hugh Capet.'" + +"Oh! oh!" said the duke and the cardinal. + +"Now, Charles of Lorraine inherited from his brother Lothaire. +Now, the race of Lothaire is extinct, therefore you are the only +true heirs of the throne." + +"What do you say to that, brother?" cried the cardinal. + +"I say, that unluckily there exists in France a law they call +the Salic law, which destroys all our pretensions." + +"I expected that objection, monseigneur," said David, "but what +is the first example of the Salic law?" + +"The accession of Philippe de Valois, to the prejudice of Edward +of England." + +"What was the date of that accession?" + +"1328," said the cardinal. + +"That is to say, 341 years after the usurpation of Hugh Capet, +240 years after the extinction of the race of Lothaire. Then, for +240 years your ancestors had already had a right to the throne +before the Salic law was invented. Now, everyone knows that +the law cannot have any retrospective effect." + +"You are a clever man, M. David," said the Duc de Guise. + +"It is very ingenious," said the cardinal. + +"It is very fine," said Mayenne. + +"It is admirable," said the duchess; "then I am a princess royal. +I will have no one less than the Emperor of Germany for a husband." + +"Well; here are your 200 gold crowns which I promised you." + +"And here are 200 others," said the cardinal, "for the new mission +with which we are about to charge you." + +"Speak, monseigneur, I am ready." + +"We cannot commission you to carry this genealogy yourself to +our holy Father, Gregory XIII." + +"Alas! no; my will is good, but I am of too poor birth." + +"Yes, it is a misfortune. We must therefore send Pierre de Gondy +on this mission." + +"Permit me to speak," said the duchess. "The Gondys are clever, +no doubt, but ambitious, and not to be trusted." + +"Oh! reassure yourself. Gondy shall take this, but mixed with +other papers, and not knowing what he carries. The Pope will +approve, or disapprove, silently, and Gondy will bring us back +the answer, still in ignorance of what he brings. You, Nicolas +David, shall wait for him at Chalons, Lyons, or Avignon, according +to your instructions. Thus you alone will know our true secret." + +Then the three brothers shook hands, embraced their sister, put +on again their monk's robes, and disappeared. Behind them the +porter drew the bolts, and then came in and extinguished the +lights, and Chicot heard his retreating steps fainter and fainter, +and all was silent. + +"It seems now all is really over," thought Chicot, and he came +out of the confessional. He had noticed in a corner a ladder +destined to clean the windows. He felt about until he found it, +for it was close to him, and by the light of the moon placed it +against the window. He easily opened it, and striding across it +and drawing the ladder to him with that force and address which +either fear or joy always gives, he drew it from the inside to +the outside. When he had descended, he hid the ladder in a hedge, +which was planted at the bottom of the wall, jumped from tomb to +tomb, until he reached the outside wall over which he clambered. +Once in the street he breathed more freely; he had escaped with +a few scratches from the place where he had several times felt +his life in danger. He went straight to the Corne d'Abondance, +at which he knocked. It was opened by Claude Boutromet himself, +who knew him at once, although he went out dressed as a cavalier, +and returned attired as a monk. + +"Ah! is it you?" cried he. + +Chicot gave him a crown, and asked for Gorenflot. + +The host smiled, and said, "Look!" + +Brother Gorenflot lay snoring just in the place where Chicot had +left him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +HOW M. AND MADAME DE ST. LUC MET WITH A TRAVELING COMPANION. + +The next morning, about the time when Gorenflot woke from his nap, +warmly rolled in his frock, our reader, if he had been traveling +on the road from Paris to Angers, might have seen a gentleman +and his page, riding quietly side by side. These cavaliers had +arrived at Chartres the evening before, with foaming horses, one +of which had fallen with fatigue, as they stopped. They entered +the inn, and half an hour after set out on fresh horses. Once in +the country, still bare and cold, the taller of the two approached +the other, and said, as he opened his arms: "Dear little wife, +embrace me, for now we are safe." + +Then Madame de St. Luc, leaning forward and opening her thick +cloak, placed her arms round the young man's neck and gave him +the long and tender kiss which he had asked for. They stayed +the night in the little village of Courville four leagues only +from Chartres, but which from its isolation seemed to them a +secure retreat; and it was on the following morning that they +were, as we said, pursuing their way. This day, as they were +more easy in their minds, they traveled no longer like fugitives, +but like schoolboys seeking for moss, for the first few early +flowers, enjoying the sunshine and amused at everything. + +"Morbleu!" cried St. Luc, at last, "how delightful it is to be +free. Have you ever been free, Jeanne?" + +"I?" cried she, laughing, "never; it is the first time I ever +felt so. My father was suspicious, and my mother lazy. I never +went out without a governess and two lackeys, so that I do not +remember having run on the grass, since, when a laughing child, +I ran in the woods of Meridor with my dear Diana, challenging +her to race, and rushing through the branches. But you, dear +St. Luc; you were free, at least?" + +"I, free?" + +"Doubtless, a man." + +"Never. Brought up with the Duc d'Anjou, taken by him to Poland, +brought back to Paris, condemned never to leave him by the perpetual +rule of etiquette; pursued, if I tried to go away, by that doleful +voice, crying, 'St. Luc, my friend, I am ennuye, come and amuse +me.' Free, with that stiff corset which strangled me, and that +great ruff which scratched my neck! No, I have never been free +till now, and I enjoy it." + +"If they should catch us, and send us to the Bastile?" + +"If they only put us there together, we can bear it." + +"I do not think they would. But there is no fear, if you only knew +Meridor, its great oaks, and its endless thickets, its rivers, +its lakes, its flower-beds and lawns; and, then, in the midst of +all, the queen of this kingdom, the beautiful, the good Diana. +And I know she loves me still; she is not capricious in her +friendships. Think of the happy life we shall lead there." + +"Let us push on; I am in haste to get there," and they rode on, +stayed the night at Mans, and then set off for Meridor. They +had already reached the woods and thought themselves in safety, +when they saw behind them a cavalier advancing at a rapid pace. +St. Luc grew pale. + +"Let us fly," said Jeanne. + +"Yes; let us fly, for there is a plume on that hat which disquiets +me; it is of a color much in vogue at the court, and he looks +to me like an ambassador from our royal master." + +But to fly was easier to say than to do; the trees grew so thickly +that it was impossible to ride through them but slowly, and the +soil was so sandy that the horses sank into it at every step. +The cavalier gained upon them rapidly, and soon they heard his +voice crying,-- + +"Eh, monsieur, do not run away; I bring you something you have +lost." + +"What does he say?" asked Jeanne. + +"He says we have lost something." + +"Eh! monsieur," cried the unknown, again, "you left a bracelet +in the hotel at Courville. Diable! a lady's portrait; above all, +that of Madame de Cosse. For the sake of that dear mamma, do +not run away." + +"I know that voice," said St. Luc. + +"And then he speaks of my mother." + +"It is Bussy!" + +"The Comte de Bussy, our friend," and they reined up their horses. + +"Good morning, madame," said Bussy, laughing, and giving her the +bracelet. + +"Have you come from the king to arrest us?" + +"No, ma foi, I am not sufficiently his majesty's friend for such +a mission. No, I found your bracelet at the hotel, which showed +me that you preceded me on my way." + +"Then," said St. Luc, "it is chance which brings you on our path." + +"Chance, or rather Providence." + +Every remaining shadow of suspicion vanished before the sincere +smile and bright eyes of the handsome speaker. + +"Then you are traveling?" asked Jeanne. + +"I am." + +"But not like us?" + +"Unhappily; no." + +"I mean in disgrace. Where are you going?" + +"Towards Angers, and you?" + +"We also." + +"Ah! I should envy your happiness if envy were not so vile." + +"Eh! M. de Bussy, marry, and you will be as happy as we are," +said Jeanne; "it is so easy to be happy when you are loved." + +"Ah! madame, everyone is not so fortunate as you." + +"But you, the universal favorite." + +"To be loved by everyone is as though you were loved by no one, +madame." + +"Well, let me marry you, and you will know the happiness you deny." + +"I do not deny the happiness, only that it does not exist for me." + +"Shall I marry you?" + +"If you marry me according to your taste, no; if according to +mine, yes." + +"Are you in love with a woman whom you cannot marry?" + +"Comte," said Bussy, "beg your wife not to plunge dagger in my +heart." + +"Take care, Bussy; you will make me think it is with her you are +in love." + +"If it were so, you will confess, at least, that I am a lover +not much to be feared." + +"True," said St. Luc, remembering how Bussy had brought him his +wife. "But confess, your heart is occupied." + +"I avow it." + +"By a love, or by a caprice?" asked Jeanne. + +"By a passion, madame." + +"I will cure you." + +"I do not believe it." + +"I will marry you." + +"I doubt it." + +"And I will make you as happy as you ought to be." + +"Alas! madame, my only happiness now is to be unhappy." + +"I am very determined." + +"And I also." + +"Well, will you accompany us?" + +"Where are you going?" + +"To the chateau of Meridor." + +The blood mounted to the cheeks of Bussy, and then he grew so +pale, that his secret would certainly have been betrayed, had not +Jeanne been looking at her husband with a smile. Bussy therefore +had time to recover himself, and said,-- + +"Where is that?" + +"It is the property of one of my best friends." + +"One of your best friends, and--are they at home?" + +"Doubtless," said Jeanne, who was completely ignorant of the +events of the last two months; "but have you never heard of the +Baron de Meridor, one of the richest noblemen in France, and +of----" + +"Of what?" + +"Of his daughter, Diana, the most beautiful girl possible?" + +Bussy was filled with astonishment, asking himself by what singular +happiness he found on the road people to talk to him of Diana de +Meridor to echo the only thought which he had in his mind. + +"Is this castle far off, madame?" asked he. + +"About seven leagues, and we shall sleep there to-night; you will +come, will you not?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"Come, that is already a step towards the happiness I promised +you." + +"And the baron, what sort of a man is he?" + +"A perfect gentleman, a preux chevalier, who, had he lived in +King Arthur's time, would have had a place at his round table." + +"And," said Bussy, steadying his voice, "to whom is his daughter +married?" + +"Diana married?" + +"Would that be extraordinary?" + +"Of course not, only I should have been the first to hear of it." + +Bussy could not repress a sigh. "Then," said he, "you expect +to find Mademoiselle de Meridor at the chateau with her father?" + +"We trust so." + +They rode on a long time in silence, and at last Jeanne cried: + +"Ah! there are the turrets of the castle. Look, M. de Bussy, +through that great leafless wood, which in a month, will be so +beautiful; do you not see the roof?" + +"Yes," said Bussy, with an emotion which astonished himself; "and +is that the chateau of Meridor?" + +And he thought of the poor prisoner shut up in the Rue St. Antoine. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE OLD MAN. + +Two hours after they reached the castle. Bussy had been debating +within himself whether or not to confide to his friends what +he knew about Diana. But there was much that he could tell to +no one, and he feared their questions, and besides, he wished +to enter Meridor as a stranger. + +Madame de St. Luc was surprised, when the report sounded his +horn to announce a visit, that Diana did not run as usual to meet +them, but instead of her appeared an old man, bent and leaning +on a stick, and his white hair flying in the wind. He crossed +the drawbridge, followed by two great dogs, and when he drew +quite near, said in a feeble voice,-- + +"Who is there, and who does a poor old man the honor to visit +him?" + +"It is I, Seigneur Augustin!" cried the laughing voice of the +young woman. + +But the baron, raising his head slowly, said, "You? I do not see. +Who is it?" + +"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Jeanne, "do you not know me? It is true, +my disguise----" + +"Excuse me," said the old man, "but I can see little; the eyes +of old men are not made for weeping, and if they weep too much, +the tears burn them." + +"Must I tell you my name? I am Madame de St. Luc." + +"I do not know you." + +"Ah! but my maiden name was Jeanne de Cosse-Brissac." + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" cried the old man, trying to open the gate with +his trembling hands. Jeanne, who did not understand this strange +reception, still attributed it only to his declining faculties; +but, seeing that he remembered her, jumped off her horse to embrace +him, but as she did so she felt his cheek wet with tears. + +"Come," said the old man, turning towards the house, without +even noticing the others. The chateau had a strange sad look; +all the blinds were down, and no one was visible. + +"Is Diana unfortunately not at home?" asked Jeanne. The old man +stopped, and looked at her with an almost terrified expression. +"Diana!" said he. At this name the two dogs uttered a mournful +howl. "Diana!" repeated the old man; "do you not, then, know?" + +And his voice, trembling before, was extinguished in a sob. + +"But what has happened?" cried Jeanne, clasping her hands. + +"Diana is dead!" cried the old man, with a torrent of tears. + +"Dead!" cried Jeanne, growing as pale as death. + +"Dead," thought Bussy; "then he has let him also think her dead. +Poor old man! how he will bless me some day!" + +"Dead!" cried the old man again; "they killed her." + +"Ah, my dear baron!" cried Jeanne, bursting into tears, and throwing +her arms round the old man's neck. + +"But," said he at last, "though desolate and empty, the old house +is none the less hospitable. Enter." + +Jeanne took the old man's arm, and they went into the dining-hall, +where he sunk into his armchair. At last, he said, "You said +you were married; which is your husband?" + +M. de St. Luc advanced and bowed to the old man, who tried to +smile as he saluted him; then, turning to Bussy, said, "And this +gentleman?" + +"He is our friend, M. Louis de Clermont, Comte de Bussy d'Amboise, +gentleman of M. le Duc d'Anjou." + +At these words the old man started up, threw a withering glance +at Bussy, and then sank back with a groan. + +"What is it?" said Jeanne. + +"Does the baron know you, M. de Bussy?" asked St. Luc. + +"It is the first time I ever had the honor of seeing M. de Meridor," +said Bussy, who alone understood the effect which the name of the +Duc d'Anjou had produced on the old man. + +"Ah! you a gentleman of the Duc d'Anjou!" cried the baron, "of +that monster, that demon, and you dare to avow it, and have the +audacity to present yourself here!" + +"Is he mad?" asked St. Luc of his wife. + +"Grief must have turned his brain," replied she, in terror. + +"Yes, that monster!" cried he again; "the assassin who killed +my child! Ah, you do not know," continued he, taking Jeanne's +hands; "but the duke killed my Diana, my child--he killed her!" + +Tears stood in Bussy's eyes, and Jeanne said: + +"Seigneur, were it so, which I do not understand, you cannot +accuse M. de Bussy of this dreadful crime--he, who is the most +noble and generous gentleman living. See, my good father, he weeps +with us. Would he have come had he known how you would receive +him? Ah, dear baron, tell us how this catastrophe happened." + +"Then you did not know?" said the old man to Bussy. + +"Eh, mon Dieu! no," cried Jeanne, "we none of us knew." + +"My Diana is dead, and her best friend did not know it! Oh, it +is true! I wrote to no one; it seemed to me that everything must +die with her. Well, this prince, this disgrace to France, saw +my Diana, and, finding her so beautiful, had her carried away +to his castle of Beauge to dishonor her. But Diana, my noble +and sainted Diana, chose death instead. She threw herself from +the window into the lake, and they found nothing but her veil +floating on the surface." And the old man finished with a burst +of sobs which overwhelmed them all. + +"Oh, comte," cried St. Luc, "you must abandon this infamous prince; +a noble heart like yours cannot remain friendly to a ravisher +and an assassin!" + +But Bussy instead of replying to this, advanced to M. de Meridor. + +"M. le Baron," said he, "will you grant me the honor of a private +interview?" + +"Listen to M. de Bussy, dear seigneur," said Jeanne; "you will +see that he is good and may help you." + +"Speak, monsieur," said the baron, trembling. + +Bussy turned to St. Luc and his wife, and said: + +"Will you permit me?" + +The young couple went out, and then Bussy said: "M. le Baron, +you have accused the prince whom I serve in terms which force +me to ask for an explanation. Do not mistake the sense in which +I speak; it is with the most profound sympathy, and the most +earnest desire to soften your griefs, that I beg of you to recount +to me the details of this dreadful event. Are you sure all hope +is lost?" + +"Monsieur, I had once a moment's hope. A noble gentleman, M. de +Monsoreau, loved my poor daughter, and interested himself for +her." + +"M. de Monsoreau! Well, what was his conduct in all this!" + +"Ah, generous; for Diana had refused his hand. He was the first +to tell me of the infamous projects of the duke; he showed me +how to baffle them, only asking, if he succeeded, for her hand. +I gave my consent with joy; but alas! it was useless--he arrived +too late--my poor Diana had saved herself by death!" + +"And since then, what have you heard of him?" + +"It is a month ago, and the poor gentleman has not dared to appear +before me, having failed in his generous design." + +"Well, monsieur," said Bussy, "I am charged by the Duc d'Anjou +to bring you to Paris, where his highness desires to speak to +you." + +"I!" cried the baron, "I see this man! And what can the murderer +have to say to me?" + +"Who knows? To justify himself perhaps." + +"No, M. de Bussy, no, I will not go to Paris; it would be too +far away from where my child lies in her cold bed." + +"M. le Baron," said Bussy firmly, "I have come expressly to take +you to Paris, and it is my duty to do so." + +"Well, I will go," cried the old man, trembling with anger; +"but woe to those who bring me. The king will hear me, or, if +he will not, I will appeal to all the gentlemen of France. Yes, +M. de Bussy, I will accompany you." + +"And I, M. le Baron," said Bussy, taking his hand, "recommend to +you the patience and calm dignity of a Christian nobleman. God +is merciful to noble hearts, and you know not what He reserves +for you. I beg you also, while waiting for that day, not to count +me among your enemies, for you do not know what I will do for +you. Till to-morrow, then, baron, and early in the morning we +will set off." + +"I consent," replied the old baron, moved by Bussy's tone and +words; "but meanwhile, friend or enemy, you are my guest, and +I will show you to your room." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +HOW REMY-LE-HAUDOUIN HAD, IN BUSSY'S ABSENCE, ESTABLISHED A +COMMUNICATION WITH THE RUE ST. ANTOINE. + +M. and Madame de St. Luc could hardly recover from their surprise. +Bussy, holding secret interviews with M. de Meridor, and then +setting off with him for Paris, appearing to take the lead in +a matter which at first seemed strange and unknown to him, was +to the young people an inexplicable phenomenon. In the morning +the baron took leave of his guests, begging them to remain in +the castle. Before Bussy left, however, he whispered a few words +to Madame de St. Luc, which brought the color to her cheeks, +and smiles to her eyes. + +It was a long way from Meridor to Paris, especially for the old +baron, covered with wounds from all his battles, and for his old +horse, whom he called Jarnac. Bussy studied earnestly during +the journey to find his way to the heart of the old man by his +care and attentions, and without doubt he succeeded, for on the +sixth morning, as they arrived at Paris, M. de Meridor said: + +"It is singular, count, but I feel less unquiet at the end than +at the beginning of my journey." + +"Two hours more, M. le Baron, and you shall have judged me as +I deserve." + +"Where are we going--to the Louvre?" + +"Let me first take you to my hotel, that you may refresh yourself +a little, and be fit to see the person to whom I am leading you." + +The count's people had been very much alarmed at his long absence, +for he had set off without telling any one but Remy. Thus their +delight on seeing him again was great, and they all crowded round +him with joyous exclamations. He thanked them, and then said, +"Now assist this gentleman to dismount, and remember that I look +upon him with more respect than a prince." + +When M. de Meridor had been shown to his room, and had had some +refreshment, he asked if they should set out. + +"Soon, baron; and be easy--it will be a happiness for you as well +as for us." + +"You speak in a language which I do not understand." + +Bussy smiled, and left the room to seek Remy. + +"Well! dear Hippocrates!" said he, "is there anything new?" + +"Nothing; all goes well." + +"Then the husband has not returned?" + +"Yes, he has, but without success. It seems there is a father +who is expected to turn up to make the denouement." + +"Good," said Bussy, "but how do you know all this?" + +"Why, monseigneur, as your absence made my position a sinecure, +I thought I would try to make some little use of my time; so +I took some books and a sword to a little room which I hired +at the corner of the Rue St. Antoine, from whence I could see +the house that you know." + +"Very good." + +"But as I feared, if I were constantly watching, to pass for a +spy, I thought it better to fall in love." + +"In love?" + +"Oh yes, desperately with Gertrude; she is a fine girl, only two +inches taller than myself, and who recounts, capitally." + +"Recounts?" + +"Yes; through her I know all that passes with her mistress. I +thought you might not dislike to have communications with the +house." + +"Remy, you are a good genius, whom chance, or rather Providence, +has placed in my way. Then you are received in the house?" + +"Last night I made my entrance on the points of my toes, by the +door you know." + +"And how did you manage it?" + +"Quite naturally. The day after you left, I waited at my door +till the lady of my thoughts came out to buy provisions, which +she does every morning. She recognized me, uttered a cry, and +ran away." + +"Then?" + +"Then I ran after her, but could hardly catch her, for she runs +fast; but still, petticoats are always a little in the way. 'Mon +Dieu!' cried she. 'Holy Virgin!' said I. 'The doctor!' 'The charming +housekeeper.' She smiled, but said, 'You are mistaken, monsieur, +I do not know you.' 'But I know you,' I replied, 'and for the +last three days I have lived but for you, and I adore you so +much, that I no longer live in the Rue Beautreillis, but at the +corner of this street, and I changed my lodging only to see you +pass in and out.'" + +"So that now you are----" + +"As happy as a lover can be--with Gertrude." + +"Does she suspect you come from me?" + +"Oh no, how should the poor doctor know a great lord like M. de +Bussy. No, I said, 'And how is your young master?' 'What young +master?' 'The one I cured.' 'He is not my master.' 'Oh! I thought, +as he was in your mistress's bed----' 'Oh! no, poor young man! +we have only seen him once since.' 'Do you know his name?' 'Oh! +yes; he is the Seigneur de Bussy.' 'What! the brave Bussy?' 'Yes +himself.' 'And your mistress?' 'Oh! she is married!' 'Yes, but +still she may think sometimes of a handsome young man when she +has seen him lying wounded in her bed.' 'Oh, to be frank, I do +not say she does not think of him; we talk of him very often.' +'What do you say about him?' I asked. 'I recount all I hear about +his prowess, and I have even taught her a little song about him, +which she sings constantly.'" Bussy pressed the young man's +hand; he felt supremely happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER. + +On descending into the court, M. de Meridor found a fresh horse, +which Bussy had had prepared for him; another waited for Bussy, +and attended by Remy, they started. As they went along, the baron +could not but ask himself by what strange confidence he had +accompanied, almost blindly, the friend of the prince to whom +he owed all his misfortunes. Would it not have been better to +have braved the Duc d'Anjou, and instead of following Bussy where +it pleased him to lead, to have gone at once to the Louvre, and +thrown himself at the feet of the king? What could the prince +say to him? How could he console him? Could soft words heal his +wound? + +When they stopped, "What," said the baron, "does the Duc d'Anjou +live in this humble house?" + +"Not exactly, monsieur, but if it is not his dwelling, it is that +of a lady whom he has loved." + +A cloud passed over the face of the old gentleman. "Monsieur," +said he, "we provincials are not used to the easy manners of +Paris; they annoy us. It seems to me that if the Duc d'Anjou +wishes to see the Baron de Meridor, it ought to be at his palace, +and not at the house of one of his mistresses." + +"Come, come, baron!" said Bussy, with his smile, which always +carried conviction with it, "do not hazard false conjectures. On +my honor, the lady who you are going to see is perfectly virtuous +and worthy in all respects." + +"Who is she then?" + +"She is the wife of a friend of yours." + +"Really! but then, monsieur, why did you say the duke loved her?" + +"Because I always speak truth. But enter, and you shall see +accomplished all I have promised you." + +"Take care; I wept for my child, and you said, 'Console yourself, +monsieur, the mercy of God is great;' to promise me a consolation +to my grief was almost to promise me a miracle." + +"Enter, monsieur," said Bussy, with his bright smile. Bussy went +in first, and, running up to Gertrude, said, "Go and tell Madame +de Monsoreau that M. de Bussy is here, and desires to speak to +her. But," continued he, in a low voice, "not a word of the +person who accompanies me." + +"Madame de Monsoreau!" said the old man in astonishment. But +as he feebly mounted the staircase, he heard the voice of Diana +crying,-- + +"M. de Bussy. Gertrude? Oh! let him come in!" + +"That voice!" cried the baron, stopping. "Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" + +At that moment, as the baron tremblingly held on to the banister, +and looked around him, he saw at the top of the staircase, Diana, +smiling, and more beautiful that ever. At this sight the old man +uttered a cry and would have fallen, had he not caught hold of +Bussy, who stood by him. + +"Diana alive! Diana, oh, my God!" + +"Mon Dieu! M. de Bussy!" cried Diana, running down, "what is the +matter with my father?" + +"He thought you dead, madame, and he wept, as a father must weep +for a daughter like you." + +"How!" cried Diana; "and no one undeceived him?" + +"No one." + +"No," cried the old man, recovering a little, "no one, not even +M. de Bussy." + +"Ungrateful," said Bussy. + +"Oh! yes! you are right; for this moment repays me for all my +griefs. Oh! my Diana! my beloved Diana!" cried he, drawing his +daughter to him with one hand, and extending the other to Bussy. +But all at once he cried, "But you said I was to see Madame de +Monsoreau. Where is she?" + +"Alas! my father!" cried Diana. + +Bussy summoned up all his strength. "M. de Monsoreau is your +son-in-law," he said. + +"What! my son-in-law! and every one--even you, Diana--left me +in ignorance." + +"I feared to write, my father; he said my letters would fall +into the hands of the prince. Besides, I thought you knew all." + +"But why all these strange mysteries?" + +"Ah, yes, my father; why did M. de Monsoreau let you think me +dead, and not let you know I was his wife?" + +The baron, overwhelmed, looked from Bussy to Diana. + +"M. de Monsoreau my son-in-law!" stammered he. + +"That cannot astonish you, father; did you not order me to marry +him?" + +"Yes, if he saved you." + +"Well! he did save me," said Diana, sinking on to a chair, "not +from misfortune, but from shame." + +"Then why did he let me think you dead? I, who wept for you so +bitterly. Why did he let me die of despair, when a single word +would have restored me?" + +"Oh! there is some hidden mystery," cried Diana; "my father, +you will not leave me again; M. de Bussy, you will protect us." + +"Alas! madame! it belongs to me no more to enter into your family +secrets. Seeing the strange maneuvers of your husband, I wished +to bring you a defender; you have your father, I retire." + +"He is right," said the old man, sadly. + +"M. de Monsoreau feared the Duc d'Anjou, and so does M. de Bussy." + +Diana cast a glance at the young man. He smiled and said, "M. +le Baron, excuse, I beg, the singular question I am about to +ask; and you also, madame, for I wish to serve you. M. le Baron, +ask Madame de Monsoreau if she be happy in the marriage which +she has contracted in obedience to your orders." + +Diana burst into tears for her only answer. The eyes of the baron +filled also, for he began to fear that his friendship for M. de +Monsoreau had tended to make his daughter unhappy. + +"Now!" said Bussy, "is it true that you voluntarily promised him +your daughter's hand?" + +"Yes, if he saved her." + +"And he did save her. Then, monsieur, I need not ask if you mean +to keep your promise." + +"It is a law for all, and above all for gentlemen; you know that, +M. de Bussy. My daughter must be his." + +"Ah!" cried Diana, "would I were dead!" + +"Madame," said Bussy, "you see I was right, and that I can do +no more here. M. le Baron gives you to M. de Monsoreau, and you +yourself promised to marry him when you should see your father +again safe and well." + +"Ah! you tear my heart, M. de Bussy," cried Diana, approaching +the young man; "my father does not know that I fear this man, +that I hate him; my father sees in him only my saviour, and I +think him my murderer." + +"Diana! Diana!" cried the baron, "he saved you." + +"Yes," cried Bussy, "but if the danger were less great than you +thought; what do we know? There is some mystery in all this, +which I must clear up. But I protest to you, that if I had had +the happiness to be in the place of M. de Monsoreau, I would +have saved your young and beautiful daughter without exacting +a price for it." + +"He loved her," said M. de Meridor, trying to excuse him. + +"And I, then----" cried Bussy; and, although he stopped, frightened +at what he was about to say, Diana heard and understood. + +"Well!" cried she, reddening, "my brother, my friend, can you +do nothing for me?" + +"But the Duc d'Anjou," said the baron. + +"I am not aware of those who fear the anger of princes," said +Bussy; "and, besides, I believe the danger lies not with him, +but with M. de Monsoreau." + +"But if the duke learns that Diana is alive, all is lost." + +"I see," said Bussy, "you believe M. de Monsoreau more than me. +Say no more; you refuse my aid; throw yourself, then, into the +arms of the man who has already so well merited your confidence. +Adieu, baron; adieu, madame, you will see me no more." + +"Oh!" cried Diana, taking his hand. "Have you seen me waver for +an instant; have you ever seen me soften towards him? No. I beg +you, on my knees, M. de Bussy, not to abandon me." + +Bussy seized her hands, and all his anger melted away like snow +before the sun. + +"Then so be it, madame," said he; "I accept the mission, and +in three days--for I must have time to go to Chartres to the +prince--you shall see me again." Then, in a low tone to her, he +said, "We are allied against this Monsoreau; remember that it +was not he who brought you back to your father, and be faithful +to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +HOW BROTHER GORENFLOT AWOKE, AND THE RECEPTION HE MET WITH AT +HIS CONVENT. + +Chicot, after seeing with pleasure that Gorenflot still slept +soundly, told M. Boutromet to retire and to take the light with +him, charging him not to say anything of his absence. Now M. +Boutromet, having remarked that, in all transactions between the +monk and Chicot, it was the latter who paid, had a great deal of +consideration for him, and promised all he wished. Then, by the +light of the fire which still smouldered, he wrapped Gorenflot +once more in his frock, which he accomplished without eliciting +any other signs of wakefulness than a few grunts, and afterwards +making a pillow of the table-cloth and napkins, lay down to sleep +by his side. Daylight, when it came, succeeded in at last awakening +Gorenflot, who sat up, and began to look about him, at the remains +of their last night's repast, and at Chicot, who, although also +awake, lay pretending to snore, while, in reality, he watched. + +"Broad daylight!" said the monk. "Corbleu, I must have passed +the night here. And the abbey! Oh, dear! How happy he is to sleep +thus!" cried he, looking at Chicot. "Ah! he is not in my position," +and he sighed. "Shall I wake him to ask for advice? No, no, he +will laugh at me; I can surely invent a falsehood without him. +But whatever I invent, it will be hard to escape punishment. It +is not so much the imprisonment, it is the bread and water I +mind. Ah! if I had but some money to bribe the brother jailer." + +Chicot, hearing this, adroitly slipped his purse from his pocket +and put it under him. This precaution was not useless, for Gorenflot, +who had been looking about him, now approached his friend softly, +and murmuring: + +"Were he awake, he would not refuse me a crown, but his sleep +is sacred, and I will take it," advanced, and began feeling his +pockets. "It is singular," said he, "nothing in his pockets. +Ah! in his hat, perhaps." + +While he searched there Chicot adroitly emptied out his money, +and stuffed the empty purse into his breeches pocket. + +"Nothing in the hat," said the monk. "Ah! I forgot," and thrusting +in his hand, he drew from the pocket the empty purse. "Mon Dieu," +cried he, "empty! and who will pay the bill?" + +This thought terrified him so much that he got up and made instantly +for the door, through which he quickly disappeared. As he approached +the convent, his fears grew strong, and seeing a concourse of +monks standing talking on the threshold, he felt inclined to +fly. But some of them approached to meet him; he knew flight +was hopeless, and resigned himself. The monks seemed at first +to hesitate to speak to him, but at last one said: + +"Poor dear brother!" + +Gorenflot sighed, and raised his eyes to Heaven. + +"You know the prior waits for you?" + +"Ah! mon Dieu!" + +"Oh! yes; he ordered that you should be brought to him as soon +as you came in." + +"I feared it," said Gorenflot. And more dead than alive, he entered +the convent, whose doors closed on him. They led him to the prior. +Gorenflot did not dare to raise his eyes, finding himself alone +with his justly irritated superior. + +"Ah! it is you at last," said the abbe. + +"Reverend sir----" + +"What anxiety you have given me." + +"You are too good, my father," said Gorenflot, astonished at this +indulgent tone. + +"You feared to come in after the scene of last night?" + +"I confess it." + +"Ah, dear brother, you have been very imprudent." + +"Let me explain, father." + +"There is no need of explanations; your sally----" + +"Oh! so much the better," thought Gorenflot. + +"I understand it perfectly. A moment of enthusiasm carried you +away; enthusiasm is a holy virtue, but virtues, exaggerated become +almost vices, and the most honorable sentiments, when carried +to excess, are reprehensible." + +"Pardon, my father," said Gorenflot, timidly, "but I do not +understand. Of what sally do you speak?" + +"Of yours last night." + +"Out of the convent?" + +"No; in it. I am as good a Catholic as you, but your audacity +frightened me." + +Gorenflot was puzzled. "Was I audacious?" asked he. + +"More than that--rash." + +"Alas! you must pardon me, my father. I will endeavor to correct +myself." + +"Yes; but meanwhile, I fear the consequences for you and for all +of us. Had it passed among ourselves, it would have been nothing." + +"How, is it known to others?" + +"Doubtless; you know well there were more than a hundred laymen +listening to your discourse." + +"My discourse!" said Gorenflot, more and more astonished. + +"I allow it was fine, and that the universal applause must have +carried you on, but to propose to make a procession through the +streets of Paris, with a helmet on your head and a partisan on +your shoulder, appealing to all good Catholics, was rather too +strong, you will allow." Gorenflot looked bewildered. + +"Now," continued the prior, "this religious fervor, which burns +so strongly in your heart, will injure you in Paris. I wish you +therefore to go and expend it in the provinces." + +"An exile!" cried Gorenflot. + +"If you remain here, much worse may happen to you, my dear brother." + +"What?" + +"Perpetual imprisonment, or even death." + +Gorenflot grew frightfully pale; he could not understand how he +had incurred all this by getting tipsy in an inn, and passing +the night out of the convent. + +"By submitting to this temporary exile, my dear brother, not +only will you escape this danger, but you will plant the banner +of our faith in the provinces, where such words are less dangerous +than here, under the eyes of the king. Set off at once, then, +brother; perhaps the archers are already out to arrest you." + +"The archers, I!" said Gorenflot. + +"I advise you to go at once." + +"It is easy to say 'go,' but how am I to live?" + +"Oh! nothing more easy. You will find plenty of partisans who +will let you want for nothing. But go, in Heaven's name, and +do not come back till you are sent for." And the prior, after +embracing him, pushed him to the door. There he found all the +community waiting for him, to touch his hands or his robe. + +"Adieu!" said one, embracing him, "you are a holy man; do not +forget me in your prayers." + +"I, a holy man!" thought Gorenflot. + +"Adieu, brave champion of the faith," said another. + +"Adieu, martyr," said a third, "the light will soon come." + +Thus was he conducted to the outside of the convent, and as he +went away he exclaimed, "Devil take me, but either they are all +mad, or I am." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +HOW BROTHER GORENFLOT REMAINED CONVINCED THAT HE WAS A SOMNAMBULIST, +AND BITTERLY DEPLORED THIS INFIRMITY. + +Until the day when this unmerited persecution fell on Brother +Gorenflot, he had led a contemplative and easy life, diverting +himself on occasions at the Corne d'Abondance, when he had gained +a little money from the faithful. He was one of those monks for +whom the world began at the prior of the convent, and finished +at the cook. And now he was sent forth to seek for adventures. +He had no money; so that when out of Paris and he heard eleven +o'clock (the time for dinner at the convent) strike, he sat down +in dejection. His first idea was to return to the convent, and +ask to be put in confinement, instead of being sent in to exile, +and even to submit to the discipline, provided they would insure +him his repasts. His next was more reasonable. He would go to the +Corne d'Abondance, send for Chicot, explain to him the lamentable +situation into which he had helped to bring him, and obtain aid +from this generous friend. He was sitting absorbed in these +reflections, when he heard the sound of a horse's feet approaching. +In great fear, he hid behind a tree until the traveler should +have passed; but a new idea struck him. He would endeavor to +obtain some money for his dinner. So he approached tremblingly, +and said, "Monsieur, if five patera, and five aves for the success +of your projects would be agreeable to you----" + +"Gorenflot!" cried the cavalier. + +"M. Chicot!" + +"Where the devil are you going?" + +"I do not know. And you?" + +"Oh! I am going straight before me." + +"Very far?" + +"Till I stop. But you--what are you doing outside the barriers?" + +"Alas! M. Chicot! I am proscribed," said Gorenflot, with an enormous +sigh. + +"What?" + +"Proscribed, I tell you. My brothers reject me from their bosom: +I am anathematized, excommunicated." + +"Bah! what for?" + +"Listen, M. Chicot; you will not believe me, perhaps, but I do +not know." + +"Perhaps you were met last night gadding about." + +"Do not joke; you know quite well what I was doing last night." + +"Yes, from eight till ten, but not from ten till three." + +"How, from ten till three?" + +"Yes, at ten you went out." + +"I?" + +"Yes, and I asked you where you were going." + +"And what did I say?" + +"That you were going to pronounce a discourse." + +"There was some truth in that," murmured Gorenflot. + +"Yes, and you even told me part of it; it was very long, and there +were terrible things against the king in it." + +"Bah!" + +"So terrible, that I should not wonder if you were arrested for +them." + +"M. Chicot, you open my eyes; did I seem quite awake when I spoke?" + +"I must say you seemed very strange; you looked like a man who +talks in his sleep." + +"Yet, I feel sure I awoke this morning at the Corne d'Abondance." + +"Well, of course; you came in again at three o'clock. I know; +you left the door open, and made me cold." + +"It is true, then?" + +"True! ask M. Boutromet." + +"M. Boutromet?" + +"Yes, he opened to you on your return. And you were so full of +pride when you came in, that I said to you,--'Fie, compere; pride +does not become mortals, more especially monks.'" + +"And of what was I proud?" + +"Of the success your discourse had met with, and the compliments +paid to you by the Duc de Guise and M. de Mayenne." + +"Now I understand all." + +"That is lucky. Then you confess you went to the assembly; what +did you call it? Oh! the Holy Union." + +Gorenflot groaned. "I am a somnambulist," he said. + +"What does that mean?" + +"It means, that with me mind is stronger than matter; so that +while the body sleeps, the spirit wakes, and sometimes is so +powerful that it forces the body to obey." + +"Ah! compere, that sounds much like magic; if you are possessed, +tell me so frankly; for, really a man who walks and makes discourses +in his sleep in which he attacks the king is not natural. Vade +retro, Satanas!" + +"Then," cried Gorenflot, "you abandon me also. Ah! I could not +have believed that of you." + +Chicot took pity on him. "What did you tell me just now?" said he. + +"I do not know; I feel half mad, and my stomach is empty." + +"You spoke of traveling." + +"Yes, the holy prior sends me." + +"Where to?" + +"Wherever I like." + +"I also am traveling, and will take you with me." + +Gorenflot looked bewildered. + +"Well! do you accept?" continued Chicot. + +"Accept! I should think so. But have you money to travel with?" + +"Look," said Chicot, drawing out his purse. + +Gorenflot jumped for joy. + +"How much?" said he. + +"One hundred and fifty pistoles." + +"And where are we going?" + +"You shall see." + +"When shall we breakfast?" + +"Immediately." + +"What shall I ride?" + +"Not my horse; you would kill it." + +"Then what must I do?" + +"Nothing more simple; I will buy you an ass." + +"You are my benefactor, M. Chicot. Let the ass be strong. Now, +where do we breakfast?" + +"Here; look over this door and read." + +Gorenflot looked up, and saw, "Here eggs, ham, eel-pies, and +white wine may be had!" At this sight, Gorenflot's whole face +expanded with joy. + +"Now," said Chicot, "go and get your breakfast, while I go and +look for an ass for you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +HOW BROTHER GORENFLOT TRAVELED UPON AN ASS, NAMED PANURGE, AND +LEARNED MANY THINGS HE DID NOT KNOW BEFORE. + +What made Chicot so indifferent to his own repast was, that he +had already breakfasted plentifully. Therefore, he sat Gorenflot +down to eggs and bacon, while he went among the peasants to look +for an ass. He found a pacific creature, four years old, and +something between an ass and a horse; gave twenty-two livres +for it, and brought it to Gorenflot, who was enchanted at the +sight of it, and christened it Panurge. Chicot, seeing by the +look of the table that there would be no cruelty in staying his +companion's repast, said,-- + +"Come, now we must go on; at Melun we will lunch." + +Gorenflot got up, merely saying, "At Melun, at Melun." + +They went on for about four leagues, then Gorenflot lay down on +the grass to sleep, while Chicot began to calculate. + +"One hundred and twenty leagues, at ten leagues a day, would +take twelve days." It was as much as he could reasonably expect +from the combined forces of a monk and an ass. But Chicot shook +his head. "It will not do," he said, "if he wants to follow me, +he must do fifteen." + +He pushed the monk to wake him, who, opening his eyes, said, "Are +we at Melun? I am hungry." + +"Not yet, compere, and that is why I woke you; we must get on; +we go too slow, ventre de biche!" + +"Oh, no, dear M. Chicot; it is so fatiguing to go fast. Besides, +there is no hurry: am I not traveling for the propagation of +the faith, and you for pleasure? Well, the slower we go, the +better the faith will be propagated, and the more you will amuse +yourself. My advice is to stay some days at Melun, where they +make excellent eel-pies. What do you say, M. Chicot?" + +"I say, that my opinion is to go as fast as possible; not to +lunch at Melun, but only to sup at Monterau, to make up for lost +time." + +Gorenflot looked at his companion as if he did not understand. + +"Come, let us get on," said Chicot. + +The monk sat still and groaned. + +"If you wish to stay behind and travel at your ease, you are +welcome." + +"No, no!" cried Gorenflot, in terror; "no, no, M. Chicot; I love +you too much to leave you!" + +"Then to your saddle at once." + +Gorenflot got on his ass this time sideways, as a lady sits, +saying it was more comfortable; but the fact was that, fearing +they were to go faster, he wished to be able to hold on both +by mane and tail. + +Chicot began to trot, and the ass followed. The first moments +were terrible for Gorenflot, but he managed to keep his seat. +From time to time Chicot stood up in his stirrups and looked +forward, then, not seeing what he looked for, redoubled his speed. + +"What are you looking for, dear M. Chicot?" + +"Nothing; but we are not getting on." + +"Not getting on! we are trotting all the way." + +"Gallop then!" and he began to canter. + +Panurge again followed; Gorenflot was in agonies. + +"Oh, M. Chicot!" said he, as soon as he could speak, "do you +call this traveling for pleasure? It does not amuse me at all." + +"On! on!" + +"It is dreadful!" + +"Stay behind then!" + +"Panurge can do no more; he is stopping." + +"Then adieu, compere!" + +Gorenflot felt half inclined to reply in the same manner, but he +remembered that the horse, whom he felt ready to curse, bore on +his back a man with a hundred and fifty pistoles in his pocket, +so he resigned himself, and beat his ass to make him gallop once +more. + +"I shall kill my poor Panurge!" cried he dolefully, thinking to +move Chicot. + +"Well, kill him," said Chicot quietly, "and we will buy another." + +All at once Chicot, on arriving at the top of a hill, reined +in his horse suddenly. But the ass, having once taken it into +his head to gallop, was not so easily stopped, and Gorenflot +was forced to let himself slide off and hang on to the donkey +with all his weight before he could stop him. + +"Ah, M. Chicot!" cried he, "what does it all mean? First we must +gallop fit to break our necks, and then we must stop short here!" + +Chicot had hidden himself behind a rock, and was eagerly watching +three men who, about two hundred yards in advance, were traveling +on quietly on their mules, and he did not reply. + +"I am tired and hungry!" continued Gorenflot angrily. + +"And so am I," said Chicot; "and at the first hotel we come to +we will order a couple of fricasseed chickens, some ham, and +a jug of their best wine." + +"Really, is it true this time?" + +"I promise you, compere." + +"Well, then, let us go and seek it. Come, Panurge, you shall have +some dinner." + +Chicot remounted his horse, and Gorenflot led his ass. The +much-desired inn soon appeared, but, to the surprise of Gorenflot, +Chicot caused him to make a detour and pass round the back. At +the front door were standing the three travelers. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +HOW BROTHER GORENFLOT CHANGED HIS ASS FOR A MULE, AND HIS MULE +FOR A HORSE. + +However, Gorenflot's troubles were near their end for that day, +for after the detour they went on a mile, and then stopped at a +rival hotel. Chicot took a room which looked on to the high-road, +and ordered supper. But even while he was eating he was constantly +on the watch. However, at ten o'clock, as he had seen nothing, +he went to bed, first, however, ordering that the horse and the +ass should be ready at daybreak. + +"At daybreak?" uttered Gorenflot, with a deep sigh. + +"Yes; you must be used to getting up at that time." + +"Why so?" + +"For matins." + +"I had an exemption from the superior." Chicot ordered Gorenflot's +bed to be placed in his room. With daylight he was up and at the +window, and before very long he saw three mules coming along. +He ran to Gorenflot and shook him. + +"Can I not have a moment's rest?" cried the monk, who had been +sleeping for ten hours. + +"Be quick; get up and dress, for we are going." + +"But the breakfast?" + +"Is on the road to Monterau." + +"Where is Monterau?" + +"It is the city where we breakfast, that is enough for you. Now, +I am going down to pay the bill, and if you are not ready in +five minutes, I go without you." + +A monk's toilet takes not long; however, Gorenflot took six minutes, +and when he came down Chicot was starting. This day passed much +like the former one, and by the third, Gorenflot was beginning +to get accustomed to it, when towards the evening, Chicot lost +all his gaiety. Since noon he had seen nothing of the three +travelers; therefore he was in a very bad humor. They were off +at daybreak and galloped till noon, but all in vain; no mules +were visible. Chicot stopped at a turnpike, and asked the man +if he had seen three travelers pass on mules. + +"Not to-day," was the reply, "yesterday evening about seven." + +"What were they like?" + +"They looked like a master and two servants!" + +"It was them," said Chicot; "ventre de biche! they have twelve +hours' start of me. But courage!" + +"Listen, M. Chicot!" said Gorenflot, "my ass can do no more, +even your horse is almost exhausted." Chicot looked, and saw, +indeed, that the poor animals were trembling from head to foot. + +"Well! brother," said he, "we must take a resolution. You must +leave me." + +"Leave you; why?" + +"You go too slow." + +"Slow! why, we have galloped for five hours this morning." + +"That is not enough." + +"Well, then, let us go on; the quicker we go, the sooner we shall +arrive, for I suppose we shall stop at last." + +"But our animals are exhausted." + +"What shall we do then?" + +"Leave them here, and take them as we come back." + +"Then how are we to proceed?" + +"We will buy mules." + +"Very well," said Gorenflot with a sigh. Two mules were soon +found, and they went so well that in the evening Chicot saw with +joy those of the three travelers, standing at the door of a +farrier's. But they were without harness, and both master and +lackeys had disappeared. Chicot trembled. "Go," said he, to +Gorenflot, "and ask if those mules are for sale, and where their +owners are." Gorenflot went, and soon returned, saying that a +gentleman had sold them, and had afterwards taken the road to +Avignon. + +"Alone?" + +"No, with a lackey." + +"And where is the other lackey?" + +"He went towards Lyons." + +"And how did they go on?" + +"On horses which they bought." + +"Of whom?" + +"Of a captain of troopers who was here, and they sold their mules +to a dealer, who is trying to sell them again to those Franciscan +monks whom you see there." + +"Well, take our two mules and go and offer them to the monks instead; +they ought to give you the preference." + +"But, then, how shall we go on?" + +"On horseback, morbleu." + +"Diable!" + +"Oh! a good rider like you. You will find me again on the Grand +Place." Chicot was bargaining for some horses, when he saw the +monk reappear, carrying the saddles and bridles of the mules. + +"Oh! you have kept the harness?" + +"Yes." + +"And sold the mules?" + +"For ten pistoles each." + +"Which they paid you?" + +"Here is the money." + +"Ventre de biche! you are a great man, let us go on." + +"But I am thirsty." + +"Well, drink while I saddle the beasts, but not too much." + +"A bottle." + +"Very well." + +Gorenflot drank two, and came to give the rest of the money back +to Chicot, who felt half inclined to give it to him, but reflecting +that if Gorenflot had money he would no longer be obedient, he +refrained. They rode on, and the next evening Chicot came up +with Nicolas David, still disguised as a lackey, and kept him in +sight all the way to Lyons, whose gates they all three entered +on the eighth day after their departure from Paris. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +HOW CHICOT AND HIS COMPANION INSTALLED THEMSELVES AT THE HOTEL +OF THE CROSS, AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED BY THE HOST. + +Chicot watched Nicolas David into the principal hotel of the +place, and then said to Gorenflot, "Go in and bargain for a private +room, say that you expect your brother, then come out and wait +about for me, and I will come in when it is dark, and you can +bring me straight to my room. Do you understand?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Choose a good room, as near as possible to that of the traveler +who has just arrived; it must look on to the street, and on no +account pronounce my name." + +Gorenflot acquitted himself marvelously of the commission. Their +room was only separated by a partition from that of Nicolas David. + +"You deserve a recompense," said Chicot to him, "and you shall +have sherry wine for supper." + +"I never got tipsy on that wine; it would be agreeable." + +"You shall to-night. But now ramble about the town." + +"But the supper?" + +"I shall be ready against your return; here is a crown meanwhile." + +Gorenflot went off quite happy, and then Chicot made, with a +gimlet, a hole in the partition at about the height of his eye. +Through this, he could hear distinctly all that passed, and he +could just see the host talking to Nicolas David, who was professing +to have been sent on a mission by the king, to whom he professed +great fidelity. The host did not reply, but Chicot fancied he +could see an ironical smile on his lip whenever the king's name +was mentioned. + +"Is he a leaguer?" thought Chicot; "I will find out." + +When the host left David he came to visit Chicot, who said, "Pray +sit down, monsieur; and before we make a definitive arrangement, +listen to my history. You saw me this morning with a monk?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Silence! that monk is proscribed." + +"What! is he a disguised Huguenot?" + +Chicot took an offended air. "Huguenot, indeed! he is my relation, +and I have no Huguenot relations. On the contrary, he is so fierce +an enemy of the Huguenots, that he has fallen into disgrace with +his majesty Henri III., who protects them, as you know." + +The host began to look interested. "Silence," said he. + +"Why, have you any of the king's people here?" + +"I fear so; there is a traveler in there." + +"Then we must fly at once, for proscribed, menaced----" + +"Where will you go?" + +"We have two or three addresses given to us by an innkeeper we +know, M. la Huriere." + +"Do you know La Huriere?" + +"Yes, we made his acquaintance on the night of St. Bartholomew." + +"Well, I see you and your relation are holy people; I also know +La Huriere. Then you say this monk----" + +"Had the imprudence to preach against the Huguenots, and with +so much success that the king wanted to put him in prison." + +"And then?" + +"Ma foi, I carried him off." + +"And you did well." + +"M. de Guise offered to protect him." + +"What! the great Henri?" + +"Himself; but I feared civil war." + +"If you are friends of M. de Guise, you know this;" and he made +a sort of masonic sign by which the leaguers recognized each +other. + +Chicot, who had seen both this and the answer to it twenty times +during that famous night, replied, "And you this?" + +"Then," said the innkeeper, "you are at home here; my house is +yours, look on me as a brother, and if you have no money----" + +Chicot drew out his purse. The sight of a well-filled purse is +always agreeable, even to a generous host. + +"Our journey," continued Chicot, "is paid for by the treasurer +of the Holy Union, for we travel to propagate the faith. Tell +us of an inn where we may be safe." + +"Nowhere more so than here, and if you wish it, the other traveler +shall turn out." + +"Oh! no; it is better to have your enemies near, that you may +watch them. But, what makes you think he is our enemy?" + +"Well! first he came disguised as a lackey, then he put on an +advocate's dress, and I am sure he is no more an advocate than +he is a lackey, for I saw a long rapier under his cloak. Then +he avowed he had a mission from the king!" + +"From Herod, as I call him." + +"Sardanapalus." + +"Bravo!" + +"Ah! I see we understand each other." + +"Then we are to remain here?" + +"I should think so." + +"Not a word about my relation." + +"Of course not." + +"Nor of me." + +"Oh, no! But hush! here is some one." + +"Oh, it is the worthy man himself!" + +The host turned to Gorenflot, and made a sign of the leaguers. +Gorenflot was struck with terror and astonishment. + +"Reply, my brother," said Chicot; "he is a member." + +"Of what?" + +"Of the Holy Union," said Bernouillet, in a low tone. + +"You see all is safe; reply," said Chicot. + +Gorenflot replied, to the great joy of the innkeeper. + +"But," said Gorenflot, who did not like the conversation, "you +promised me some sherry." + +"Sherry, Malaga, Alicant--every wine in my cellar is at your +disposal." + +Gorenflot looked at Chicot in amazement. + +For three following days Gorenflot got drunk, first on sherry, +next on Malaga, then on Alicant; afterwards he declared he liked +Burgundy best, and returned to that. Meanwhile, Chicot had never +stirred from his room, and had constantly watched Nicolas David, +who, having appointed to meet Pierre de Gondy at this inn, would +not leave the house. On the morning of the sixth day he declared +himself ill, and the next day worse. Bernouillet came joyfully +to tell Chicot. + +"What! do you think him in danger?" + +"High fever, my dear brother; he is delirious, and tried to strangle +me and beat my servants. The doctors do not understand his +complaint." + +"Have you seen him?" + +"Yes; I tell you he tried to strangle me." + +"How did he seem?" + +"Pale and furious, and constantly crying out." + +"What?" + +"Take care of the king! they want to hurt the king! Then he +constantly says that he expects a man from Avignon, and wishes +to see him before he dies." + +As for Gorenflot, he grew visibly fatter every day, so much so, +that he announced to Chicot with terror one day that the staircase +was narrowing. Neither David, the League, nor religion occupied +him; he thought of nothing but how to vary his dinner and wine, +so that Bernouillet often exclaimed in astonishment, "To think +that that man should be a torrent of eloquence!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +HOW THE MONK CONFESSED THE ADVOCATE, AND THE ADVOCATE THE MONK. + +At last M. Bernouillet came into Chicot's room, laughing +immoderately. + +"He is dying," said he, "and the man has arrived from Avignon." + +"Have you seen him?" + +"Of course." + +"What is he like?" + +"Little and thin." + +"It is he," thought Chicot; and he said, "Tell me about his arrival." + +"An hour ago I was in the kitchen, when I saw a great horse, +ridden by a little man, stop before the door. 'Is M. Nicolas +here?' asked he. 'Yes, monsieur,' said I. 'Tell him that the +person he expects from Avignon is here.' 'Certainly, monsieur, +but I must warn you that he is very ill.' 'All the more reason +for doing my bidding at once.' 'But he has a malignant fever.' +'Oh, pray, then, be quick!' 'How! you persist?' 'I persist.' +'In spite of the danger!' 'In spite of everything I must see +him.' So I took him to the room, and there he is now. Is it not +odd?" + +"Very droll." + +"I wish I could hear them." + +"Go in." + +"He forbade me to go in, saying he was going to confess." + +"Listen at the door." + +Bernouillet went, and Chicot went also to his hole: but they +spoke so low that he could hear nothing, and in a few minutes +Gondy rose and took leave. Chicot ran to the window, and saw a +lackey waiting with a horse, which M. de Gondy mounted and rode +off. + +"If he only has not carried off the genealogy. Never mind, I +shall soon catch him if necessary; but I suspect it is left here. +Where can Gorenflot be?" + +M. Bernouillet returned, saying, "He is gone." + +"The confessor?" + +"He is no more a confessor than I am." + +"Will you send me my brother as soon as he comes in." + +"Even if he be drunk?" + +"Whatever state he is in." + +Bernouillet went, and Chicot remained in a state of indecision +as to what to do, for he thought, "If David is really so ill, +he may have sent on the despatches by Gondy." Presently he heard +Gorenflot's voice, singing a drinking song as he came up the +stairs. + +"Silence, drunkard!" said Chicot. + +"Drunkard, indeed!" + +"Yes; but come here and speak seriously, if you can." + +"What is it now?" + +"It is, that you never think of the duties of your profession, +that you wallow in greediness and drunkenness, and let religion +go where it pleases." + +Gorenflot looked astonished. "I!" he gasped. + +"Yes, you; you are disgraceful to see; you are covered with mud; +you have been drunk in the streets." + +"It is too true!" + +"If you go on so, I will abandon you." + +"Chicot, my friend, you will not do that? Am I very guilty?" + +"There are archers at Lyons." + +"Oh, pity! my dear protector, pity!" + +"Are you a Christian or not?" + +"I not a Christian!" + +"Then do not let a neighbor die without confession." + +"I am ready, but I must drink first, for I am thirsty." + +Chicot passed him a jug of water, which he emptied. + +"Now who am I to confess?" + +"Our unlucky neighbor who is dying." + +"Let them give him a pint of wine with honey in it." + +"He needs spiritual aid as well as temporal. Go to him." + +"Am I fit?" said Gorenflot, timidly. + +"Perfectly." + +"Then I will go." + +"Stay; I must tell you what to do." + +"Oh! I know." + +"You do not know what I wish." + +"What you wish?" + +"If you execute it well, I will give you one hundred pistoles +to spend here." + +"What must I do?" + +"Listen; your robe gives you authority; in the name of God and +the King, summon him to give up the papers he has just received +from Avignon." + +"What for?" + +"To gain one hundred pistoles, stupid." + +"Ah! true; I go." + +"Wait a minute. He will tell you he has confessed." + +"But if he has?" + +"Tell him he lies; that the man who has just left him is no +confessor, but an intriguer like himself." + +"But he will be angry." + +"What does that matter, since he is dying?" + +"True." + +"Well; one way or the other, you must get hold of those papers." + +"If he refuses?" + +"Refuse him absolution, curse him, anathematize him----" + +"Oh, I will take them by force." + +"Good; and when you have got them, knock on the wall." + +"And if I cannot get them?" + +"Knock also." + +"Then, in any case I am to knock?" + +"Yes." + +Gorenflot went, and Chicot placed his ear to the hole in the +wall. When Gorenflot entered, the sick man raised himself in his +bed, and looked at him with wonder. + +"Good day, brother," said Gorenflot. + +"What do you want, my father?" murmured the sick man, in a feeble +voice. + +"My son, I hear you are in danger, and I come to speak to you +of your soul." + +"Thank you, but I think your care is needless; I feel better." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it." + +"It is a ruse of Satan, who wishes you to die without confession." + +"Then he will be deceived, for I have just confessed." + +"To whom?" + +"To a worthy priest from Avignon." + +"He was not a priest." + +"Not!" + +"No." + +"How do you know?" + +"I knew him." + +"You knew the man who has just gone?" + +"Yes; and as you are not better, and this man was not a priest, +you must confess." + +"Very well," replied the patient, in a stronger voice, "but I +will chose to whom I will confess." + +"You will have no time to send for another priest, and I am here." + +"How! no time, when I tell you I am getting well?" + +Gorenflot shook his head. "I tell you, my son, you are condemned +by the doctors and by Providence; you may think it cruel to tell +you so, but it is what we must all come to sooner or later. Confess, +my son, confess." + +"But I assure you, father, that I feel much stronger." + +"A mistake, my son, the lamp flares up at the last, just before +it goes out. Come, confess all your plots, your intrigues, and +machinations!" + +"My intrigues and plots!" cried David, frightened at this singular +monk, whom he did not know, but who seemed to know him so well. + +"Yes; and when you have told all that, give me up the papers, +and perhaps God will let me absolve you." + +"What papers?" cried the sick man, in a voice as strong as though +he were quite well. + +"The papers that the pretended priest brought you from Avignon." + +"And who told you that he brought me papers?" cried the patient, +putting one leg out of bed. + +Gorenflot began to feel frightened, but he said firmly, "He who +told me knew well what he was saying; give me the papers, or +you shall have no absolution." + +"I laugh at your absolution," cried David, jumping out of bed, +and seizing Gorenflot by the throat, "and you shall see if I +am too ill to strangle you." + +Gorenflot was strong, and he pushed David back so violently that +he fell into the middle of the room. But he rose furious, and +seizing a long sword, which hung on the wall behind his clothes, +presented it to the throat of Gorenflot, who sank on a chair +in terror. + +"It is now your turn to confess," said he, "speak, or you die." + +"Oh!" cried Gorenflot, "then you are not ill--not dying." + +"It is not for you to question, but to answer." + +"To answer what?" + +"Who are you?" + +"You can see that." + +"Your name?" + +"Brother Gorenflot." + +"You are then a real monk?" + +"I should think so." + +"What brings you to Lyons?" + +"I am exiled." + +"What brought you to this inn?" + +"Chance." + +"How long have you been here?" + +"A fortnight." + +"Why did you watch me?" + +"I did not." + +"How did you know that I had the papers?" + +"Because I was told so." + +"Who told you?" + +"He who sent me here." + +"Who was that?" + +"I cannot tell you." + +"You must." + +"Oh! oh! I will cry out." + +"And I will kill." + +Gorenflot cried out, and a spot of blood appeared on the point +of the sword. + +"His name?" cried David. + +"Oh! I can hold out no more." + +"Speak." + +"It was Chicot." + +"The king's jester!" + +"Himself." + +"And where is he?" + +"Here!" cried a voice, and Chicot appeared at the door with a +drawn sword in his hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +HOW CHICOT USED HIS SWORD. + +Nicolas David, in recognizing him whom he knew to be his mortal +enemy, could not repress a movement of terror, during which Gorenflot +slipped a little to the side, crying out, "Help, friend! come to +my aid!" + +"Ah, Monsieur David, it is you!" said Chicot; "I am delighted +to meet you again!" Then, turning to Gorenflot, he said, "My +good Gorenflot, your presence as monk was very necessary just +now, when we believed monsieur dying; but now that he is so well, +it is with me he must deal; therefore, do me the favor to stand +sentinel on the threshold, and prevent any one from coming in +to interrupt our little conversation." Gorenflot, who asked no +better than to go, was soon out of the room; but David, having +now recovered from his surprise, and confident in his skill as +a swordsman, stood waiting for Chicot, with his sword in his +hand and a smile on his lips. + +"Dress yourself, monsieur," said Chicot; "I do not wish to take +any advantage of you. Do you know what I have come to seek in +this room?" + +"The rest of the blows which I have owed you on account of the +Duc de Mayenne, since that day when you jumped so quickly out +of the window." + +"No, monsieur; I know the number, and will return them. Be easy. +What I have come for is a certain genealogy which M. Pierre de +Gondy took to Avignon, without knowing what he carried, and, +equally in ignorance, brought back to you just now." + +David turned pale. "What genealogy?" he said. + +"That of M. de Guise, who descends, as you know, in a direct line +from Charlemagne." + +"Ah, you are a spy! I thought you only a buffoon." + +"Dear M. David, I will be both if you wish it: a spy to hang you, +and a buffoon to laugh at it after." + +"To hang me!" + +"High and dry, monsieur; I hope you do not lay claim to be beheaded +like a gentleman." + +"And how will you do it?" + +"Oh, very easily; I will relate the truth, for I must tell you, +dear M. David, that I assisted last month at the meeting held +in the convent of St. Genevieve." + +"You!" + +"Yes; I was in the confessional in front of yours, and it was +very uncomfortable there, especially as I was obliged to wait +to go out until all was finished. Therefore I heard all, saw +the coronation of M. d'Anjou, which was not very amusing; but +then the genealogy was delightful." + +"Ah! you know about the genealogy?" cried David, biting his lips +with anger. + +"Yes, and I found it very ingenious, especially that part about +the Salic law; only it is a misfortune to have so much intellect, +one gets hung for it; therefore, feeling myself moved with tender +pity for so ingenious a man, I said to myself, 'Shall I let this +brave M. David be hung?' and I took the resolution of traveling +with, or rather behind, you. I followed you, therefore, not without +trouble, and at last we arrived at Lyons. I entered the hotel +an hour after you, and have been in the adjoining room; look, +there is only a partition between, and, as you may imagine, I +did not travel all the way from Paris to Lyons to lose sight +of you now. I pierced a little hole, through which I had the +pleasure of watching you when I liked, and I confess I gave myself +this pleasure several times a day. At last you fell ill; the +host wished to get rid of you, but you were determined to wait +here for M. de Gondy. I was duped by you at first, for you might +really have been ill, so I sent you a brave monk, to excite you +to repentance; but, hardened sinner that you are, you tried to +kill him, forgetting the Scripture maxim, 'He who strikes with +the sword shall perish with the sword.' Then I came to you, and +said, 'We are old friends; let us arrange the matter.'" + +"In what manner?" + +"It would be a pity that such a man as you should disappear from +the world; give up plots, trust me, break with the Guises, give +me your papers, and, on the faith of a gentleman, I will make +your peace with the king." + +"While, on the contrary, if I do not give them to you?" + +"Ah! then, on the faith of a gentleman, I will kill you! But if +you give them to me, all shall be forgotten. You do not believe +me, perhaps, for your nature is bad, and you think my resentment +can never be forgotten. But, although it is true that I hate you, +I hate M. de Mayenne more; give me what will ruin him, and I will +save you. And then, perhaps, you will not believe this either, +for you love nothing; but I love the king, foolish and corrupted +as he is, and I wish that he should reign tranquilly--which is +impossible with the Mayennes and the genealogy of Nicolas David. +Therefore, give me up the genealogy, and I promise to make your +name and your fortune." + +David never moved. + +"Well," said Chicot, "I see all that I say to you is but wasted +breath; therefore, I go to get you hanged. Adieu, M. David," +and he stepped backwards towards the door. + +"And you think I shall let you go out," cried the advocate. + +"No, no, my fine spy; no, no, Chicot, my friend, those who know +of the genealogy must die. Those who menace me must die." + +"You put me quite at my ease; I hesitated only because I am sure +to kill you. Crillon, the other day, taught me a particular thrust, +only one, but that will suffice. Come, give me the papers, or +I will kill you; and I will tell you how--I will pierce your +throat just where you wished to bleed Gorenflot." + +Chicot had hardly finished, when David rushed on him with a savage +laugh. The two adversaries were nearly matched in height, but +Chicot, who fenced nearly every day with the king, had become +one of the most skilful swordsmen in the kingdom. David soon +began to perceive this, and he retreated a step. + +"Ah! ah!" said Chicot, "now you begin to understand. Once more; +the papers." + +David, for answer, threw himself again upon Chicot, and a new +combat ensued. At last Chicot called out,-- + +"Here is the thrust," and as he spoke, he thrust his rapier half +through his throat. + +David did not reply, but fell at Chicot's feet, pouring out a +mouthful of blood. But by a natural movement he tried to drag +himself towards his bed, so as to defend his secret to the last. + +"Ah!" cried Chicot, "I thought you cunning, but I see you are +a fool. I did not know where the papers were, and you have shown +me----" and while David rolled in the agonies of death, he ran +to the bed, raised the mattress, and found under it a roll of +parchment. At the moment in which he unrolled it to see if it +was the document he sought, David raised himself in a rage and +then fell back dead. Chicot saw with joy that he held what he +wanted. The Pope had written at the bottom, "Fiat ut voluit Deus; +Deus jura hominum fecit." After placing it in his breast, he +took the body of the advocate, who had died without losing more +blood, the nature of the wound making him bleed inwardly, put +it back in the bed, turned the face to the wall, and, opening +the door, called Gorenflot. + +"How pale you are!" said the monk, as he entered. + +"Yes, the last moments of that man caused me some emotion." + +"Then he is dead?" + +"Yes." + +"He was so well just now." + +"Too well; he swallowed something difficult of digestion, and +died of it." + +"The wretch wanted to strangle me, a holy man, and he is punished +for it." + +"Pardon him, you are a Christian." + +"I do, although he frightened me much." + +"You must do more; you must light the lamps, and say some prayers +by his bed." + +"Why?" + +"That you may not be taken prisoner as his murderer." + +"I, a murderer! it was he who tried to murder me." + +"Mon Dieu! yes, and as he could not succeed, his rage made him +break a blood-vessel. But till your innocence is established +they might annoy you much." + +"I fear you are right." + +"Then do what I tell you. Install yourself here, and recite all +the prayers you know, or do not know; then, when evening comes, +go out and call at the ironmonger's at the corner of the street. +There you will find your horse; mount him, and take the road to +Paris; at Villeneuve-le-Roi sell him, and take Panurge back." + +"Ah! that good Panurge; I shall be delighted to see him again. +But how am I to live?" + +Chicot drew from his pocket a handful of crowns and put them into +the large hand of the monk. + +"Generous man!" cried Gorenflot. "Let me stay with you at Lyons; +I love Lyons." + +"But I do not stay here; I set off at once, and travel too rapidly +for you to follow me." + +"So be it, then." + +Chicot installed the monk by the bed, and went downstairs to the +host. + +"M. Bernouillet," said he, "a great event has taken place in your +house." + +"What do you mean?" + +"The hateful royalist, the enemy of our religion upstairs, received +to-day a messenger from Rome." + +"I know that: it was I who told you." + +"Well, our holy father, the Pope, had sent him to this conspirator, +who, however, probably did not suspect for what purpose." + +"And why did he come?" + +"Go up-stairs, lift up the bedclothes, look at his neck, and you +will see." + +"You frighten me." + +"I say no more. The Pope did you honor in choosing your house +for the scene of his vengeance." + +Then Chicot put ten crowns into the hand of the host, and went +down to the stable to get out the horses. M. Bernouillet went +up and found Gorenflot praying. He looked as directed, and found +the wound. + +"May every enemy of our religion die thus," said he to Gorenflot. + +"Amen," replied the monk. + +These events passed about the same time that Bussy brought the +Baron de Meridor back to his daughter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +HOW THE DUC D'ANJOU LEARNED THAT DIANA WAS NOT DEAD. + +The month of April had arrived. The great cathedral of Chartres +was hung with white, and the king was standing barefooted in the +nave. The religious ceremonies, which were for the purpose of +praying for an heir to the throne of France, were just finishing, +when Henri, in the midst of the general silence, heard what seemed +to him a stifled laugh. He turned round to see if Chicot were +there, for he thought no one else would have dared to laugh at +such a time. It was not, however, Chicot who had laughed at the +sight of the two chemises of the Holy Virgin which were said to +have such a prolific power, and which were just being drawn from +their golden box; but it was a cavalier who had just stopped +at the door of the church, and who was making his way with his +muddy boots through the crowd of courtiers in their penitents' +robes and sacks. Seeing the king turn, he stopped for a moment, +and Henri, irritated at seeing him arrive thus, threw an angry +glance at him. The newcomer, however, continued to advance until +he reached the velvet chair of M. le Duc d'Anjou, by which he +knelt down. He, turning round, said, "Bussy!" + +"Good morning, monseigneur." + +"Are you mad?" + +"Why so?" + +"To come here to see this nonsense." + +"Monseigneur, I wish to speak to you at once." + +"Where have you been for the last three weeks?" + +"That is just what I have to tell you." + +"Well, you must wait until we leave the church." + +"So much the worse." + +"Patience, here is the end." + +Indeed, the king was putting on one of these chemises, and the +queen another. Then they all knelt down, and afterwards the king, +taking off his holy tunic, left the church. + +"Now, monseigneur," said Bussy, "shall we go to your house?" + +"Yes, at once, if you have anything to tell me." + +"Plenty of things which you do not expect." + +When they were in the hotel the duke said, "Now sit down and tell +me all; I feared you were dead." + +"Very likely, monseigneur." + +"You left me to look after my beautiful unknown. Who is this woman, +and what am I to expect?" + +"You will reap what you have sown, monseigneur--plenty of shame." + +"What do you mean?" cried the duke. + +"What I said." + +"Explain yourself, monsieur; who is this woman?" + +"I thought you had recognized her." + +"Then it was her?" + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +"You saw her?" + +"Yes." + +"And she spoke to you?" + +"Certainly. Doubtless you had reason to think her dead, and you +perhaps hoped she was so." + +The duke grew pale. + +"Yes, monseigneur," continued Bussy, "although you pushed to +despair a young girl of noble race, she escaped from death; but +do not breathe yet, do not think yourself absolved, for, in +preserving her life, she found a misfortune worse than death." + +"What is it? what has happened to her?" + +"Monseigneur, a man preserved her honor and saved her life, but +he made her pay for this service so dearly that she regrets his +having rendered it." + +"Finish." + +"Well, monseigneur, Mademoiselle de Meridor, to escape becoming +the mistress of the Duc d'Anjou, has thrown herself into the arms +of a man whom she detests, and is now Madame de Monsoreau." + +At these words the blood rushed furiously into the duke's face. + +"Is this true?" said he. + +"Pardieu! I said it," said Bussy, haughtily. + +"I did not mean that; I did not doubt your word, Bussy, I wondered +only if it were possible that one of my gentlemen had had the +audacity to interfere between me and a woman whom I honored with +my love." + +"And why not?" + +"Then you would have done so?" + +"I would have done better; I would have warned you that your honor +was being lost." + +"Listen, Bussy," said the prince, becoming calmer, "I do not +justify myself, but M. de Monsoreau has been a traitor towards +me." + +"Towards you?" + +"Yes, he knew my intentions." + +"And they were?" + +"To try and make Diana love me." + +"Love you!" + +"Yes, but in no case to use violence." + +"Those were your intentions?" said Bussy, with an ironical smile. + +"Certainly, and these intentions I preserved to the last, although +M. de Monsoreau constantly combated them." + +"Monseigneur, what do you say! This man incited you to dishonor +Diana?" + +"Yes." + +"By his counsels?" + +"By his letters. Would you like to see them?" + +"Oh! if I could believe that!" + +"You shall see." + +And the duke, opening a little cabinet, and taking out a letter, +said, "Since you doubt your prince's words, read." + +Bussy took it and read,-- + + +"MONSEIGNEUR, + +"Be quite easy; the coup-de-main can be executed without risk, +for the young person sets off this evening to pass a week with an +aunt who lives at the chateau of Lude. I charge myself with it, +and you need take no trouble as for the scruples of the young lady, +be sure that they will vanish in the presence of your highness: +meanwhile I act; and this evening she will be at the chateau of +Beauge. + +"Your highness's respectful servant, + +"BRYAN DE MONSOREAU." + + +"Well, what do you say, Bussy?" + +"I say that you are well served, monseigneur." + +"You mean betrayed." + +"Ah, true; I forgot the end." + +"The wretch! he made me believe in the death woman----" + +"Whom he stole from you; it is black enough." + +"How did he manage?" + +"He made the father believe you the ravisher, and offered himself +to rescue the lady, presented himself at the chateau of Beauge +with a letter from the Baron de Meridor, brought a boat to the +windows, and carried away the prisoner; then shut her up in the +house you know of, and by constantly working upon her fears, +forced her to become his wife." + +"Is it not infamous?" + +"Only partly excused by your conduct, monseigneur." + +"Ah! Bussy, you shall see how I will revenge myself!" + +"Princes do not revenge themselves, they punish," said Bussy. + +"How can I punish him?" + +"By restoring happiness to Madame de Monsoreau." + +"But can I?" + +"Certainly." + +"How?" + +"By restoring her to liberty. The marriage was forced, therefore +it is null." + +"You are right." + +"Get it set aside, then, and you will have acted like a gentleman +and a prince." + +"Ah, ah!" said the prince, "what warmth! you are interested in +it, Bussy." + +"I! not at all, except that I do not wish people to say that +Louis de Clermont serves a perfidious prince and a man without +honor." + +"Well, you shall see. But how to do it?" + +"Nothing more easy; make her father act." + +"But he is buried in Anjou." + +"Monseigneur, he is here in Paris." + +"At your house?" + +"No, with his daughter. Speak to him, monseigneur, that he may +see in you, not what he does now, an enemy, but a protector--that +he who now curses your name may bless you." + +"And when can I see him?" + +"As soon as you return Paris." + +"Very well." + +"It is agreed, then?" + +"Yes." + +"On your word as a gentleman?" + +"On my faith as a prince." + +"And when do you return?" + +"This evening; will you accompany me?" + +"No, I go first; where shall I meet your highness?" + +"To-morrow; at the king's levee." + +"I will be there, monseigneur." + +Bussy did not lose a moment, and the distance that took the duke +fifteen hours to accomplish, sleeping in his litter, the young +man, who returned to Paris, his heart beating with joy and love, +did in five, to console the baron and Diana the sooner. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +HOW CHICOT RETURNED TO THE LOUVRE, AND WAS RECEIVED BY THE KING +HENRI III. + +All was quiet at the Louvre, for the king, fatigued with his +pilgrimage, had not yet risen, when two men presented themselves +together at the gates. + +"M. Chicot," cried the younger, "how are you this morning?" + +"Ah, M. de Bussy." + +"You come for the king's levee, monsieur?" + +"And you also, I presume?" + +"No; I come to see M. le Duc d'Anjou. You know I have not the +honor of being a favorite of his majesty's." + +"The reproach is for the king, and not for you." + +"Do you come from far? I heard you were traveling." + +"Yes, I was hunting. And you?" + +"Yes, I have been in the provinces; and now will you be good enough +to render me a service?" + +"I shall be delighted." + +"Well, you can penetrate into the Louvre, while I remain in the +ante-chamber; will you tell the duke I am waiting for him?" + +"Why not come in with me?" + +"The king would not be pleased." + +"Bah!" + +"Diable! he has not accustomed me to his most gracious smiles." + +"Henceforth, for some time, all that will change." + +"Ah, ah! are you a necromancer, M. Chicot?" + +"Sometimes; come, take courage, and come in with me." + +They entered together; one went towards the apartments of the +Duc d'Anjou, and the other to those of the king. + +Henri was just awake, and had rung, and a crowd of valets and +friends had rushed in; already the chicken broth and the spiced +wine were served, when Chicot entered, and without saying a word, +sat down to eat and drink. + +"Par la mordieu!" cried the king, delighted, although he affected +anger; "it is that knave of a Chicot, that fugitive, that vagabond!" + +"What is the matter, my son?" said Chicot, placing himself on +the immense seat, embroidered with fleur-de-lis, on which the +king was seated. + +"Here is my misfortune returned," said Henri; "for three weeks +I have been so tranquil." + +"Bah! you always grumble. One would think you were one of your +own subjects. Let me hear, Henriquet, how you have governed this +kingdom in my absence." + +"Chicot!" + +"Have you hung any of your curled gentlemen? Ah! pardon, M. Quelus, +I did not see you." + +"Chicot, I shall be angry," said the king; but he ended by laughing, +as he always did; so he went on: "But what has become of you? Do +you know that I have had you sought for in all the bad parts +of Paris?" + +"Did you search the Louvre?" + +Just then M. de Monsoreau entered. + +"Ah! it is you, monsieur," said the king; "when shall we hunt +again?" + +"When it shall please your majesty; I hear there are plenty of +wild boars at St. Germain en Laye." + +"The wild boar is dangerous," said Chicot; "King Charles IX., +I remember, was nearly killed by one. And then spears are sharp +also; is it not so, Henri? and do you know your chief huntsman +must have met a wolf not long ago?" + +"Why so?" + +"Because he has caught the likeness; it is striking." + +M. de Monsoreau grew pale, and turning to Chicot, said: + +"M. Chicot, I am not used to jesters, having lived little at +court, and I warn you that before my king I do not like to be +humiliated, above all when I speak of my duties." + +"Well, monsieur," said Chicot, "we are not like you, we court +people laughed heartily at the last joke." + +"And what was that?" + +"Making you chief huntsman." + +Monsoreau looked daggers at Chicot. + +"Come, come," said Henri, "let us speak of something else." + +"Yes, let us speak of the merits of Notre Dame de Chartres." + +"Chicot, no impiety." + +"I impious! it is you, on the contrary; there were two chemises +accustomed to be together, and you separated them. Join them +together and a miracle may happen." + +This illusion to the estrangement of the king and queen made everyone +laugh. + +Monsoreau then whispered to Chicot, "Pray withdraw with me into +that window, I wish to speak to you." When they were alone, he went +on, "Now, M. Chicot, buffoon as you are, a gentleman forbids you; +do you understand? forbids you to laugh at him, and to remember +that others may finish what M. de Mayenne began." + +"Ah! you wish me to become your creditor, as I am his, and to +give you the same place in my gratitude." + +"It seems to me that, among your creditors, you forget the +principal." + +"Indeed, I have generally a good memory. Who may it be?" + +"M. Nicolas David." + +"Oh! you are wrong; he is paid." + +At this moment Bussy entered. + +"Monsieur," said he to the count, "M. le Duc d'Anjou desires to +speak with you." + +"With me?" + +"With you, monsieur." + +"Do you accompany me?" + +"No, I go first, to tell the duke you are coming," and he rapidly +disappeared. + +"Well?" said the duke. + +"He is coming." + +"And he suspects nothing?" + +"Nothing; but if he did, what matter? is he not your creature? +Does he seem to you less guilty than he did yesterday?" + +"No, a hundred times more so." + +"He has carried off, by treason, a noble young girl, and married +her equally treasonably; either he must ask for the dissolution +of the marriage himself, or you must do it for him." + +"I have promised." + +"I have your word?" + +"You have." + +"Remember that they know and are anxiously waiting." + +"She shall be free, Bussy; I pledge my word." + +Bussy kissed the hand which had signed so many false promises. +As he did so, M. de Monsoreau entered, and Bussy went to the +corridor, where were several other gentlemen. Here he had to +wait as patiently as might be for the result of this interview, +on which all his future happiness was at stake. He waited for +some time, when suddenly the door of the duke's room opened, +and the sound of M. de Monsoreau's voice made Bussy tremble, +for it sounded almost joyful. Soon the voices approached, and +Bussy could see M. de Monsoreau bowing and retiring, and he heard +the duke say: + +"Adieu, my friend." + +"My friend!" murmured Bussy. + +Then Monsoreau said, "Your highness agrees with me that publicity +is best?" + +"Yes, yes; an end to all mysteries." + +"Then this evening I will present her to the king." + +"Do so; I will prepare him." + +"Gentlemen," then said Monsoreau, turning towards those in the +corridor, "allow me to announce to you a secret; monseigneur +permits me to make public my marriage with Mademoiselle Diana +de Meridor, who has been my wife for more than a month, and whom +I intend this evening to present to the court." + +Bussy, who had been hidden behind a door, staggered, and almost +fell at this unexpected blow. However, he darted a glance of +contempt at the duke, towards whom he made a step, but he, in +terror, shut his door, and Bussy heard the key turn in the lock. +Feeling that if he stayed a moment longer he should betray before +everyone the violence of his grief, he ran downstairs, got on +his horse, and galloped to the Rue St. Antoine. The baron and +Diana were eagerly waiting for him, and they saw him enter pale +and trembling. + +"Madame," cried he, "hate me, despise me; I believed I could do +something and I can do nothing. Madame, you are now the recognized +wife of M. de Monsoreau, and are to be presented this evening. +I am a fool--a miserable dupe, or rather, as you said, M. le +Baron, the duke is a coward and a villain." + +And leaving the father and daughter overcome with grief, he rushed +wildly away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +WHAT PASSED BETWEEN M. DE MONSOREAU AND THE DUKE. + +It is time to explain the duke's sudden change of intention with +regard to M. de Monsoreau. When he first received him, it was +with dispositions entirely favorable to Bussy's wishes. + +"Your highness sent for me?" said Monsoreau. + +"You have nothing to fear, you who have served me so well, and +are so much attached to me. Often you have told me of the plots +against me, have aided my enterprises forgetting your own interests, +and exposing your life." + +"Your highness----" + +"Even lately, in this last unlucky adventure----" + +"What adventure, monseigneur?" + +"This carrying off of Mademoiselle de Meridor--poor young creature!" + +"Alas!" murmured Monsoreau. + +"You pity her, do you not?" said the duke. + +"Does not your highness?" + +"I! you know how I have regretted this fatal caprice. And, indeed, +it required all my friendship for you, and the remembrance of +all your good services, to make me forget that without you I +should not have carried off this young girl." + +Monsoreau felt the blow. "Monseigneur," said he, "your natural +goodness leads you to exaggerate, you no more caused the death +of this young girl than I did." + +"How so?" + +"You did not intend to use violence to Mademoiselle de Meridor." + +"Certainly not." + +"Then the intention absolves you; it is a misfortune, nothing +more." + +"And besides," said the duke, looking at him, "death has buried +all in eternal silence." + +The tone of his voice and his look struck Monsoreau. "Monseigneur," +said he, after a moment's pause, "shall I speak frankly to you?" + +"Why should you hesitate?" said the prince, with astonishment +mingled with hauteur. + +"Indeed, I do not know, but your highness has not thought fit +to be frank with me." + +"Really!" cried the duke, with an angry laugh. + +"Monseigneur, I know what your highness meant to say to me." + +"Speak, then." + +"Your highness wished to make me understand that perhaps Mademoiselle +de Meridor was not dead, and that therefore those who believed +themselves her murderers might be free from remorse." + +"Oh, monsieur, you have taken your time before making this consoling +reflection to me. You are a faithful servant, on my word; you +saw me sad and afflicted, you heard me speak of the wretched +dreams I had since the death of this woman, and you let me live +thus, when even a doubt might have spared me so much suffering. +How must I consider this conduct, monsieur?" + +"Monseigneur, is your highness accusing me?" + +"Traitor!" cried the duke, "you have deceived me; you have taken +from me this woman whom I loved----" + +Monsoreau turned pale, but did not lose his proud, calm look. +"It is true," said he. + +"True, knave!" + +"Please to speak lower, monseigneur; your highness forgets, that +you speak to a gentleman and an old servant." + +The duke laughed. + +"My excuse is," continued he, "that I loved Mademoiselle de Meridor +ardently." + +"I, also," replied Francois, with dignity. + +"It is true, monseigneur; but she did not love you." + +"And she loved you?" + +"Perhaps." + +"You lie! you know you lie! You used force as I did; only I, the +master, failed, while you, the servant, succeeded by treason." + +"Monseigneur, I loved her." + +"What do I care?" + +"Monseigneur, take care. I loved her, and I am not a servant. +My wife is mine, and no one can take her from me, not even the +king. I wished to have her, and I took her." + +"You took her! Well! you shall give her up." + +"You are wrong, monseigneur. And do not call," continue he, stopping +him, "for if you call once--if you do me a public injury----" + +"You shall give up this woman." + +"Give her up! she is my wife before God----" + +"If she is your wife before God, you shall give her up before +men. I know all, and I will break this marriage, I tell you. +To-morrow, Mademoiselle de Meridor shall be restored to her father; +you shall set off into the exile I impose on you; you shall have +sold your place; these are my conditions, and take care, or I will +break you as I break this glass." And he threw down violently +a crystal cup. + +"I will not give up my wife, I will not give up my place, and +I will remain in France," replied Monsoreau. + +"You will not?" + +"No, I will ask my pardon of the King of France--of the king +anointed at the Abbey of St. Genevieve; and this new sovereign +will not, I am sure, refuse the first request proffered to him." +Francois grew deadly pale, and nearly fell. + +"Well, well," stammered he, "this request, speak lower--I listen." + +"I will speak humbly, as becomes the servant of your highness. +A fatal love was the cause of all. Love is the most imperious +of the passions. To make me forget that your highness had cast +your eyes on Diana, I must have been no longer master of myself." + +"It was a treason." + +"Do not overwhelm me, monseigneur; I saw you rich, young and +happy, the first Christian prince in the world. For you are so, +and between you and supreme rank there is now only a shadow easy +to dispel. I saw all the splendor of your future, and, comparing +your proud position with my humble one, I said, 'Leave to the +prince his brilliant prospects and splendid projects, scarcely +will he miss the pearl that I steal from his royal crown.'" + +"Comte! comte!" + +"You pardon me, monseigneur, do you not?" + +At this moment the duke raised his eyes, and saw Bussy's portrait +on the wall. It seemed to exhort him to courage, and he said, "No, +I cannot pardon you; it is not for myself that I hold out, it is +because a father in mourning--a father unworthily deceived--cries +out for his daughter; because a woman, forced to marry you, cries +for vengeance against you; because, in a word, the first duty +of a prince is justice." + +"Monseigneur, if justice be a duty, gratitude is not less so; +and a king should never forget those to whom he owes his crown. +Now, monseigneur, you owe your crown to me." + +"Monsoreau!" cried the duke, in terror. + +"But I cling to those only who cling to me." + +"I cannot--you are a gentleman, you know I cannot approve of +what you have done. My dear count, this one more sacrifice; I +will recompense you for it; I will give you all you ask." + +"Then your highness loves her still!" cried Monsoreau, pale with +jealousy. + +"No, I swear I do not." + +"Then, why should I? I am a gentleman; who can enter into the +secrets of my private life?" + +"But she does not love you." + +"What matter?" + +"Do this for me, Monsoreau." + +"I cannot." + +"Then----" commenced the duke, who was terribly perplexed. + +"Reflect, sire." + +"You will denounce me?" + +"To the king dethroned for you, yes; for if my new king destroyed +my honor and happiness, I would return to the old." + +"It is infamous." + +"True, sire; but I love enough to be infamous." + +"It is cowardly." + +"Yes, your majesty, but I love enough to be cowardly. Come, +monseigneur, do something for the man who has served you so well." + +"What do you want?" + +"That you should pardon me." + +"I will." + +"That you should reconcile me with M. de Meridor." + +"I will try." + +"That you will sign my marriage contract with Mademoiselle de +Meridor." + +"Yes," said the prince, in a hoarse voice. + +"And that you shall honor my wife with a smile when I shall present +her to his majesty." + +"Yes; is that all?" + +"All, monseigneur." + +"You have my word." + +"And you shall keep the throne to which I have raised you.--There +remains now, only," thought Monsoreau, "to find out who told +the duke." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +CHICOT AND THE KING. + +That same evening M. de Monsoreau presented his wife in the queen's +circle. Henri, tired, had gone to bed, but after sleeping three or +four hours, he woke, and feeling no longer sleepy, proceeded to +the room where Chicot slept, which was the one formerly occupied +by St. Luc; Chicot slept soundly, and the king called him three +times before he woke. At last he opened his eyes and cried out, +"What is it?" + +"Chicot, my friend, it is I." + +"You; who?" + +"I, Henri." + +"Decidedly, my son, the pheasants must have disagreed with you; +I warned you at supper, but you would eat so much of them, as +well as of those crabs." + +"No; I scarcely tasted them." + +"Then you are poisoned, perhaps. Ventre de biche! how pale you +are!" + +"It is my mask," said the king. + +"Then you are not ill?" + +"No." + +"Then why wake me?" + +"Because I am annoyed." + +"Annoyed! if you wake a man at two o'clock in the morning, at +least you should bring him a present. Have you anything for me?" + +"No; I come to talk to you." + +"That is not enough." + +"Chicot, M. de Morvilliers came here last evening." + +"What for?" + +"To ask for an audience. What can he want to say to me, Chicot?" + +"What! it is only to ask that, that you wake me?" + +"Chicot, you know he occupies himself with the police." + +"No; I did not know it." + +"Do you doubt his watchfulness?" + +"Yes, I do, and I have my reasons." + +"What are they?" + +"Will one suffice you?" + +"Yes, if it be good." + +"And you will leave me in peace afterwards?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, one day--no, it was one evening, I beat you in the Rue +Foidmentel; you had with you Quelus and Schomberg." + +"You beat me?" + +"Yes, all three of you." + +"How, it was you! wretch!" + +"I, myself," said Chicot, rubbing his hands, "do I not hit hard?" + +"Wretch!" + +"You confess, it was true?" + +"You know it is, villain." + +"Did you send for M. de Morvilliers the next day?" + +"You know I did, for you were there when he came." + +"And you told him the accident that had happened to one of your +friends?" + +"Yes." + +"And you ordered him to find out the criminal?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he find him?" + +"No." + +"Well, then, go to bed, Henri; you see your police is bad." And, +turning round, Chicot refused to say another word, and was soon +snoring again. + +The next day the council assembled. It consisted of Quelus, Maugiron, +D'Epernon, and Schomberg. Chicot, seated at the head of the table, +was making paper boats, and arranging them in a fleet. M. de +Morvilliers was announced, and came in, looking grave. + +"Am I," said he, "before your majesty's council?" + +"Yes, before my best friends; speak freely." + +"Well, sire, I have a terrible plot to denounce to your majesty." + +"A plot!" cried all. + +"Yes, your majesty." + +"Oh, is it a Spanish plot?" + +At this moment the Duc d'Anjou, who had been summoned to attend +the council, entered. + +"My brother," said Henri, "M. de Morvilliers comes to announce +a plot to us." + +The duke threw a suspicious glance round him. "Is it possible?" +he said. + +"Alas, yes, monseigneur," said M. de Morvilliers. + +"Tell us all about it," said Chicot. + +"Yes," stammered the duke, "tell us all about it, monsieur." + +"I listen," said Henri. + +"Sire, for some time I have been watching some malcontents, but +they were shopkeepers, or junior clerks, a few monks and students." + +"That is not much," said Chicot. + +"I know that malcontents always make use either of war or of +religion." + +"Very sensible!" said the king. + +"I put men on the watch, and at last I succeeded in persuading +a man from the provosty of Paris to watch the preachers, who go +about exciting the people against your majesty. They are prompted +by a party hostile to your majesty, and this party I have studied, +and now I know their hopes," added he, triumphantly. "I have men +in my pay, greedy, it is true, who, for a good sum of money, +promised to let me know of the first meeting of the conspirators." + +"Oh! never mind money, but let us hear the aim of this conspiracy." + +"Sire, they think of nothing less than a second St. Bartholomew." + +"Against whom?" + +"Against the Huguenots." + +"What have you paid for your secret?" said Chicot. + +"One hundred and sixty thousand livres." + +Chicot turned to the king, saying, "If you like, for one thousand +crowns, I will tell you all the secrets of M. de Morvilliers." + +"Speak." + +"It is simply the League, instituted ten years ago; M. de Morvilliers +has discovered what every Parisian knows as well as his _ave_." + +"Monsieur," interrupted the chancellor. + +"I speak the truth, and I will prove it," cried Chicot. + +"Tell me, then, their place of meeting." + +"Firstly, the public streets; secondly, the public streets." + +"M. Chicot is joking," said the chancellor; "tell me their rallying +sign." + +"They are dressed like Parisians, and shake their legs when they +walk." + +A burst of laughter followed this speech; then M. de Morvilliers +said, "They have had one meeting-place which M. Chicot does not +know of." + +"Where?" asked the king. + +"The Abbey of St. Genevieve." + +"Impossible!" murmured the duke. + +"It is true," said M. de Morvilliers, triumphantly. + +"What did they decide?" asked the king. + +"That the Leaguers should choose chiefs, that every one should +arm, that every province should receive a deputy from the +conspirators, and that all the Huguenots cherished by his majesty +(that was their expression)----" + +The king smiled. + +"Should be massacred on a given day." + +"Is that all?" said the duke. + +"No, monseigneur." + +"I should hope not," said Chicot; "if the king got only that +for one hundred and sixty thousand livres, it would be a shame." + +"There are chiefs----" + +The Duc d'Anjou could not repress a start. + +"What!" cried Chicot, "a conspiracy that has chiefs! how wonderful! +But we ought to have more than that for one hundred and sixty +thousand livres." + +"Their names?" asked the king. + +"Firstly, a fanatic preacher; I gave ten thousand livres for his +name." + +"Very well." + +"A monk called Gorenflot." + +"Poor devil!" said Chicot. + +"Gorenflot?" said the king, writing down the name; "afterwards----" + +"Oh!" said the chancellor, with hesitation, "that is all." And +he looked round as if to say, "If your majesty were alone, you +should hear more." + +"Speak, chancellor," said the king, "I have none but friends here." + +"Oh! sire, I hesitate to pronounce such powerful names." + +"Are they more powerful than I am?" cried the king. + +"No, sire; but one does not tell secrets in public." + +"Monsieur," said the Duc d'Anjou, "we will retire." + +The king signed to the chancellor to approach him, and to the +duke to remain. M. de Morvilliers had just bent over the king to +whisper his communication, when a great clamor was heard in the +court of the Louvre. The king jumped up, but Chicot, running to +the window, called out, "It is M. de Guise entering the Louvre." + +"The Duc de Guise," stammered the Duc d'Anjou. + +"How strange that he should be in Paris," said the king, reading +the truth in M. de Morvilliers' look. "Was it of him you were +about to speak?" he asked. + +"Yes, sire; he presided over the meeting." + +"And the others?" + +"I know no more." + +"You need not write that name on your tablets! you will not forget +it," whispered Chicot. + +The Duc de Guise advanced, smiling, to see the king. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +WHAT M. DE GUISE CAME TO DO AT THE LOUVRE. + +Behind M. de Guise there entered a great number of officers, +courtiers, and gentlemen, and behind them a concourse of the +people; an escort less brilliant, but more formidable, and it was +their cries that had resounded as the duke entered the Louvre. + +"Ah! it is you, my cousin," said the king; "what a noise you bring +with you! Did I not hear the trumpets sound?" + +"Sire, the trumpets sound in Paris only for the king, and in +campaigns for the general. Here the trumpets would make too much +noise for a subject; there they do not make enough for a prince." + +Henri bit his lips. "Have you arrived from the siege of La Charite +only to-day?" + +"Only to-day, sire," replied the duke, with a heightened color. + +"Ma foi! your visit is a great honor to us." + +"Your majesty jests, no doubt. How can my visit honor him from +whom all honor comes?" + +"I mean, M. de Guise," replied Henri, "that every good Catholic +is in the habit, on returning from a campaign, to visit God first +in one of his temple's--the king only comes second. 'Honor God, +serve the king,' you know, my cousin." + +The heightened color of the duke became now still more distinct; +and the king, happening to turn towards his brother, saw with +astonishment, that he was as pale as the duke was red. He was +struck by this emotion in each, but he said: + +"At all events, duke, nothing equals my joy to see that you have +escaped all the dangers of war, although you sought them, I was +told in the rashest manner; but danger knows you and flies you." + +The duke bowed. + +"But I must beg you, my cousin, not to be so ambitious of mortal +perils, for you put to shame sluggards like us, who sleep, eat, +and invent new prayers." + +"Yes, sire," replied the duke, "we know you to be a pious prince, +and that no pleasure can make you forget the glory of God and +the interests of the Church. That is why we have come with so +much confidence to your majesty." + +"With confidence! Do you not always come to me with confidence, +my cousin?" + +"Sire, the confidence of which I speak refers to the proposition +I am about to make to you." + +"You have a proposition to make to me! Well, speak, as you say, +with confidence. What have you to propose?" + +"The execution of one of the most beautiful ideas which has been +originated since the Crusades." + +"Continue, duke." + +"Sire, the title of most Christian king is not a vain one; it +makes an ardent zeal for religion incumbent on its possessor." + +"Is the Church menaced by the Saracens once more?" + +"Sire, the great concourse of people who followed me, blessing +my name, honored me with this reception only because of my zeal +to defend the Church. I have already had the honor of speaking +to your majesty of an alliance between all true Catholics." + +"Yes, yes," said Chicot, "the League; ventre de biche, Henri, +the League. By St. Bartholomew! how can you forget so splendid +an idea, my son?" + +The duke cast a disdainful glance on Chicot, while d'Anjou, who +stood by, as pale as death, tried by signs, to make the duke stop. + +"Look at your brother, Henri," whispered Chicot. + +"Sire," continued the Duc de Guise, "the Catholics have indeed +called this association the Holy League, and its aim is to fortify +the throne against the Huguenots, its mortal enemies; but to +form an association is not enough, and in a kingdom like France, +several millions of men cannot assemble without the consent of +the king." + +"Several millions!" cried Henri, almost with terror. + +"Several millions!" repeated Chicot; "a small number of malcontents, +which may bring forth pretty results." + +"Sire," cried the duke, "I am astonished that your majesty allows +me to be interrupted so often, when I am speaking on serious +matters." + +"Quite right," said Chicot; "silence there." + +"Several millions!" repeated the king; "and against these millions, +how many Huguenots are there in my kingdom?" + +"Four," said Chicot. + +This new sally made the king and his friends laugh, but the duke +frowned, and his gentlemen murmured loudly. + +Henri, becoming once more serious, said, "Well, duke, what do +you wish? To the point." + +"I wish, sire--for your popularity is dearer to me than my own--that +your majesty should be superior to us in your zeal for religion--I +wish you to choose a chief for the League." + +"Well!" said the king, to those who surrounded him, "what do you +think of it, my friends?" + +Chicot, without saying a word, drew out a lion's skin from a corner, +and threw himself on it. + +"What are you doing, Chicot?" asked the king. + +"Sire, they say that night brings good counsel; that must be +because of sleep; therefore I am going to sleep, and to-morrow +I will reply to my cousin Guise." + +The duke cast a furious glance on Chicot, who replied by a loud +snore. + +"Well, sire!" said the duke, "what does your majesty say?" + +"I think that, as usual, you are in the right, my cousin; convoke, +then, your principal leaguers, come at their head, and I will +choose the chief." + +"When, sire?" + +"To-morrow." + +The Duc de Guise then took leave, and the Duc d'Anjou was about +to do the same, when the king said,-- + +"Stay, my brother, I wish to speak to you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +CASTOR AND POLLUX. + +The king dismissed all his favorites, and remained with his brother. +The duke, who had managed to preserve a tolerably composed +countenance throughout, believed himself unsuspected, and remained +without fear. + +"My brother," said Henri, after assuring himself that, with the +exception of Chicot, no one remained in the room, "do you know +that I am a very happy prince?" + +"Sire, if your majesty be really happy, it is a recompense from +Heaven for your merits." + +"Yes, happy," continued the king, "for if great ideas do not +come to me, they do to my subjects. It is a great idea which has +occurred to my cousin Guise." + +The duke make a sign of assent, and Chicot opened his eyes to +watch the king's face. + +"Indeed," continued Henri, "to unite under one banner all the +Catholics, to arm all France on this pretext from Calais to +Languedoc, from Bretagne to Burgundy, so that I shall always +have an army ready to march against England, Holland, or Spain, +without alarming any of them--do you know, Francois, it is a +magnificent idea?" + +"Is it not, sire?" said the duke, delighted. + +"Yes, I confess I feel tempted to reward largely the author of +this fine project." + +Chicot opened his eyes, but he shut them again, for he had seen +on the face of the king one of his almost imperceptible smiles, +and he was satisfied. + +"Yes," continued Henri, "I repeat such a project merits recompense, +and I will do what I can for the author of this good work, for +the work is begun--is it not, my brother?" + +The duke confessed that it was. + +"Better and better; my subjects not only conceive these good +ideas, but, in their anxiety to be of use to me, hasten to put +them in execution. But I ask you, my dear Francois, if it be +really to the Duc de Guise that I am indebted for this royal +thought?" + +"No, sire, it occurred to the Cardinal de Lorraine twenty years +ago, only the St. Bartholomew rendered it needless for the time." + +"Ah! what a pity he is dead; but," continued Henri, with that +air of frankness which made him the first comedian of the day, +"his nephew has inherited it, and brought it to bear. What can +I do for him?" + +"Sire," said Francois, completely duped by his brother, "you +exaggerate his merits. He has, as I say, but inherited the idea, +and another man has given him great help in developing it." + +"His brother the cardinal?" + +"Doubtless he has been occupied with it, but I do not mean him." + +"Mayenne, then?" + +"Oh! sire, you do him too much honor." + +"True, how could any good ideas come to such a butcher? But to +whom, then, am I to be grateful for aid to my cousin Guise?" + +"To me, sire." + +"To you!" cried Henri, as if in astonishment. "How! when I saw +all the world unchained against me, the preachers against my +vices, the poets against my weaknesses, while my friends laughed +at my powerlessness, and my situation was so harassing, that +it gave me gray hairs every day: such an idea came to you, +Francois--to you, whom I confess, for man is feeble and kings are +blind, I did not always believe to be my friend! Ah! Francois, +how guilty I have been." And Henri, moved even to tears, held +out his hand to his brother. + +Chicot opened his eyes again. + +"Oh!" continued Henri, "the idea is triumphant. Not being able +to raise troops without raising an outcry, scarcely to walk, +sleep, or love, without exciting ridicule, this idea gives me +at once an army, money, friends, and repose. But my cousin spake +of a chief?" + +"Yes, doubtless." + +"This chief, you understand, Francois, cannot be one of my favorites; +none of them has at once the head and the heart necessary for +so important a post. Quelus is brave, but is occupied only by +his amours. Maugiron is also brave, but he thinks only of his +toilette. Schomberg also, but he is not clever. D'Epernon is +a valiant man, but he is a hypocrite, whom I could not trust, +although I am friendly to him. But you know, Francois, that one +of the heaviest taxes on a king is the necessity of dissimulation; +therefore, when I can speak freely from my heart, as I do now, +I breathe. Well, then, if my cousin Guise originated this idea, +to the development of which you have assisted, the execution +of it belongs to him." + +"What do you say, sire?" said Francois, uneasily. + +"I say, that to direct such a movement we must have a prince of +high rank." + +"Sire, take care." + +"A good captain and a skilful negotiator." + +"The last particularly." + +"Well, is not M. de Guise all this?" + +"My brother, he is very powerful already." + +"Yes, doubtless; but his power makes my strength." + +"He holds already the army and the bourgeois; the cardinal holds +the Church, and Mayenne is their instrument; it is a great deal +of power to be concentrated in one family." + +"It is true, Francois; I had thought of that." + +"If the Guises were French princes, their interest would be to +aggrandize France." + +"Yes, but they are Lorraines." + +"Of a house always rival to yours." + +"Yes, Francois; you have touched the sore. I did not think you +so good a politician. Yes, there does not pass a day but one or +other of these Guises, either by address or by force, carries +away from me some particle of my power. Ah! Francois, if we had +but had this explanation sooner, if I had been able to read your +heart as I do now, certain of support in you, I might have resisted +better, but now it is too late." + +"Why so?" + +"Because all combats fatigue me; therefore I must make him chief +of the League." + +"You will be wrong, brother." + +"But who could I name, Francois? who would accept this perilous +post? Yes, perilous; for do you not see that he intended me to +appoint him chief, and that, should I name any one else to the +post, he would treat him as an enemy?" + +"Name some one so powerful that, supported by you, he need not +fear all the three Lorraine princes together." + +"Ah, my good brother, I know no such person." + +"Look round you, brother." + +"I know no one but you and Chicot who are really my friends." + +"Well, brother." + +Henri looked at the duke as if a veil had fallen from his eyes. +"Surely you would never consent, brother! It is not you who could +teach all these bourgeois their exercise, who could look over +the discourses of the preachers, who, in case of battle, would +play the butcher in the streets of Paris; for all this, one must +be triple, like the duke, and have a right arm called Charles +and a left called Louis. What! you would like all this? You, the +first gentleman of our court! Mort de ma vie! how people change +with the age!" + +"Perhaps I would not do it for myself, brother, but I would do +it for you." + +"Excellent brother!" said Henri, wiping away a tear which never +existed. + +"Then," said the duke, "it would not displease you for me to assume +this post?" + +"Displease me! On the contrary, it would charm me." + +Francois trembled with joy. "Oh! if your majesty thinks me worthy +of this confidence." + +"Confidence! When you are the chief, what have I to fear? The +League itself? That cannot be dangerous can it, Francois?" + +"Oh, sire?" + +"No, for then you would not be chief, or at least, when you are +chief, there will be no danger. But, Francois, the duke is doubtless +certain of this appointment, and he will not lightly give way." + +"Sire, you grant me the command?" + +"Certainly." + +"And you wish me to have it?" + +"Particularly; but I dare not too much displease M. de Guise." + +"Oh, make yourself easy, sire; if that be the only obstacle, I +pledge myself to arrange it." + +"When?" + +"At once." + +"Are you going to him? That will be doing him too much honor." + +"No, sire; he is waiting for me." + +"Where?" + +"In my room." + +"Your room! I heard the cries of the people as he left the Louvre." + +"Yes; but after going out at the great door he came back by the +postern. The king had the right to the first visit, but I to +the second." + +"Ah, brother, I thank you for keeping up our prerogative, which +I had the weakness so often to abandon. Go, then, Francois, and +do your best." + +Francois bent down to kiss the king's hand, but he, opening his +arms, gave him a warm embrace, and then the duke left the room +to go to his interview with the Duc de Guise. The king, seeing +his brother gone, gave an angry growl, and rapidly made his way +through the secret corridor, until he reached a hiding-place +whence he could distinctly hear the conversation between the two +dukes. + +"Ventre de biche!" cried Chicot, starting up, "how touching these +family scenes are! For an instant I believed myself in Olympus, +assisting at the reunion of Castor and Pollux after six months' +separation." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT LISTENING IS THE BEST WAY TO HEAR. + +The Duc d'Anjou was well aware that there were few rooms in the +Louvre which were not built so that what was said in them could be +heard from the outside; but, completely seduced by his brother's +manner, he forgot to take any precautions. + +"Why, monseigneur," said the Duc de Guise, "how pale you are!" + +"Visibly?" + +"Yes, to me." + +"The king saw nothing?" + +"I think not; but he retained you?" + +"Yes." + +"And what did he say, monseigneur?" + +"He approves the idea, but the more gigantic it appears, the more +he hesitates to place a man like you at the head." + +"Then we are likely to fail." + +"I fear so, my dear duke; the League seems likely to fail." + +"Before it begins." + +At this moment Henri, hearing a noise, turned and saw Chicot +by his side, listening also. "You followed me, Knave!" said he. + +"Hush, my son," said Chicot; "you prevent me from hearing." + +"Monseigneur," said the Duc de Guise, "it seems to me that in +this case the king would have refused at once. Does he wish to +dispossess me?" + +"I believe so." + +"Then he would ruin the enterprise?" + +"Yes; but I aided you with all my power." + +"How, monseigneur?" + +"In this--the king has left me almost master, to kill or reanimate +the League." + +"How so?" cried the duke, with sparkling eyes. + +"Why, if, instead of dissolving the League, he named me chief----" + +"Ah!" cried the duke, while the blood mounted to his face. + +"Ah! the dogs are going to fight over their bones," said Chicot; +but to his surprise, and the king's, the Duc de Guise suddenly +became calm, and exclaimed, in an almost joyful tone: + +"You are an adroit politician, monseigneur, if you did this." + +"Yes, I did; but I would not conclude anything without speaking +to you." + +"Why so, monseigneur?" + +"Because I did not know what it would lead us to." + +"Well, I will tell you, monseigneur, not to what it will lead +us--that God alone knows--but how it will serve us. The League +is a second army, and as I hold the first, and my brother the +Church, nothing can resist us as long as we are united." + +"Without counting," said the Duc d'Anjou, "that I am heir presumptive +to the throne." + +"True, but still calculate your bad chances." + +"I have done so a hundred times." + +"There is, first, the King of Navarre." + +"Oh! I do not mind him; he is entirely occupied by his amours +with La Fosseuse." + +"He, monseigneur, will dispute every inch with you; he watches +you and your brother; he hungers for the throne. If any accident +should happen to your brother, see if he will not be here with +a bound from Pau to Paris." + +"An accident to my brother," repeated Francois. + +"Listen, Henri," said Chicot. + +"Yes, monseigneur," said the Duc de Guise, "an accident. Accidents +are not rare in your family; you know that, as well as I do. +One prince is in good health, and all at once he falls ill of +a lingering malady; another is counting on long years, when, +perhaps, he has but a few hours to live." + +"Do you hear, Henri?" said Chicot, taking the hand of the king, +who shuddered at what he heard. + +"Yes, it is true," said the Duc d'Anjou, "the princes of my house +are born under fatal influences; but my brother Henri is, thank +God, strong and well; he supported formerly the fatigues of war, +and now that his life is nothing but recreation--" + +"Yes; but, monseigneur, remember one thing; these recreations +are not always without danger. How did your father, Henri II., +die, for example? He, who also had happily escaped the dangers +of war. The wound by M. de Montgomery's lance was an accident. +Then your poor brother, Francois, one would hardly call a pain +in the ears an accident, and yet it was one; at least, I have +often heard it said that this mortal malady was poured into his +ear by some one well known." + +"Duke!" murmured Francois, reddening. + +"Yes, monseigneur; the name of king has long brought misfortune +with it. Look at Antoine de Bourbon, who died from a spot in +the shoulder. Then there was Jeanne d'Albret, the mother of the +Bearnais, who died from smelling a pair of perfumed gloves, an +accident very unexpected although there were people who had great +interest in this death. Then Charles IX., who died neither by +the eye, the ear, nor the shoulder, but by the mouth----" + +"What do you say?" cried Francois, starting back. + +"Yes, monseigneur, by the mouth. Those hunting books are very +dangerous, of which the pages stick together, and can only be +opened by wetting the finger constantly." + +"Duke! duke! I believe you invent crimes." + +"Crimes! who speaks of crimes? I speak of accidents. Was it not +also an accident that happened to Charles IX. at the chase? You +know what chase I mean; that of the boar, where, intending to +kill the wild boar, which had turned on your brother, you, who +never before had missed your aim, did so then, and the king would +have been killed, as he had fallen from his horse, had not Henri +of Navarre slain the animal which you had missed." + +"But," said the Duc d'Anjou, trying to recover himself, "what +interest could I have had in the death of Charles IX., when the +next king would be Henri III.?" + +"Oh! monseigneur, there was already one throne vacant, that of +Poland. The death of Charles IX. would have left another, that +of France; and even the kingdom of Poland might not have been +despised. Besides, the death of Charles would have brought you +a degree nearer the throne, and the next accident would have +benefited you." + +"What do you conclude from all this, duke?" said the Duc d'Anjou. + +"Monseigneur, I conclude that each king has his accident, and +that you are the inevitable accident of Henri III., particularly +if you are chief of the League." + +"Then I am to accept?" + +"Oh! I beg you to do so." + +"And you?" + +"Oh! be easy; my men are ready, and to-night Paris will be curious." + +"What are they going to do in Paris to-night?" asked Henri. + +"Oh! how foolish you are, my friend; to-night they sign the League +publicly." + +"It is well," said the Duc d'Anjou, "till this evening then." + +"Yes, till this evening," said Henri. + +"How!" said Chicot, "you will not risk going into the streets +to-night?" + +"Yes, I shall." + +"You are wrong, Henri; remember the accidents." + +"Oh! I shall be well accompanied; will you come with me?" + +"What! do you take me for a Huguenot? I shall go and sign the +League ten times. However, Henri, you have a great advantage over +your predecessors, in being warned, for you know your brother, +do you not?" + +"Yes, and, mordieu! before long he shall find it out." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE EVENING OF THE LEAGUE. + +Paris presented a fine sight, as through its then narrow streets +thousands of people pressed towards the same point, for at eight +o'clock in the evening, M. le Duc de Guise was to receive the +signatures of the bourgeois to the League. A crowd of citizens, +dressed in their best clothes, as for a fete, but fully armed, +directed their steps towards the churches. What added to the +noise and confusion was that large numbers of women, disdaining +to stay at home on such a great day, had followed their husbands, +and many had brought with them a whole batch of children. It was +in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec that the crowd was the thickest. The +streets were literally choked, and the crowd pressed tumultuously +towards a bright light suspended below the sign of the Belle +Etoile. On the threshold a man, with a cotton cap on his head +and a naked sword in one hand and a register in the other, was +crying out, "Come come, brave Catholics, enter the hotel of the +Belle Etoile, where you will find good wine; come, to-night the +good will be separated from the bad, and to-morrow morning the +wheat will be known from the tares; come, gentlemen, you who +can write, come and sign;--you who cannot write, come and tell +your names to me, La Huriere; vive la messe!" A tall man elbowed +his way through the crowd, and in letters half an inch high, wrote +his name, 'Chicot.' Then, turning to La Huriere, he asked if he +had not another register to sign. La Huriere did not understand +raillery, and answered angrily. Chicot retorted, and a quarrel +seemed approaching, when Chicot, feeling some one touch his arm, +turned, and saw the king disguised as a simple bourgeois, and +accompanied by Quelus and Maugiron, also disguised, and carrying +an arquebuse on their shoulders. + +"What!" cried the king, "good Catholics disputing among themselves; +par la mordieu, it is a bad example." + +"Do not mix yourself with what does not concern you," replied +Chicot, without seeming to recognize him. But a new influx of +the crowd distracted the attention of La Huriere, and separated +the king and his companions from the hotel. + +"Why are you here, sire?" said Chicot. + +"Do you think I have anything to fear?" + +"Eh! mon Dieu! in a crowd like this it is so easy for one man +to put a knife into his neighbor, and who just utters an oath +and gives up the ghost." + +"Have I been seen?" + +"I think not; but you will be if you stay longer. Go back to the +Louvre, sire." + +"Oh! oh! what is this new outcry, and what are the people running +for?" + +Chicot looked, but could at first see nothing but a mass of people +crying, howling, and pushing. At last the mass opened, and a monk, +mounted on a donkey, appeared. The monk spoke and gesticulated, +and the ass brayed. + +"Ventre de biche!" cried Chicot, "listen to the preacher." + +"A preacher on a donkey!" cried Quelus. + +"Why not?" + +"He is Silenus," said Maugiron. + +"Which is the preacher?" said the king, "for they speak both at +once." + +"The underneath one is the most eloquent," said Chicot, "but the +one at the top speaks the best French; listen, Henri." + +"My brethren," said the monk, "Paris is a superb city; Paris is +the pride of France, and the Parisians a fine people." Then he +began to sing, but the ass mingled his accompaniment so loudly +that he was obliged to stop. The crowd burst out laughing. + +"Hold your tongue, Panurge, hold your tongue," cried the monk, +"you shall speak after, but let me speak first." + +The ass was quiet. + +"My brothers," continued the preacher, "the earth is a valley +of grief, where man often pan quench his thirst only with his +tears." + +"He is drunk," said the king. + +"I should think so." + +"I, who speak to you," continued the monk, "I am returning from +exile like the Hebrews of old, and for eight days Panurge and +I have been living on alms and privations." + +"Who is Panurge?" asked the king. + +"The superior of his convent, probably but let me listen." + +"Who made me endure this? It was Herod; you know what Herod I +speak of. I and Panurge have come from Villeneuve-le-Roi, in +three days, to assist at this great solemnity; now we see, but +we do not understand. What is passing, my brothers? Is it to-day +that they depose Herod? Is it to-day that they put brother Henri +in a convent?--Gentlemen," continued he, "I left Paris with two +friends; Panurge, who is my ass, and Chicot, who is his majesty's +jester. Can you tell me what has become of my friend Chicot?" + +Chicot made a grimace. + +"Oh," said the king, "he is your friend." Quelus and Maugiron +burst out laughing. "He is handsome and respectable," continued +the king. + +"It is Gorenflot, of whom M. de Morvilliers spoke to you." + +"The incendiary of St. Genevieve?" + +"Himself!" + +"Then I will have him hanged!" + +"Impossible!" + +"Why?" + +"He has no neck." + +"My brothers," continued Gorenflot: "I am a true martyr, and it +is my cause that they defend at this moment or, rather, that +of all good Catholics. You do not know what is passing in the +provinces, we have been obliged at Lyons to kill a Huguenot who +preached revolt. While one of them remains in France, there will +be no tranquillity for us. Let us exterminate them. To arms! +to arms!" + +Several voices repeated, "To arms!" + +"Par la mordieu!" said the king, "make this fellow hold his tongue, +or he will make a second St. Bartholomew!" + +"Wait," said Chicot, and with his stick he struck Gorenflot with +all his force on the shoulders. + +"Murder!" cried the monk. + +"It is you!" cried Chicot. + +"Help me, M. Chicot, help me! The enemies of the faith wish to +assassinate me, but I will not die without making my voice heard. +Death to the Huguenots!" + +"Will you hold your tongue?" cried Chicot. But at this moment +a second blow fell on the shoulders of the monk with such force +that he cried out with real pain. Chicot, astonished, looked +round him, but saw nothing but the stick. The blow had been given +by a man who had immediately disappeared in the crowd after +administering this punishment. + +"Who the devil could it have been?" thought Chicot, and he began +to run after the man, who was gliding away, followed by only +one companion. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +THE RUE DE LA FERRONNERIE. + +Chicot had good legs, and he would have made the best use of them +to join the man who had beaten Gorenflot if he had not imagined +that there might be danger in trying to recognize a man who so +evidently wished to avoid it. He thought the best way not to +seem to watch them was to pass them; so he ran on, and passed +them at the corner of the Rue Tirechappe, and then hid himself +at the end of the Rue des Bourdonnais. The two men went on, their +hats slouched over their eyes, and their cloaks drawn up over +their faces, with a quick and military step, until they reached +the Rue de la Ferronnerie. There they stopped and looked round +them. Chicot, who was still ahead, saw in the middle of the street, +before a house so old that it looked falling to pieces, a litter, +attached to which were two horses. The driver had fallen asleep, +while a woman, apparently unquiet, was looking anxiously through +the blind. Chicot hid himself behind a large stone wall, which +served as stalls for the vegetable sellers on the days when the +market was held in this street, and watched. Scarcely was he +hidden, when he saw the two men approach the litter, one of whom, +on seeing the driver asleep, uttered an impatient exclamation, while +the other pushed him to awaken him. "Oh, they are compatriots!" +thought Chicot. The lady now leaned out of the window, and Chicot +saw that she was young, very pale, but very beautiful. The two +men approached the litter, and the taller of the two took in +both of his the little white hand which was stretched out to him. + +"Well, ma mie," asked he, "how are you?" + +"I have been very anxious," replied she. + +"Why the devil did you bring madame to Paris?" said the other +man rudely. + +"Ma foi! it is a malediction that you must always have a petticoat +tacked to your doublet!" + +"Ah, dear Agrippa," replied the man who had spoken first, "it +is so great a grief to part from one you love." + +"On my soul, you make me swear to hear you talk! Did you come +to Paris to make love? It seems to me that Bearn is large enough +for your sentimental promenades, without continuing them in this +Babylon, where you have nearly got us killed twenty times to-day. +Go home, if you wish to make love, but, here, keep to your political +intrigues, my master." + +"Let him scold, ma mie, and never mind him; I think he would be +ill if he did not." + +"But, at least, ventre St. Gris, as you say, get into the litter, +and say your sweet things to madame; you will run less risk of +being recognized there than in the open street." + +"You are right, Agrippa. Give me a place, ma mie, if you permit +me to sit by your side." + +"Permit, sire; I desire it ardently," replied the lady. + +"Sire!" murmured Chicot, who, carried away by an impulse, tried +to raise his head, and knocked it against the stone wall. Meanwhile +the happy lover profited by the permission given, and seated +himself in the litter. + +"Oh! how happy I am," he cried, without attending in the least +to the impatience of his friend--"ventre St. Gris, this is a +good day. Here are my good Parisians, who execrate me with all +their souls, and would kill me if they could, working to smooth +my way to the throne, and I have in my arms the woman I love. +Where are we, D'Aubigne? when I am king, I will erect here a +statue to the genius of the Bearnais." + +"The Bearn----" began Chicot, but he stopped, for he had given his +head a second bump. + +"We are in the Rue de la Ferronnerie, sire," said D'Aubigne, "and +it does not smell nice." + +"Get in then, Agrippa, and we will go on." + +"Ma foi, no, I will follow behind; I should annoy you, and, what +is worse, you would annoy me." + +"Shut the door then, bear of Bearn, and do as you like." Then +to the coachman he said, "Lavarrenne, you know where." + +The litter went slowly away, followed by D'Aubigne. + +"Let me see," said Chicot, "must I tell Henri what I have seen? +Why should I? two men and a woman, who hide themselves; it would be +cowardly. I will not tell; that I know it myself is the important +point, for is it not I who reign? His love was very pretty, but +he loves too often, this dear Henri of Navarre. A year ago it +was Madame de Sauve, and I suppose this was La Fosseuse. However, +I love the Bearnais, for I believe some day he will do an ill +turn to those dear Guises. Well! I have seen everyone to-day +but the Duc d'Anjou; he alone is wanting to my list of princes. +Where can my Francois III. be? Ventre de biche, I must look for +the worthy monarch." + +Chicot was not the only person who was seeking for the Duc d'Anjou, +and unquiet at his absence. The Guises had also sought for him on +all sides, but they were not more lucky than Chicot. M. d'Anjou +was not the man to risk himself imprudently, and we shall see +afterwards what precautions had kept him from his friends. Once +Chicot thought he had found him in the Rue Bethisy; a numerous +group was standing at the door of a wine-merchant; and in this +group Chicot recognized M. de Monsoreau and M. de Guise, and +fancied that the Duc d'Anjou could not be far off. But he was +wrong. MM. de Monsoreau and Guise were occupied in exciting still +more an orator in his stammering eloquence. This orator was +Gorenflot, recounting his journey to Lyons, and his duel in an +inn with a dreadful Huguenot. M. de Guise was listening intently, +for he began to fancy it had something to do with the silence +of Nicolas David. Chicot was terrified; he felt sure that in +another moment Gorenflot would pronounce his name, which would +throw a fatal light on the mystery. Chicot in an instant cut the +bridles of some of the horses that were fastened up, and giving +them each a violent blow, sent them galloping among the crowd, +which opened, and began to disperse in different directions. Chicot +passed quickly through the groups, and approaching Gorenflot, +took Panurge by the bridle and turned him round. The Duc de Guise +was already separated from them by the rush of the people, and +Chicot led off Gorenflot to a kind of cul-de-sac by the church +of St. Germain l'Auxerrois. + +"Ah! drunkard!" said he to him, "ah! traitor! you will then always +prefer a bottle of wine to your friend.' + +"Ah! M. Chicot," stammered the monk. + +"What! I feed you, wretch, I give you drink, I fill your pockets +and your stomach, and you betray me." + +"Ah! M. Chicot!" + +"You tell my secrets, wretch." + +"Dear friend." + +"Hold your tongue; you are but a sycophant, and deserve punishment." + +And the monk, vigorous and strong, powerful as a bull, but overcome +by wine and repentance, remained without defending himself in +the hands of Chicot, who shook him like a balloon full of air. + +"A punishment to me, to your friend, dear M. Chicot!" + +"Yes, to you," said Chicot, striking him over the shoulders with +his stick. + +"Ah! if I were but fasting." + +"You would beat me, I suppose; I, your friend." + +"My friend! and you treat me thus!" + +"He who loves well chastises well," said Chicot, redoubling his +proofs of friendship. "Now," said he, "go and sleep at the Corne +d'Abondance." + +"I can no longer see my way," cried the monk, from whose eyes +tears were falling. + +"Ah!" said Chicot, "if you wept for the wine you have drunk! However, +I will guide you." + +And taking the ass by the bridle, he led him to the hotel, where +two men assisted Gorenflot to dismount, and led him up to the +room which our readers already know. + +"It is done," said the host, returning. + +"He is in bed?" + +"Yes, and snoring." + +"Very well. But as he will awake some day or other, remember +that I do not wish that he should know how he came here; indeed, +it will be better that he should not know that he has been out +since the famous night when he made such a noise in the convent, +and that he should believe that all that has passed since is a +dream." + +"Very well, M. Chicot; but what has happened to the poor monk?" + +"A great misfortune. It appears that at Lyons he quarreled with +an agent of M. de Mayenne's and killed him." + +"Oh! mon Dieu!" + +"So that M. de Mayenne has sworn that he will have him broken +on the wheel." + +"Make yourself easy, monsieur; he shall not go out from here on +any pretext." + +"Good. And now," said Chicot, as he went away, "I must find the +Duc d'Anjou." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +THE PRINCE AND THE FRIEND. + +We may remember that the Duc de Guise had invited the Duc d'Anjou +to meet him in the streets of Paris that evening. However, he +determined not to go out of his palace unless he was well +accompanied; therefore the duke went to seek his sword, which +was Bussy d'Amboise. For the duke to make up his mind to this +step he must have been very much afraid; for since his deception +with regard to M. de Monsoreau he had not seen Bussy, and stood +in great dread of him. Bussy, like all fine natures, felt sorrow +more vividly than pleasure; for it is rare that a man intrepid +in danger, cold and calm in the face of fire and sword, does not +give way to grief more easily than a coward. Those from whom a +woman can draw tears most easily are those most to be feared by +other men. Bussy had seen Diana received at court as Comtesse +de Monsoreau, and as such admitted by the queen into the circle +of her maids of honor; he had seen a thousand curious eyes fixed +on her unrivaled beauty. During the whole evening he had fastened +his ardent gaze on her, who never raised her eyes to him, and +he, unjust, like every man in love, never thought how she must +have been suffering from not daring to meet his sympathizing +glance. + +"Oh," said he to himself, seeing that he waited uselessly for +a look, "women have skill and audacity only when they want to +deceive a guardian, a husband, or a mother; they are awkward +and cowardly when they have simply a debt of gratitude to pay, +they fear so much to seem to love--they attach so exaggerated +a value to their least favor, that they do not mind breaking +their lover's heart, if such be their humor. Diana might have +said to me frankly, 'I thank you for what you have done for me, +but I do not love you.' The blow would have killed or cured me. +But no; she prefers letting me love her hopelessly; but she has +gained nothing by it, for I no longer love her, I despise her." + +And he went away with rage in his heart. + +"I am mad," thought he, "to torment myself about a person who +disdains me. But why does she disdain me, or for whom? Not, +surely, for that long, livid-looking skeleton, who, always by +her side, covers her incessantly with his jealous glances. If +I wished it, in a quarter of an hour I could hold him mute and +cold under my knee with ten inches of steel in his heart, and +if I cannot be loved, I could at least be terrible and hated. +Oh, her hatred! Rather than her indifference. Yes, but to act +thus would be to do what a Quelus or a Maugiron would do if they +knew how to love. Better to resemble that hero of Plutarch whom +I so much admired, the young Antiochus, dying of love and never +avowing it, nor uttering a complaint. Am I not called the brave +Bussy?" + +He went home, and threw himself on a chair. How long he remained +there he did not know when a man approached him. + +"M. le Comte," said he, "you are in a fever." + +"Ah, is it you, Remy?" + +"Yes, count. Go to bed," + +Bussy obeyed, and all the next day Remy watched by him, with +refreshing drinks for his body and kind words for his mind. But +on the day after Bussy missed him. "Poor lad!" thought he, "he +was tired and wanted air; and then doubtless Gertrude expected +him; she is but a femme de chambre, but she loves, and a femme +de chambre who loves is better than a queen who does not." + +The day passed, and Remy did not return. Bussy was angry and +impatient. "Oh!" cried he, "I, who still believed in gratitude +and friendship, will henceforth believe in nothing." Towards +evening he heard voices in his ante-chamber, and a servant entered, +saying, "It is Monseigneur the Duc d'Anjou." + +"Let him enter," said Bussy, frowning. + +The duke, on entering the room, which was without lights, said, +"It is too dark here, Bussy." + +Bussy did not answer; disgust closed his mouth. "Are you really +ill," said the duke, "that you do not answer?" + +"I am very ill." + +"Then that is why I have not seen you for two days?" + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +The prince, piqued at these short answers, began to examine the +room. + +"You seem to me well lodged, Bussy," said he. + +Bussy did not reply. + +"Bussy must be very ill," said the duke to an attendant who stood +by, "why was not Miron called? The king's doctor is not too good +for Bussy." When the servant was gone, "Are you in grief, Bussy?" +said the duke. + +"I do not know." + +The duke approached, becoming more and more gracious as he was +rebuffed. "Come, speak frankly, Bussy," said he. + +"What am I to say, monseigneur?" + +"You are angry with me?" + +"I! for what? besides, it is no use to be angry with princes." +The duke was silent. + +"But," said Bussy, "we are losing time in preambles; to the point, +monseigneur. You have need of me, I suppose?" + +"Ah, M. de Bussy!" + +"Yes, doubtless; do you think I believe that you come here through +friendship; you, who love no one?" + +"Oh, Bussy, to say such things to me!" + +"Well, be quick, monseigneur, what do you want? When one serves +a prince, and he dissimulates to the extent of calling you his +friend, one must pay for the dissimulation by being ready to +sacrifice everything, even life, if necessary." + +The duke colored, but it was too dark to see it. "I wanted nothing +of you, Bussy, and you deceive yourself in thinking my visit +interested. I desire only, seeing the fine evening, and that +all Paris is out to sign the League, that you should accompany +me a little about the streets." + +Bussy looked at him. "Have you not Aurilly to go with you?" + +"A lute-player!" + +"Ah, monseigneur, you do not mention all his qualities; I believed +that he fulfilled other functions for you. Besides, you have a +dozen other gentlemen; I hear them in the ante-chamber." + +At this moment the door opened. "Who is there?" said the duke, +haughtily. "Who enters unannounced where I am?" + +"I, Remy," replied the young man, without any embarrassment. + +"Who is Remy?" + +"The doctor, monseigneur," said the young man. + +"And my friend," said Bussy. "You heard what monseigneur asks?" +continued he, turning to Remy. + +"Yes, that you should accompany him; but----" + +"But what?" said the duke. + +"But you cannot do it!" + +"And why so?" cried the duke. + +"Because it is too cold out of doors." + +"Too cold!" cried the duke, surprised that any one should oppose +him. + +"Yes, too cold. Therefore I, who answer for M. Bussy's life to +himself and to his friends, must forbid him to go out." And he +pressed Bussy's hand in a significant manner. + +"Very well," said the duke, "if the risk be so great, he must +stay." And he turned angrily to the door; but returning to the +bed, he said, "Then you have decided not to come?" + +"Monseigneur, you hear that the doctor forbids me." + +"You ought to see Miron, he is a great doctor." + +"I prefer my friend." + +"Then adieu." + +"Adieu, monseigneur." + +No sooner was the duke gone than Remy said, "Now, monsieur, get +up at once, if you please." + +"What for?" + +"To come out with me. This room is too warm." + +"You said just now to the duke that it was too cold outside." + +"The temperature has changed since." + +"So that----" said Bussy, with curiosity. + +"So that now I am convinced that the air will do you good." + +"I do not understand." + +"Do you understand the medicines I give you? Yet you take them. +Come, get up; a walk with M. d'Anjou is dangerous, with me it is +healthy. Have you lost confidence in me? If so, send me away." + +"Well, as you wish it." And he rose, pale and trembling. + +"An interesting paleness," said Remy. + +"But where are we going?" + +"To a place where I have analyzed the air to-day." + +"And this air?" + +"Is sovereign for your complaint, monseigneur." + +Bussy dressed, and they went out. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +ETYMOLOGY OF THE RUE DE LA JUSSIENNE. + +Remy took his patient by the arm, and led him by the Rue Coquilliere +down to the rampart. + +"It is strange," said Bussy, "you take me near the marsh of the +Grange-Batelier, and call it healthy." + +"Oh, monsieur, a little patience; we are going to turn round +the Rue Pagavin, and get into the Rue Montmartre--you will see +what a fine street that is." + +"As if I do not know it." + +"Well, so much the better; I need not lose time in showing you +its beauties, and I will lead you at once into a pretty little +street." + +Indeed, after going a few steps down the Rue Montmartre, they +turned to the right. + +"This," said Remy, "is the Rue de la Gypecienne, or Egyptienne, +which you like; often called by the people the Rue de la Gyssienne, +or Jussienne." + +"Very likely; but where are we going?" + +"Do you see that little church?" said Remy. "How nicely it is +situated; I dare say you never remarked it before." + +"No, I did not know it." + +"Well, now that you have seen the exterior, enter and look at +the windows--they are very curious." + +There was such a pleased smile on the young man's face, that +Bussy felt sure there must have been some other reason for making +him enter than to look at the windows which it was too dark to +see. The chapel was lighted, however, for service, and Remy began +examining a fresco of the Virgin Mary, which was a continual +source of complaint to the women who frequented the church, as +they said that it attracted the attention of the young shopkeepers +away from them. + +"You had some other object in bringing me here than that I should +admire the St. Marie, had you not?" + +"Ma foi! no." + +"Then let us go." + +"Wait a moment; the service is finishing." + +"Now let us go," said Bussy; "they are moving;" and he walked +to the door. + +"At least take some holy water." + +Bussy obeyed, and Remy making a sign to a woman who stood near, +she advanced, and Bussy grew suddenly pale, for he recognized +Gertrude. She saluted him and passed on, but behind her came +a figure which, although closely veiled, made his heart beat +fast. Remy looked at him, and Bussy knew now why he had brought +him to this church. Bussy followed the lady, and Remy followed +him. Gertrude had walked on before, until she came to an alley +closed by a door. She opened it, and let her mistress pass. Bussy +followed, and the two others disappeared. + +It was half-past seven in the evening, and near the beginning +of May; the air began to have the feeling of spring, and the +leaves were beginning to unfold themselves. Bussy looked round +him, and found himself in a little garden fifty feet square, +surrounded by high walls covered with vines and moss. The first +lilacs which had begun to open in the morning sun sent out their +sweet emanations, and the young man felt tempted to think that +so much perfume and warmth and life came to him only from the +presence of the woman he loved so tenderly. + +On a little wooden bench sat Diana, twisting in her fingers a +sprig of wall-flower, which she had picked, without knowing what +she did. As Bussy approached her, she raised her head, and said +timidly, "M. le Comte, all deception would be unworthy of us; +if you found me at the church of St. Marie l'Egyptienne, it was +not chance that brought you there." + +"No, madame; Remy took me out without my knowing where I was going, +and I swear to you that I was ignorant----" + +"You do not understand me, monsieur, I know well that M. Remy +brought you there, by force, perhaps." + +"No, madame, not by force; I did not know that he was going to +take me to see any one." + +"That is a harsh speech," said Diana, sadly, and with tears in +her eyes. "Do you mean that had you known, you would not have +come?" + +"Oh, madame!" + +"It would have been but just, monsieur; you did me a great service, +and I have not thanked you. Pardon me, and receive all my thanks." + +"Madame----" Bussy stopped; he felt so overcome, that he had neither +words nor ideas. + +"But I wished to prove to you," continued Diana, "that I am not +ungrateful, nor forgetful. It was I who begged M. Remy to procure +for me the honor of this interview; it was I who sought for it, +forgive me if I have displeased you." + +"Oh, madame! you cannot think that." + +"I know," continued Diana, who was the strongest, because she +had prepared herself for this interview, "how much trouble you +had in fulfilling my commission; I know all your delicacy; I +know it and appreciate it, believe me. Judge, then, what I must +have suffered from the idea that you would misunderstand the +sentiments of my heart." + +"Madame, I have been ill for three days." + +"Oh! I know," cried Diana, with a rising color, "and I suffered +more than you, for M. Remy, he deceived me, no doubt; for he +made me believe----" + +"That your forgetfulness caused it. Oh! it is true." + +"Then I have been right to do as I have done; to see you, to thank +you for your kindness, and to swear to you an eternal gratitude. +Do you believe that I speak from the bottom of my heart?" + +Bussy shook his head sadly, and did not reply. + +"Do you doubt my words?" said Diana. + +"Madame, those who feel a kindness for you, show it when they +can. You knew I was at the palace the night of your presentation, +you knew I was close to you, you must have felt my looks fixed +on you, and you never raised your eyes to me, you never let me +know by a word, a sign, or a gesture, that you were aware of +my presence; but perhaps you did not recognize me, madame, you +have only seen me twice." Diana replied with so sad a glance +of reproach, that Bussy was moved by it. + +"Pardon, madame," said he; "you are not an ordinary woman, and +yet you act like them. This marriage----" + +"I was forced to conclude it." + +"Yes, but it was easy to break." + +"Impossible, on the contrary." + +"Did you not know that near you watched a devoted friend?" + +"Even that made me fear." + +"And you did not think of what my life would be, when you belonged +to another. But perhaps you kept the name of Monsoreau from +choice?" + +"Do you think so?" murmured Diana; "so much the better." And +her eyes filled with tears. Bussy walked up and down in great +agitation. + +"I am to become once more a stranger to you," said he. + +"Alas!" + +"Your silence says enough." + +"I can only speak by my silence." + +"At the Louvre you would not see me, and now you will not speak +to me." + +"At the Louvre I was watched by M. de Monsoreau, and he is jealous." + +"Jealous! What does he want then? mon Dieu! whose happiness can +he envy, when all the world is envying his?" + +"I tell you he is jealous; for the last two or three days he has +seen some one wandering round our new abode." + +"Then you have quitted the Rue St. Antoine?" + +"How!" cried Diana thoughtlessly, "then it was not you?" + +"Madame, since your marriage was publicly announced, since that +evening at the Louvre, where you did not deign to look at me, I +have been in bed, devoured by fever, so you see that your husband +could not be jealous of me, at least." + +"Well! M. le Comte, if it be true that you had any desire to see +me, you must thank this unknown man; for knowing M. de Monsoreau +as I know him, this man made me tremble for you, and I wished +to see you and say to you, 'Do not expose yourself so, M. le +Comte; do not make me more unhappy than I am.'" + +"Reassure yourself, madame; it was not I." + +"Now, let me finish what I have to say. In the fear of this man--whom +I do not know, but whom M. de Monsoreau does perhaps--he exacts +that I should leave Paris, so that," said Diana, holding out her +hand to Bussy, "you may look upon this as our last meeting, M. le +Comte. To-morrow we start for Meridor." + +"You are going, madame?" + +"There is no other way to reassure M. de Monsoreau; no other way +for me to be at peace. Besides, I myself detest Paris, the world, +the court, and the Louvre. I wish to be alone with my souvenirs +of my happy past; perhaps a little of my former happiness will +return to me there. My father will accompany me, and I shall +find there M. and Madame de St. Luc, who expect me. Adieu, M. +de Bussy." + +Bussy hid his face in his hands. "All is over for me," he murmured. + +"What do you say?" said Diana. + +"I say, madame, that this man exiles you, that he takes from +me the only hope left to me, that of breathing the same air as +yourself, of seeing you sometimes, of touching your dress as +you pass. Oh! this man is my mortal enemy, and if I perish for +it, I will destroy him with my own hands." + +"Oh! M. le Comte!" + +"The wretch; it is not enough for him that you are his wife: +you, the most beautiful and most charming of creatures, but he +is still jealous. Jealous! The devouring monster would absorb +the whole world!" + +"Oh! calm yourself, comte; mon Dieu; he is excusable, perhaps." + +"He is excusable! you defend him, madame?" + +"Oh! if you knew!" cried Diana, covering her face with her hands. + +"If I knew! Oh! madame, I know one thing; he who is your husband +is wrong to think of the rest of the world." + +"But!" cried Diana, in a broken voice, "if you were wrong, M. +le Comte, and if he were not." + +And the young woman, touching with her cold hand the burning ones +of Bussy, rose and fled among the somber alleys of the garden, +seized Gertrude's arm and dragged her away, before Bussy, astonished +and overwhelmed with delight, had time to stretch out his arms +to retain her. He uttered a cry and tottered; Remy arrived in +time to catch him in his arms and make him sit down on the bench +that Diana had just quitted. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +HOW D'EPERNON HAD HIS DOUBLET TORN, AND HOW CHOMBERG WAS STAINED +BLUE. + +While M. la Huriere piled signature upon signature, while Chicot +consigned Gorenflot to the Corne d'Abondance, while Bussy returned +to life in the happy little garden full of perfume and love, +the king, annoyed at all he had seen in the city, and furious +against his brother, whom he had seen pass in the Rue St. Honore, +accompanied by MM. de Guise and Monsoreau, and followed by a +whole train of gentlemen, re-entered the Louvre, accompanied +by Maugiron and Quelus. He had gone out with all four of his +friends, but, at some steps from the Louvre, Schomberg and D'Epernon +had profited by the first crush to disappear, counting on some +adventures in such a turbulent night. Before they had gone one +hundred yards D'Epernon had passed his sword-sheath between the +legs of a citizen who was running, and who tumbled down in +consequence, and Schomberg had pulled the cap off the head of +a young and pretty woman. But both had badly chosen their day +for attacking these good Parisians, generally so patient; for a +spirit of revolt was prevalent in the streets, and the bourgeois +rose, crying out for aid, and the husband of the young woman +launched his apprentices on Schomberg. He was brave; therefore +he stopped, put his hand on his sword, and spoke in a high tone. +D'Epernon was prudent; he fled. + +Henri had entered his room at the Louvre, and, seated in his +great armchair, was trembling with impatience, and seeking a +good pretext for getting into a passion. Maugiron was playing +with Narcissus, the large greyhound, and Quelus was sitting near. + +"They go on!" cried Henri, "their plot advances; sometimes tigers, +sometimes serpents; when they do not spring they glide." + +"Oh, sire!" said Quelus, "are there not always plots in a kingdom? +What the devil could all the sons, brothers, and cousins of kings +do if they did not plot?" And Quelus irreverently turned his +back to the king. + +"Hear, Maugiron," said the king, "with what nonsense he tries +to put me off." + +"Well, sire, look at Narcissus; he is a good dog, but when you +pull his ears, he growls, and when you tread on his toes he bites." + +"Here is the other comparing me to my dog!" + +"Not so, sire; I place Narcissus far above you, for he knows +how to defend himself, and you do not." And he also turned his +back. + +"That is right," cried the king, "my good friends, for whom they +accuse me of despoiling the kingdom, abandon me, insult me! Ah, +Chicot! if you were here." + +At this moment, however, the door opened, and D'Epernon appeared, +without hat or cloak, and with his doublet all torn. + +"Bon Dieu!" cried Henri, "what is the matter?" + +"Sire," said D'Epernon, "look at me; see how they treat the friends +of your majesty." + +"Who has treated you thus?" + +"Mordieu, your people; or rather the people of; M. le Duc d'Anjou, +who cried, 'Vive la Messe!' 'Vive Guise!' 'Vive Francois!--vive +everyone, in fact, except the king." + +"And what did you do to be treated thus?" + +"I? nothing. What can a man do to a people? They recognized me +for your majesty's friend, and that was enough." + +"But Schomberg?" + +"Well?" + +"Did he not come to your aid? did he not defend you?" + +"Corboeuf! he had enough to do on his own account." + +"How so?" + +"I left him in the hands of a dyer whose wife's cap he had pulled +off, and who, with his five or six apprentices, seemed likely +to make him pass an unpleasant quarter of an hour." + +"Par la mordieu! and where did you leave my poor Schomberg? I +will go myself to his aid. They may say," continued he, looking +at Maugiron and Quelus, "that my friends abandon me, but they +shall never say that I abandon them." + +"Thanks, sire," said a voice behind Henri; "thanks, but here +I am; I extricated myself without assistance; but, mein Gott! +it was not without trouble." + +"It is Schomberg's voice," cried all, "but where the devil is +he?" + +"Here I am," cried the voice; and indeed, in the corner of the +room they saw something that looked not like a man but a shadow. + +"Schomberg," cried the king, "where do you come from, and why +are you that color?" + +Indeed, Schomberg from head to foot was of a most beautiful blue. + +"Der Teufel!" cried he, "the wretches! It is not wonderful that +the people ran after me." + +"But what is the matter?" + +"The matter is, that they dipped me in a vat, the knaves; I believed +that it was only water, but it was indigo." + +"Oh, mordieu!" cried Quelus, bursting out laughing, "indigo is +very dear; you must have carried away at least twenty crowns' +worth of indigo." + +"I wish you had been in my place." + +"And you did not kill any one?" + +"I left my poniard somewhere, that is all I know, up to the hilt +in a sheath of flesh; but in a second I was taken, carried off, +dipped in the vat, and almost drowned." + +"And how did you get out of their hands?" + +"By committing a cowardice, sire." + +"What was that?" + +"Crying, 'Vive la Ligue!'" + +"That was like me; only they made me add, 'Vive le Duc d'Anjou!'" +said D'Epernon. + +"And I also," cried Schomberg; "but that is not all." + +"What, my poor Schomberg, did they make you cry something else?" + +"No, that was enough, God knows; but just as I cried, 'Vive le +Duc d'Anjou,' guess who passed." + +"How can I guess?" + +"Bussy; his cursed Bussy, who heard me." + +"He could not understand." + +"Parbleu! it was not difficult to understand. I had a poniard +at my throat, and I was in a vat." + +"And he did not come to your rescue?" + +"It seemed as though he was in a dreadful hurry; he scarcely seemed +to touch the ground." + +"Perhaps he did not recognize you, as you were blue." + +"Ah! very likely." + +"He would be excusable," said the king; "for, indeed, my poor +Schomberg, I should hardly have known you myself." + +"Never mind; we shall meet some other time, when I am not in a +vat." + +"Oh! as for me," said D'Epernon, "it is his master I should like +to punish." + +"The Duc d'Anjou, whose praises they are singing all over Paris," +said Quelus. + +"The fact is, that he is master of Paris to-night," said D'Epernon. + +"Ah, my brother! my brother!" cried the king. "Ah! yes, sire; +you cry, 'my brother,' but you do nothing against him; and yet +it is clear to me that he is at the head of some plot." said +Schomberg. + +"Eh, mordieu! that is what I was saying just before you came in, +to these gentlemen, and they replied by shrugging their shoulders +and turning their backs." + +"Not because you said there was a plot, sire, but because you +do nothing to suppress it." + +"And, now," said Quelus, "we say, 'Save us,' sire; or rather, +save yourself; to-morrow M. de Guise will come to the Louvre, and +ask you to name a chief for the League; if you name M. d'Anjou, as +you promised, he, at the head of one hundred thousand Parisians, +excited by this night, can do what he likes." + +"Then," said Henri, "if I take a decisive step, you will support +me?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"If, sire, you will only give me time to remodel my dress," said +D'Epernon. + +"Go to my room, D'Epernon; my valet de chambre will give you what +you want." + +"And I, sire, must have a bath," said Schomberg. + +"Go to my bath." + +"Then I may hope, sire, that my insult will not remain unavenged." + +Henri remained silent a moment, and then said, "Quelus, ask if +M. d'Anjou has returned to the Louvre." + +Quelus went, but came back, and said that the duke had not yet +returned. + +"Well, you, Quelus and Maugiron, go down and watch for his entrance." + +"And then?" + +"Have all the doors shut." + +"Bravo! sire." + +"I will be back in ten minutes, sire," said D'Epernon. + +"And my stay will depend on the quality of the dye," said Schomberg. + +"Come as soon as possible," said the king. + +The young men went out, and the king, left alone, kneeled down +on his prie-Dieu. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +CHICOT MORE THAN EVER KING OF FRANCE. + +The gates of the Louvre were generally closed at twelve, but +the king gave orders that they should be left open on this night +till one. At a quarter to one Quelus came up. + +"Sire," said he, "the duke has come in." + +"What is Maugiron doing?" + +"Watching that he does not go out again." + +"There is no danger." + +"Then----" + +"Let him go to bed quietly. Whom has he with him?" + +"M. de Monsoreau and his ordinary gentlemen." + +"And M. de Bussy?" + +"No; he is not there." + +"So much the better." + +"What are your orders, sire?" + +"Tell Schomberg and D'Epernon to be quick, and let M. de Monsoreau +know that I wish to speak to him." + +Five minutes after, Schomberg and D'Epernon entered; the former +with only a slight blue tint left, which it would take several +baths to eradicate, and the latter newly clothed. After them, +M. de Monsoreau appeared. "The captain of the guards has just +announced to me that your majesty did me the honor to send for +me," said he. + +"Yes, monsieur; when I was out this evening, I saw the stars +so brilliant, and the moon so clear, that I thought it would +be splendid weather for the chase to-morrow; so, M. le Comte, +set off at once for Vincennes, and get a stag turned out ready +for me." + +"But, sire, I thought that to-morrow your majesty had given a +rendezvous to Monsieur le Duc d'Anjou and M. de Guise, in order +to name a chief for the League." + +"Well, monsieur?" said the king haughtily. + +"Sire, there might not be time." + +"There is always time, monsieur, for those who know how to employ +it; that is why I tell you to set off at once, so that you may +have all ready for to-morrow morning at ten. Quelus, Schomberg, +have the door of the Louvre opened for M. de Monsoreau, and have +it closed behind him." + +The chief huntsman retired in astonishment. "It is a whim of the +king's," said he to the young men. + +"Yes." + +They watched him out, and then returned to the king. + +"Now," said Henri, "silence, and all four of you follow me." + +"Where are we going, sire?" said D'Epernon. + +"Those who follow will see." + +The king took a lantern in his hand, and led the young men along +the secret corridor, which led to his brother's rooms. A +valet-de-chambre watched here; but before he had time to warn +his master, Henri ordered him to be silent, and the young men +pushed him into a room and locked the door. + +Henri opened his brother's door. Francois had gone to bed full of +dreams of ambition, which the events of the evening had nourished; +he had heard his name exalted, and the king's abused. Conducted +by the Duc de Guise, he had seen the Parisians open everywhere +for him and his gentlemen, while those of the king were insulted +and hooted. Never since the commencement of his career had he +been so popular, and consequently so hopeful. He had placed on +the table a letter from M. de Guise, which had been brought to +him by M. de Monsoreau. His surprise and terror were great when +he saw the secret door open, and still more when he recognized +the king. Henri signed to his companions to remain on the +threshold, and advanced to the bed, frowning, but silent. + +"Sire," stammered the duke, "the honor that your majesty does +me is so unlooked for----" + +"That it frightens you, does it not? But stay where you are, my +brother; do not rise." + +"But, sire, only--permit me----" and he drew towards him the letter +of M. de Guise. + +"You are reading?" asked the king. + +"Yes, sire." + +"Something interesting to keep you awake at this time of night?" + +"Oh, sire, nothing very important; the evening courier----" + +"Oh, yes, I understand--Courier of Venus; but no, I see I am +wrong--they do not seal billet-doux with seals of that size." + +The duke hid the letter altogether. + +"How discreet this dear Francois is!" said the king, with a smile +which frightened his brother. However, making an effort to recover +himself, he said: + +"Did your majesty wish to say anything particular to me?" + +"What I have to say to you, monsieur, I wish to say before witnesses. +Here, gentlemen," continued he, turning to the four young men, +"listen to us; I order you." + +"Sire," said the duke, with a glance full of rage and hatred, +"before insulting a man of my rank, you should have refused me +the hospitality of the Louvre; in the Hotel d'Anjou, at least, +I should have been free to reply to you." + +"Really, you forget, then, that wherever you are, you are my +subject; that I am the king, and that every house is mine." + +"Sire, I am at the Louvre, at my mother's." + +"And your mother is in my house. But to the point--give me that +paper." + +"Which?" + +"That which you were reading, which was on your table, and which +you hid when I came in." + +"Sire, reflect." + +"On what?" + +"On this, that you are making a request unworthy of a gentleman, +and fit only for a police-officer." + +The king grew livid. "That letter, monsieur!" + +"A woman's letter, sire." + +"There are some women's letters very good to see, and dangerous +not to see--such as those our mother writes." + +"Brother!" + +"This letter, monsieur!" cried the king, stamping his foot, "or +I will have it torn from you by my Swiss!" + +The duke jumped out of bed, with the letter crumpled in his hand, +evidently with the intention of approaching the fire. But Henri, +divining his intention, placed himself between him and the fire. + +"You would not treat your brother thus?" cried the duke. + +"Not my brother, but my mortal enemy. Not my brother, but the +Duc D'Anjou, who went all through Paris with M. de Guise, who +tries to hide from me a letter from one of his accomplices, the +Lorraine princes." + +"This time," said the duke, "your police are wrong." + +"I tell you I saw on the seal the three merlets of Lorraine. Give +it to me, mordieu! or----" + +Henri advanced towards his brother and laid his hand on his shoulder. +Francois had no sooner felt the touch of his hand than, falling +on his knees, he cried out, "Help! help! my brother is going +to kill me." + +These words, uttered in an accent of profound terror, startled +the king and mitigated his rage. The idea passed quickly through +his mind that in their family, as by a curse, brother had always +assassinated brother. + +"No, my brother," said he, "you are wrong; I do not wish to hurt +you, but you cannot contend with me. I am the master, and if +you did not know it before, you know it now." + +"Yes, my brother, I acknowledge it." + +"Very well, then give me that letter; the king orders it." + +The duke let it fall, and the king picked it up, but without reading +it put it in his pocket-book. + +"Is that all?" said the duke, with his sinister glance. + +"No, monsieur, you must keep your room until my suspicions with +respect to you are completely dissipated. The room is commodious, +and not much like a prison; stay here. You will have good company--at +least, outside the door, for this night these four gentlemen +will guard you; to-morrow they will be relieved by a guard of +Swiss." + +"But, my friends--cannot I see them?" + +"Who do you call your friends?" + +"M. de Monsoreau, M. de Ribeirac, M. Antragues, and M. de Bussy." + +"Oh, yes, he, of course." + +"Has he had the misfortune to displease your majesty?" + +"Yes." + +"When, sire?" + +"Always, but particularly to-night." + +"To-night! what did he do?" + +"Insulted me in the streets of Paris." + +"You?" + +"My followers, which is the same thing." + +"Bussy! you have been deceived, sire." + +"I know what I say." + +"Sire, M. de Bussy has not been out of his hotel for two days. +He is at home, ill in bed, burning with fever." + +The king turned to Schomberg, who said, "If he had fever, at all +events he had it in the Rue Coquilliere." + +"Who told you he was there?" said the duke. + +"I saw him." + +"You saw Bussy out of doors?" + +"Yes, looking well and happy, and accompanied by his ordinary +follower, that Remy." + +"Then I do not understand it; I saw him in bed myself; he must +have deceived me." + +"It is well; he will be punished with the rest," said the king. + +"If M. de Bussy went out alone after refusing to go out with +me----" + +"You hear, gentlemen, what my brother says. But we will talk +of him another time; now I recommend my brother to your care; +you will have the honor of serving as guard to a prince of the +blood." + +"Oh! sire," said Quelus, "be satisfied; we know what we owe to +M. le Duc." + +"It is well; adieu, gentlemen." + +"Sire," cried the duke, "am I really a prisoner, are my friends +not to visit me, and am I not to go out?" And the idea of the +next day presented itself to his mind, when his presence would +be so necessary to M. de Guise. "Sire," cried he again, "let me +at least remain near your majesty; it is my place, and I can be +as well guarded there as elsewhere. Sire, grant me this favor." + +The king was about to yield to this request and say, "Yes," when +his attention was attracted to the door, where a long body, with +its arms, its head, and everything that it could move, was making +signs to him to say "No." It was Chicot. + +"No," said Henri to his brother; "you are very well here, and +here you must stay." + +"Sire----" + +"It is my pleasure, and that is enough," said the king, haughtily. + +"I said I was the real King of France," murmured Chicot. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +HOW CHICOT PAID A VISIT TO BUSSY, AND WHAT FOLLOWED. + +The next morning, about nine, Bussy was eating his breakfast, +and talking with Remy over the events of the previous day. + +"Remy," said he, "did you not think you had seen somewhere that +gentleman whom they were dipping in a vat in the Rue Coquilliere?" + +"Yes, M. le Comte, but I cannot think of his name." + +"I ought to have helped him," said Bussy, "it is a duty one gentleman +owes to another; but, really, Remy, I was too much occupied with +my own affairs." + +"But he must have recognized us, for we were our natural color, +and it seemed to me that he rolled his eyes frightfully, and +shook his fist at us." + +"Are you sure of that, Remy? We must find out who it was; I cannot +let such an insult pass." + +"Oh!" cried Remy, "I know now who he was." + +"How so?" + +"I heard him swear." + +"I should think so; any one would have sworn in such a situation." + +"Yes, but he swore in German." + +"Bah!" + +"Yes, he said, 'Gott verdomme.'" + +"Then it was Schomberg?" + +"Himself, M. le Comte." + +"Then, my dear Remy, get your salves ready." + +"Why so, monsieur?" + +"Because, before long, you will have to apply them either to his +skin or to mine." + +"You would not be so foolish as to get killed, now you are so +well and so happy; St. Marie l'Egyptienne has cured you once, +but she will get tired of working miracles for you." + +"On the contrary, Remy, you cannot tell how pleasant it feels to +risk your life when you are happy. I assure you I never fought +with a good heart when I had lost large sums at play, when things +had gone wrong, or when I had anything to reproach myself with; +but when my purse is full, my heart light, and my conscience +clear, I go boldly to the field, for I am sure of my hand; it +is then I am brilliant. I should fight well to-day, Remy, for, +thanks to you," said he, extending his hand to the young man, +"I am very happy." + +"Stay a moment, however; you will, I hope, deprive yourself of +this pleasure. A beautiful lady of my acquaintance made me swear +to keep you safe and sound, under pretext that your life belongs +to her." + +"Good Remy!" + +"You call me good Remy, because I brought you to see Madame de +Monsoreau, but shall you call me so when you are separated from +her? and unluckily the day approaches, if it be not come." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Do you not know that she is going to Anjou, and that I myself +have the grief of being separated from Gertrude. Ah----" + +Bussy could not help smiling at the pretended grief of the young +man. + +"You love her, then?" he said. + +"I should think so; you should see how she beats me." + +"And you let her do it?" + +"Oh! yes." + +"But to return to Diana, Remy; when shall we set off?" + +"Ah! I expected that. On the latest possible day I should say." + +"Why so?" + +"Firstly, because it seems to me that M. le Duc d'Anjou will want +you here." + +"After?" + +"Because M. de Monsoreau, by a special blessing, does not suspect +you in the least, and would suspect something immediately if he +saw you disappear from Paris at the same time as his wife." + +"What do I care for that?" + +"No; but I care. I charge myself with curing the sword strokes +received in duels, for, as you manage your sword well, you never +receive very serious ones; but not the blows given secretly by +jealous husbands; they are animals, who, in such cases, strike +hard." + +"Well! my dear friend, if it is my destiny to be killed by M. +de Monsoreau." + +"Well!" + +"Well! he will kill me." + +"And then, a week after, Madame de Monsoreau will be reconciled +to her husband, which will dreadfully enrage your poor soul, which +will see it from above or below, without being able to prevent +it." + +"You are right, Remy; I will live." + +"Quite right; but that is not all, you must be charmingly polite +to him; he is frightfully jealous of the Duc d'Anjou, who, while +you were ill in bed, promenaded before the house with his Aurilly. +Make advances, then, to this charming husband, and do not even +ask him what has become of his wife, since you know quite well." + +"You are right, Remy, I believe. Now I am no longer jealous of +the bear, I will be civil to him." + +At this moment some one knocked at the door. + +"Who is there?" cried Bussy. + +"Monsieur," replied a page, "there is a gentleman below who wishes +to speak to you." + +"To speak to me so early; who is it?" + +"A tall gentleman, dressed in green velvet." + +"Can it be Schomberg?" + +"He said a tall man." + +"True, then Monsoreau, perhaps; well, let him enter." After a +minute the visitor entered. + +"M. Chicot!" cried Bussy. + +"Himself, M. le Comte." + +Remy retired into another room, and then Chicot said, "Monsieur, +I come to propose to you a little bargain." + +"Speak, monsieur," said Bussy, in great surprise. + +"What will you promise me if I render you a great service?" + +"That depends on the service, monsieur," replied Bussy, disdainfully. + +Chicot feigned not to remark this air of disdain. "Monsieur," +said he, sitting down and crossing his long legs, "I remark that +you do not ask me to sit down." + +The color mounted to Bussy's face. + +"Monsieur," continued Chicot, "have you heard of the League?" + +"I have heard much of it," said Bussy. + +"Well, monsieur, you ought to know that it is an association +of honest Christians, united for the purpose of religiously +massacring their neighbors, the Huguenots. Are you of the League, +monsieur? I am." + +"But--monsieur----" + +"Say only yes, or no." + +"Allow me to express my astonishment----" + +"I did myself the honor of asking you if you belonged to the League." + +"M. Chicot, as I do not like questions whose import I do not +understand, I beg you to change the conversation before I am +forced to tell you that I do not like questioners. Come, M. Chicot, +we have but a few minutes left." + +"Well! in a few minutes one can say a great deal; however, I +might have dispensed with asking you the question, as if you +do not belong to the League now, you soon will, as M. d'Anjou +does." + +"M. d'Anjou! Who told you that?" + +"Himself, speaking to me in person, as the gentlemen of the law +say, or rather write; for example, that dear M. Nicolas David, +that star of the Forum Parisiense. Now you understand that as +M. d'Anjou belongs to the League, you cannot help belonging to +it also; you, who are his right arm. The League knows better +than to accept a maimed chief." + +"Well, M. Chicot, what then?" + +"Why, if you do belong to it, or they think you are likely to +do so, what has happened to his royal highness will certainly +happen to you." + +"And what has happened to him?" + +"Monsieur," said Chicot, rising and imitating M. de Bussy's manner +of a little before, "I do not love questions, nor questioners, +therefore I have a great mind to let them do to you what they +have done to-night to the duke." + +"M. Chicot," said Bussy, with a smile, "speak, I beg of you; where +is the duke?" + +"He is in prison?" + +"Where?" + +"In his own room. Four of my good friends guard him. M. de Schomberg, +who was dyed blue yesterday, as you know, since you passed during +the operation; M. d'Epernon, who is yellow from the fright he +had; M. de Quelus, who is red with anger; and M. de Maugiron, +who is white with ennui; it is beautiful to see; not to speak +of the duke, who is going green with terror, so that we shall +have a perfect rainbow to delight our eyes." + +"Then, monsieur, you think my liberty in danger?" + +"Danger! monsieur; suppose that they are already on the way to +arrest you." + +Bussy shuddered. + +"Do you like the Bastile, M. de Bussy? it is a good place for +meditation, and M. Laurent Testu, the governor, keeps a good +cook." + +"They would send me to the Bastile?" + +"Ma foi! I ought to have in my pocket something like an order +to conduct you there. Would you like to see it?" and Chicot drew +from his pocket an order from the king in due form, to apprehend, +wherever he might be, M. Louis de Clermont, Seigneur de Bussy. +"Written very nicely by M. Quelus," continued Chicot. + +"Then, monsieur," cried Bussy, "you are really rendering me a +service?" + +"I think so; do you agree with me?" + +"Monsieur, I beg you to tell me why you do it; for you love the +king, and he hates me." + +"M. le Comte, I save you; think what you please of my action. +But do you forget that I asked for a recompense?" + +"Ah, true." + +"Well?" + +"Most willingly, monsieur." + +"Then some day you will do what I ask you?" + +"On my honor, if possible." + +"That is enough. Now mount your horse and disappear; I go to carry +this order to those who are to use it." + +"Then you were not to arrest me yourself?" + +"I! for what do you take me?" + +"But I should abandon my master." + +"Have no scruples; he abandons you." + +"You are a gentleman, M. Chicot." + +Bussy called Remy. To do him justice, he was listening at the +door. + +"Remy, our horses!" + +"They are saddled, monsieur." + +"Ah!" said Chicot, "this young man knows what he is about." + +Bussy thanked Chicot once more, and went down. + +"Where are we going?" said Remy. + +"Well----" said Bussy, hesitating. + +"What do you say to Normandy?" said Chicot. + +"It is too near." + +"Flanders, then?" + +"Too far." + +"Anjou is a reasonable distance, monsieur," said Remy. + +"Well, then, Anjou," said Bussy, coloring. + +"Adieu, monsieur!" said Chicot. + +"It is destiny," said Remy, when he was gone. + +"Let us be quick, and perhaps we may overtake her," said Bussy. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +THE CHESS OF M. CHICOT, AND THE CUP AND BALL OF M. QUELUS. + +Chicot returned joyfully to the Louvre. It was a great satisfaction +to him to have saved a brave gentleman like Bussy. + +M. de Guise, after having received in the morning the principal +Leaguers, who came to bring him the registers filled with signatures, +and after having made them all swear to recognize the chief that +the king should appoint, went out to visit M. d'Anjou, whom he +had lost sight of about ten the evening before. The duke found +the prince's valet rather unquiet at his master's absence, but +he imagined that he had slept at the Louvre. + +The Due de Guise asked to speak to Aurilly, who was most likely +to know where his master was. Aurilly came, but stated he had +been separated from the prince the evening before by a pressure +of the crowd, and had come to the Hotel d'Anjou to wait for him, +not knowing that his highness had intended to sleep at the Louvre. +He added that he had just sent to the Louvre to inquire, and that +a message had been returned that the duke was still asleep. + +"Asleep at eleven o'clock! not likely. You ought to go to the +Louvre, Aurilly." + +"I did think of it, monseigneur, but I feared that this was only +a tale invented to satisfy my messenger, and that the prince was +seeking pleasure elsewhere, and might be annoyed at my seeking +him." + +"Oh, no; the duke has too much sense to be pleasure-seeking on +a day like this. Go to the Louvre; you will be sure to find him +there." + +"I will if you wish it; but what shall I say to him?" + +"Say that the convocation at the Louvre is fixed for two o'clock, +and that it is necessary that we should have a conference first. +It is not at the time when the king is about to choose a chief +for the League that he should be sleeping." + +"Very well, monseigneur, I will beg his highness to come here." + +"And say that I am waiting impatiently for him. +Meanwhile I will go and seek M. de Bussy." + +"But if I do not find his highness, what am I to do?" + +"Then make no further search for him. In any event I shall be +at the Louvre at a quarter before two." + +Aurilly passed through the courtiers who crowded the Louvre, +and made his way to the duke's apartments. At the door he found +Chicot playing chess. Aurilly tried to pass, but Chicot, with +his long legs blocked up the doorway. He was forced to touch +him on the shoulder. + +"Ah, it is you, M. Aurilly." + +"What are you doing, M. Chicot?" + +"Playing chess, as you see." + +"All alone?" + +"Yes, I am studying; do you play?" + +"Very little." + +"Yes, I know you are a musician, and music is so difficult an +art, that those who give themselves to it must sacrifice all +their time." + +"You seem very serious over your game." + +"Yes, it is my king who disquiets me; you must know, M. Aurilly, +that at chess the king is a very insignificant person, who has +no will, who can only go one step forward or back, or one to +the right or left, while he is surrounded by active enemies, by +knights who jump three squares at a time, by a crowd of pawns +who surround him, so that if he be badly counseled he is a ruined +king in no time, ma foi." + +"But, M. Chicot, how does it happen that you are studying this +at the door of his royal highness' room?" + +"Because I am waiting for M. Quelus, who is in there." + +"Where?" + +"With his highness." + +"With his highness! What is he doing there? I did not think they +were such friends." + +"Hush!" then he whispered in Aurilly's ear "he is come to ask +pardon of the duke for a little quarrel they had yesterday." + +"Really!" + +"It was the king who insisted on it; you know on what excellent +terms the brothers are just now. The king would not suffer an +impertinence of Quelus's to pass, and ordered him to apologize." + +"Really!" + +"Ah! M. Aurilly, I think that we are entering the golden age; the +Louvre is about to become Arcadia, and the two brothers Arcades +ambo." + +Aurilly smiled, and passed into the ante-chamber, where he was +courteously saluted by Quelus, between whose hands a superb cup +and ball of ebony inlaid with ivory was making rapid evolutions. + +"Bravo! M. Quelus," said Aurilly. + +"Ah! my dear M. Aurilly, when shall I play cup and ball as well +as you play the lute?" + +"When you have studied your plaything as long as I have my +instrument. But where is monseigneur? I thought you were with +him." + +"I have an audience with him, but Schomberg comes first." + +"What! M. de Schomberg, also!" + +"Oh! mon Dieu; yes. The king settled all that. He is in the +next room. Enter, M. Aurilly, and remind the prince that we are +waiting for him." + +Aurilly opened the second door and saw Schomberg reclining on +a kind of couch, from which he amused himself by sending from a +tube little balls of earth through a gold ring, suspended from +the ceiling by a silk thread, while a favorite dog brought him +back the balls as they fell. + +"Ah! guten morgen, M. Aurilly, you see I am amusing myself while +I wait for my audience." + +"But where is monseigneur?" + +"Oh! he is occupied in pardoning D'Epernon and Maugiron. But will +you not enter, you who are privileged?" + +"Perhaps it would be indiscreet." + +"Not at all; enter, M. Aurilly, enter." And he pushed him into +the next room, where the astonished musician perceived D'Epernon +before a mirror, occupied in stiffening his mustachios, while +Maugiron, seated near the window, was cutting out engravings, by +the side of which the bas-reliefs on the temple of Venus Aphrodite +would have looked holy. + +The duke, without his sword, was in his armchair between these +two men, who only looked at him to watch his movements, and only +spoke to him to say something disagreeable: seeing Aurilly, he +got up to meet him. + +"Take care monseigneur," said Maugiron, "you are stepping on my +figures." + +"Mon Dieu!" cried the musician, "he insults my master!" + +"Dear M. Aurilly," said D'Epernon, still arranging his mustachois, +"how are you?" + +"Be so kind as to bring me here your little dagger," said Maugiron. + +"Gentlemen, gentlemen, do you not remember where you are?" + +"Yes, yes, my dear Orpheus, that is why I ask for your dagger; +you see M. le Duc has none." + +"Aurilly!" cried the duke, in a tone full of grief and rage, "do +you not see that I am a prisoner?" + +"A prisoner! to whom?" + +"To my brother; you might know that by my jailers." + +"Oh! if I had but guessed it." + +"You would have brought your lute to amuse his highness," said +a mocking voice behind them, "but I thought of it, and sent for +it; here it is." + +"How does your chess go on, Chicot?" said D'Epernon. + +"I believe I shall save the king, but it is not without trouble. +Come, M. Aurilly, give me your poniard in return for the lute; +a fair exchange." + +The astonished musician obeyed. + +"There is one rat in the trap," said Quelus, who returned to +his post in the antechamber, only exchanging his cup and ball +for Schomberg's shooting tube. + +"It is amusing to vary one's pleasures," said Chicot; "so for +a change I will go and sign the League." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +THE RECEPTION OF THE CHIEFS OF THE LEAGUE. + +The time for the great reception drew near. Paris, nearly as +tumultuous as the evening before, had sent towards the Louvre +its deputation of leaguers, its bodies of workmen, its sheriffs, +its militia, and its constantly-increasing masses of spectators. + +The king, on his throne in the great hall, was surrounded by his +officers, his friends, his courtiers, and his family, waiting for +all the corporations to defile before him, when M. de Monsoreau +entered abruptly. + +"Look, Henriquet," said Chicot, who was standing near the king. + +"At what?" + +"At your chief huntsman; pardieu, he is well worth it. See how +pale and dirty he is!" + +Henri made a sign to M. de Monsoreau, who approached. + +"How is it that you are at the Louvre, monsieur? I thought you +at Vincennes." + +"Sire, the stag was turned off at seven o'clock this morning, but +when noon came, and I had no news, I feared that some misfortune +had happened to your majesty, and I returned." + +"Really!" + +"Sire, if I have done wrong, attribute it to an excess of devotion." + +"Yes, monsieur, and I appreciate it." + +"Now," said the count, hesitatingly, "if your majesty wishes me +to return to Vincennes, as I am reassured----" + +"No, no, stay; this chase was a fancy which came into our head, +and which went as it came; do not go away, I want near me devoted +subjects, and you have just classed yourself as such." + +Monsoreau bowed, and said, "Where does your majesty wish me to +remain?" + +"Will you give him to me for half an hour?" said Chicot to the +king, in a low voice. + +"What for?" + +"To torment him a little. You owe me some compensation for obliging +me to be present at this tiresome ceremony." + +"Well, take him." + +"Where does your majesty wish me to stand?" again asked M. de +Monsoreau. + +"Where you like; go behind my armchair, that is where I put my +friends." + +"Come here," said Chicot, making room for M. de Monsoreau, "come +and get the scent of these fellows. Here is game which can be +tracked without a hound. Here are the shoemakers who pass, or +rather, who have passed; then here are the tanners. Mort de ma +vie! if you lose their scent, I will take away your place." + +M. de Monsoreau listened mechanically; he seemed preoccupied, +and looked around him anxiously. + +"Do you know what your chief huntsman is hunting for now?" said +Chicot, in an undertone, to the king. + +"No." + +"Your brother." + +"The game is not in sight." + +"Just ask him where his countess is." + +"What for?" + +"Just ask." + +"M. le Comte," said Henri, "what have you done with Madame de +Monsoreau? I do not see her here." + +The count started, but replied, "Sire, she is ill, the air of +Paris did not agree with her; so having obtained leave from the +queen, she set out last night, with her father, for Meridor." + +"Paris is not good for women in her situation," said Chicot. + +Monsoreau grew pale and looked furiously at him. + +"This poor countess!" continued Chicot, "she will die of ennui +by the way." + +"I said that she traveled with her father." + +"A father is very respectable, I allow, but not very amusing; +and if she had only that worthy baron to amuse her it would be +sad; but luckily----" + +"What!" cried the count. + +"What?" + +"What do you mean by 'luckily'?" + +"Ah, it was an ellipsis I used." + +The count shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, but it was. Ask Henri, who is a man of letters." + +"Yes," said the king; "but what did your adverb mean?" + +"What adverb?" + +"'Luckily.'" + +"'Luckily' means luckily. Luckily, then, there exist some of our +friends, and very amusing ones, who, if they meet the countess, +will amuse her, and as they are going the same way, it is probable +they will. Oh, I see them from here; do you not, Henri; you, who +are a man of imagination? There they go, on a good road, well +mounted, and saying sweet things to Madame la Comtesse, which +she likes very much, dear lady." + +M. de Monsoreau was furious, but he could not show it before the +king; so he said as mildly as he could, "What, have you friends +traveling to Anjou?" + +"Good; pretend to be mysterious." + +"I swear to you----" + +"Oh! you know they are there, although I saw you just now seeking +for them mechanically among the crowd." + +"You saw me?" + +"Yes, you, the palest of all chief huntsmen, past, present, and +future, from Nimrod to M. d'Aulefort, your predecessor." + +"M. Chicot!" + +"The palest, I repeat." + +"Monsieur, will you return to the friends of whom you spoke, and +be so good as to name them, if your super-abundant imagination +will let you." + +"Seek, monsieur. Morbleu, it is your occupation to hunt out animals, +witness the unlucky stag whom you deranged this morning, and who +thought it very unkind of you. Seek." + +The eyes of M. de Monsoreau wandered anxiously again. + +"What!" cried he, seeing a vacant place by the king, "not the +Duc d'Anjou?" + +"Taint! Taint! the beast is found." + +"He is gone to-day." + +"He is gone to-day, but it is possible that he set out last night. +When did your brother disappear, Henri?" + +"Last night." + +"The duke gone!" murmured Monsoreau, paler than ever. + +"I do not say he is gone, I say only that he disappeared last +night, and that his best friends do not know where he is," said +the king. + +"Oh!" cried the count, "if I thought so----" + +"Well; what should you do? Besides, what harm if he does talk +nonsense to Madame de Monsoreau? He is the gallant of the family, +you know." + +"I am lost!" murmured the count, trying to go away. But Chicot +detained him. + +"Keep still; mordieu! you shake the king's chair. Mort de ma +vie, your wife will be quite happy with the prince to talk to, +and M. Aurilly to play the lute to her." Monsoreau trembled with +anger. + +"Quietly, monsieur," continued Chicot; "hide your joy, here is +the business beginning; you should not show your feelings so +openly; listen to the discourse of the king." + +M. de Monsoreau was forced to keep quiet. M. de Guise entered +and knelt before the king, not without throwing an uneasy glance +of surprise on the vacant seat of M. d'Anjou. The king rose, +and the heralds commanded silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +HOW THE KING ANNEXED A CHIEF WHO WAS NEITHER THE DUC DE GUISE NOR +M. D'ANJOU. + +"Gentlemen," said the king, after assuring himself that his four +friends, now replaced by ten Swiss, were behind him, "a king +hears equally the voices which come to him from above and from +below, that is to say, what is commanded by God, or asked by +his people. I understand perfectly that there is a guarantee +for my people, in the association of all classes which has been +formed to defend the Catholic faith, and therefore I approve of +the counsels of my cousin De Guise. I declare, then, the Holy +League duly constituted, and as so great a body must have a powerful +head, and as it is necessary that the chief called to sustain +the Church should be one of its most zealous sons, I choose a +Christian prince for the chief, and declare that this chief shall +be"--he made a slight pause--"Henri de Valois, King of France +and Poland." + +The Duc de Guise was thunderstruck. Large drops stood on his +forehead, and he looked from one to the other of his brothers. +All the leaguers uttered a murmur of surprise and discontent. +The cardinal stole up to his brother, and whispered: + +"Francois; I fear we are no longer in safety here. Let us haste +to take leave, for the populace is uncertain, and the king whom +they execrated yesterday, will be their idol for two or three +days." + +During this time the king had signed the act prepared beforehand +by M. de Morvilliers, the only person, with the exception of +the queen mother, who was in the secret, then he passed the pen +to the Duc de Guise, saying: + +"Sign, my cousin; there, below me, now pass it to M. le Cardinal +and M. de Mayenne." + +But these two had already disappeared. The king remarked their +absence, and added, "Then pass the pen to M. de Monsoreau." + +The duke did so, and was about to retire, but the king said, "Wait." + +And while the others signed, he added, "My cousin, it was your +advice, I believe, to guard Paris with a good army, composed of +all the forces of the League. The army is made, and the natural +general of the Parisians is the king." + +"Assuredly, sire." + +"But I do not forget that there is another army to command, and +that this belongs of right to the bravest soldier in my kingdom; +therefore go and command the army." + +"And when am I to set out, sire?" + +"Immediately." + +"Henri, Henri!" whispered Chicot; but, in spite of his signs +and grimaces, the king gave the duke his brevet ready signed. +He took it and retired, and was soon out of Paris. The rest of +the assembly dispersed gradually, crying, "Vive le Roi! and Vive +la Ligue!" + +"Oh, sire!" cried the favorites, approaching the king, "what a +sublime idea you have had!" + +"They think that gold is going to rain on them like manna," said +Chicot, who followed his master about everywhere with lamentations. +As soon as they were left alone, "Ah! M. Chicot!" said Henri, "you +are never content. Diable! I do not ask even for complaisance, +but for good sense." + +"You are right, Henri; it is what you want most." + +"Confess I have done well." + +"That is just what I do not think." + +"Ah! you are jealous, M. Roi de France." + +"I! Heaven forbid. I shall choose better subjects for jealousy." + +"Corbleu." + +"Oh! what self-love." + +"Am I or not king of the League?" + +"Certainly you are; but----" + +"But what?" + +"You are no longer King of France." + +"And who is king then?" + +"Everybody, except you; firstly, your brother----" + +"My brother!" + +"Yes, M. d'Anjou." + +"Whom I hold prisoner." + +"Yes, but prisoner as he is, he was consecrated." + +"By whom was he consecrated?" + +"By the Cardinal de Guise. Really, Henri, you have a fine police. +They consecrate a king at Paris before thirty-three people, in +the church of St. Genevieve, and you do not know of it!" + +"Oh! and you do?" + +"Certainly I do." + +"How can you know what I do not?" + +"Ah! because M. de Morvilliers manages your police, and I am my +own." + +The king frowned. + +"Well, then, without counting Henri de Valois, we have Francois +d'Anjou for king," continued Chicot; "and then there is the Duc +de Guise." + +"The Duc de Guise!" + +"Yes, Henri de Guise, Henri le Balfre." + +"A fine king! whom I exile, whom I send to the army." + +"Good! as if you were not exiled to Poland; and La Charite is +nearer to the Louvre than Cracow is. Ah, yes, you send him to the +army--that is so clever; that is to say, you put thirty thousand +men under his orders, ventre de biche! and a real army, not like +your army of the League; no, no, an army of bourgeois is good +for Henri de Valois, but Henri de Guise must have an army of +soldiers--and what soldiers? hardened warriors, capable of destroying +twenty armies of the League; so that if, being king in fact, +Henri de Guise had the folly one day to wish to be so in name, +he would only have to turn towards the capital, and say, 'Let us +swallow Paris, and Henri de Valois and the Louvre at a mouthful,' +and the rogues would do it. I know them." + +"You forget one thing in your argument, illustrious politician." + +"Ah, diable! it is possible! If you mean a fourth king----" + +"No; you forget that before thinking of reigning in France, when +a Valois is on the throne, it would be necessary to look back +and count your ancestors. That such an idea might come to M. +d'Anjou is possible; his ancestors are mine, and it is only a +question of primogeniture. But M. de Guise!" + +"Ah! that is just where you are in error." + +"How so?" + +"M. de Guise is of a better race than you think." + +"Better than me, perhaps," said Henri, smiling. + +"There is no perhaps in it." + +"You are mad. Learn to read, my friend." + +"Well, Henri, you who can read, read this;" and he drew from +his pocket the genealogy which we know already, handing it to +Henri, who turned pale as he recognized, near to the signature +of the prelate, the seal of St. Peter. + +"What do you say, Henri? Are not your fleur-de-lys thrown a little +in the background?" + +"But how did you get this genealogy?" + +"I! Do I seek these things? It came to seek me." + +"Where?" + +"Under the bolster of a lawyer." + +"And what was his name?" + +"M. Nicolas David." + +"Where was he?" + +"At Lyons." + +"And who took it from under the bolster?" + +"One of my good friends." + +"Who is he?" + +"A monk." + +"His name?" + +"Gorenflot." + +"What! that abominable leaguer, who uttered those incendiary +discourses at St. Genevieve, and again yesterday in the streets +of Paris?" + +"You remember the history of Brutus, who pretended to be a fool?" + +"He is, then, a profound politician? Did he take it from the +advocate?" + +"Yes, by force." + +"Then he is brave?" + +"Brave as Bayard." + +"And having done this, he has not asked for any recompense?" + +"He returned humbly to his convent, and only asks me to forget +that he ever came out." + +"Then he is modest?" + +"As St. Crepin." + +"Chicot, your friend shall be made a prior on the first vacancy." + +"Thanks for him, Henri." + +"Ma foi!" said Chicot to himself, "if he escapes being hung by +Mayenne, he will have an abbey." + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +ETEOCLES AND POLYNICES. + +This day of the League terminated brilliantly and tumultuously, +as it began. The friends of the king rejoiced, the preachers +proposed to canonize Brother Henri, and spoke everywhere of the +great deeds of the Valois. The favorites said, "The lion is roused." +The leaguers said, "The fox has discovered the snare." + +The three Lorraine princes, as we have seen, had left Paris, +and their principal agent, M. de Monsoreau, was ready to start +for Anjou. But as he was leaving the Louvre, Chicot stopped him. + +"Where are you going in such a hurry?" said he. + +"To his highness." + +"His highness?" + +"Yes, I am unquiet about him. We do not live in times when a prince +ought to travel without a good escort." + +"Well, if you are unquiet, so am I." + +"About what?" + +"About his highness also." + +"Why?" + +"Do you not know what they say?" + +"That he has gone to Anjou." + +"No; that he is dead." + +"Bah!" said Monsoreau, with a tone of surprise, not unmixed with +joy, "you told me he was traveling." + +"Diable! they persuaded me so, but now I have good reason to think +that if the poor prince be traveling, it is to another world." + +"What gives you these mournful ideas?" + +"He entered the Louvre yesterday, did he not?" + +"Certainly; I came in with him." + +"Well! he has never been seen to come out." + +"From the Louvre?" + +"No." + +"Where is Aurilly?" + +"Disappeared." + +"But his people?" + +"Disappeared." + +"You are joking, are you not, M. Chicot?" + +"Ask!" + +"Whom?" + +"The king." + +"I cannot question his majesty." + +"Oh! yes, if you go about it in the right way." + +"Well," said the count. "I cannot remain in this uncertainty." +And leaving Chicot, he went to the king's apartment. + +"Where is the king?" he asked: "I have to render an account to +him of the execution of some orders he gave me." + +"With M. le Duc d'Anjou," replied the man. + +"With the Duke; then he is not dead?" + +"I am not so sure of that." + +M. de Monsoreau was thoroughly bewildered; for if M. d'Anjou +were in the Louvre, his absence on such a day was unaccountable. + +Immediately after the sitting, Quelus, Maugiron, Schomberg, and +D'Epernon, in spite of the ennui they experienced there, were +so anxious to be disagreeable to the duke that they returned to +him. He, on his part, was mortally ennuye, as well as anxious, +which, it must be confessed, the conversation of these gentlemen +was not calculated to remove. + +"Do you know, Quelus," said Maugiron, "that it is only now I +begin to appreciate our friend Valois; really he is a great +politician." + +"Explain yourself," said Quelus, who was lounging on a chair. + +"While he was afraid of the conspiracy, he kept it quiet; now +he speaks of it openly, therefore he is no longer afraid of it." + +"Well?" + +"If he no longer fears it, he will punish it; you know Valois, +he has certainly many good qualities, but clemency is not one +of them." + +"Granted." + +"Then if he punishes these conspirators there will be a trial, +and we shall have a fine spectacle." + +"Unless, which is possible, on account of the rank of the accused, +they arrange it all quietly." + +"That would be my advice, certainly; it is better in family affairs." + +Aurilly glanced at the prince. + +"Ma foi," said Maugiron, "I know one thing; that in the king's +place I would not spare the high heads, which are always the +most guilty. I would make an example of one or two--one, at all +events." + +"I think it would be well to revive the famous invention of sacks." + +"What was that?" + +"A royal fancy in the year 1550; they shut up a man in a sack, in +company with three or four cats, and threw them into the water. +The minute the cats felt the water they attacked the man, and +there passed in the sack things which unluckily could never be +seen." + +"Really, Quelus, you are a well of science, and your conversation +is most interesting." + +"They could not apply this invention to the chiefs; they have the +right to be beheaded; but to the small fry, I mean the favorites, +squires, and lute-players." + +"Gentlemen----" stammered Aurilly. + +"Do not reply to them, Aurilly," said Francois, "it cannot be +addressed to me." As he spoke the king appeared on the threshold. +The duke rose. "Sire," cried he, "I appeal against the unworthy +treatment I meet with from your followers." + +Henri did not seem to hear. "Good morning, Quelus," said he kissing +his favorite on both cheeks; "good morning, the sight of you +rejoices my soul, and you, my poor Maugiron, how are you?" + +"I am terribly ennuye, sire; when I undertook to guard your brother, +I thought he was more amusing. Oh! the tiresome prince; are you +sure he is the son of your father and mother?" + +"Sire! you hear," cried the prince, "is it your wish that your +brother should be insulted?" + +"Silence, monsieur," said Henri, "I do not like my prisoners to +complain." + +"Prisoner, or not, I am your----" + +"The title which you are about to invoke," interrupted the king, +"is fatal to you. My brother guilty, is doubly guilty." + +"But if he is not?" + +"He is." + +"Of what crime?" + +"Of having displeased me." + +"Sire, have our family quarrels need of witnesses?" + +"You are right, monsieur. My friends, let me speak a little to +my brother." + +"I will take Aurilly," said Maugiron. + +"Now we are alone, monsieur," said the king, when they were gone. + +"I waited for this moment impatiently." + +"And I also; ah, you want my crown, my worthy Eteocles; you made of +the League a means, and of the throne an aim, and were consecrated +in a corner of Paris, to be able to proclaim yourself to the +Parisians shining with holy oil." + +"Alas! your majesty will not let me speak." + +"What for?--to lie, or to tell me things which I know already? +But no, you would lie; for to confess what you have done, would +be to confess that you merit death. You would lie, and I would +spare you that shame." + +"My brother, is it your intention to overwhelm me with outrages?" + +"If what I say is an outrage, it is I who lie, and I ask no better. +Speak then, I listen; tell me you are not disloyal, and at the +same time unskilful." + +"I do not know what your majesty means; you speak enigmas." + +"Then I will explain my words; you have conspired against me, +as formerly you conspired against my brother Charles, only then +it was by the aid of Henri of Navarre, and now it is with the +assistance of the Duc de Guise. It is true that formerly you +crawled like a serpent; now you wish to spring like the lion; +after perfidy, open force; after poison, the sword." + +"Poison! what do you mean?" cried Francois, with flashing eyes. + +"The poison with which you assassinated our brother Charles, +which you destined for Henry of Navarre, your associate. That +fatal poison is known; our mother has used it so often, which +is doubtless the reason why you renounced it on this occasion, +and preferred rather the part of captain of the League. But look +me in the face, Francois, and learn that a man like you shall +never kill me. A sword! Ah! I should like to see you here in +this room alone with me, holding a sword. I have conquered you +in cunning, and in a combat you would be killed. Dream no longer +of struggling against me in any manner, for from this moment I +act as king--as master--as despot; I shall watch you everywhere, +follow you everywhere, and, at the least suspicion, I will throw +you to the axe of my executioner. This is what I had to say to +you in private, and I will order you to be left alone to-night +to ponder over my words." + +"Then, sire, for a suspicion, I have fallen into disgrace with +you?" + +"Say, under my justice." + +"But, at least, sire, fix a term to my captivity, that I may know +what to expect?" + +"You will know when you hear your sentence read." + +"Can I not see my mother?" + +"What for? There were but three copies in the world of the famous +hunting-book which killed my poor brother, and of the two others, +one is in London and the other at Florence. Besides, I am not +a Nimrod, like my poor brother; adieu, Francois." + +"Gentlemen," said the king, opening the door, "the Duc d'Anjou +has requested to be alone to-night to reflect on an answer he +has to make to me to-morrow morning. Leave him then alone, except +occasional visits of precaution. If he be troublesome, call me; +I have the Bastile ready, and the governor, M. Laurent Testu, +is the best man in the world to conquer ill tempers." + +"Sire," cried Francois, trying a last effort, "remember I am +your----" + +"You were also the brother of Charles IX., I think." + +"At least restore me to my friends." + +"I deprive myself of mine to give them to you." And Henri shut +the door, while the duke fell in despair into his armchair. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +HOW PEOPLE DO NOT ALWAYS LOSE THEIR TIME BY SEARCHING EMPTY DRAWERS. + +The scene which the duke had just had with the king made him +regard his position as desperate. The minions had not allowed him +to be ignorant of what had passed, and he had heard the people +cry, "Vive le roi!" He felt himself abandoned by the other chiefs, +who had themselves to save. In his quarrels with his brother +Charles he had always had for confidants, or rather dupes, those +two devoted men, Coconnas and La Mole, and, for the first time +in his life, feeling himself alone and isolated, he felt a kind +of remorse at having sacrificed them. During that time his sister +Marguerite loved and consoled him. How had he recompensed her? + +He had recently had near him a brave and valiant heart and +sword--Bussy, the brave Bussy. And he had offended him to please +Monsoreau, who had his secret, with which he always threatened him, +and which was now known to the king. He had therefore quarreled +with Bussy gratuitously, and, above all, uselessly, which as a +great politician once said, "was more than a crime, it was a +mistake!" How he would have rejoiced in his present situation, +to know that Bussy was watching over him; Bussy the loyal, Bussy +the universal favorite. It would have been probable liberty and +certain vengeance. + +But as we have said, Bussy, wounded to the heart, kept away from +the prince, so the prisoner remained fifty feet above the ground, +with the four favorites in the corridor, without counting the +court full of Swiss. Besides this, one or other of the young men +entered from time to time, and, without seeming even to notice +the prince, went round the room, examined the doors and windows, +looked under the beds and tables, and glanced at the curtains +and sheets. + +"Ma foi!" said Maugiron, after one of these visits, "I have done; +I am not going to look after him any more to-night." + +"Yes," said D'Epernon, "as long as we guard him, there is no need +of going to look at him." + +"And he is not handsome to look at," said Quelus. + +"Still," said Schomberg, "I think we had better not relax our +vigilance, for the devil is cunning." + +"Yes, but not cunning enough to pass over the bodies of four men +like us." + +"That is true," said Quelus. + +"Oh!" said Schomberg, "do you think, if he wants to fly, he will +choose our corridor to come through? He would make a hole in +the wall." + +"With what?" + +"Then he has the windows." + +"Ah! the windows, bravo, Schomberg; would you jump forty-five +feet?" + +"I confess that forty-five feet----" + +"Yes, and he who is lame, and heavy, and timid as----" + +"You," said Schomberg. + +"You know I fear nothing but phantoms--that is an affair of the +nerves." + +"The last phantom was," said Quelus, "that all those whom he had +killed in duels appeared to him one night." + +"However," said Maugiron, "I have read of wonderful escapes; with +sheets, for instance." + +"Ah! that is more sensible. I saw myself, at Bordeaux, a prisoner +who escaped by the aid of his sheets." + +"You see, then?" + +"Yes, but he had his leg broken, and his neck, too; his sheets +were thirty feet too short, and he had to jump, so that while +his body escaped from prison, his soul escaped from his body." + +"Besides," said Quelus, "if he escapes, we will follow him, and +in catching him some mischief might happen to him." + +So they dismissed the subject. They were perfectly right that +the duke was not likely to attempt a perilous escape. From time +to time his pale face was at the window which overlooked the +fosses of the Louvre, beyond which was an open space about fifteen +feet broad, and then the Seine rolled calm as a mirror. On the +other side rose, like a giant, the tower of Nesle. + +He had watched the sunset and the gradual extinction of all the +lights. He had contemplated the beautiful spectacle of old Paris, +with its roofs gilded by the last rays of the sun, and silvered +by the first beams of the moon; then little by little he was +seized with a great terror at seeing immense clouds roll over +the sky and announce a storm. Among his other weaknesses, the Duc +d'Anjou was afraid of thunder, and he would have given anything +to have had his guardians with him again, even if they insulted +him. He threw himself on his bed, but found it impossible to +sleep. Then he began to swear, and break everything near him. +It was a family failing, and they were accustomed to it at the +Louvre. The young men had opened the door to see what the noise +meant, and seeing that it was the duke amusing himself, they had +shut it again, which redoubled his anger. He had just broken +a chair, when a crashing of glass was heard at the window, and +he felt a sharp blow on his thigh. His first idea was that he +was wounded by some emissary of the king's. + +"Ah! I am dead!" he cried, and fell on the carpet. But as he +fell his hand came in contact with a larger and rougher substance +than a ball. + +"Oh! a stone," thought he, and feeling his leg, he found it +uninjured. He picked up the stone and looked at it, and saw that +it was wrapped in a piece of paper. Then the duke's ideas began +to change. Might not this stone come from a friend as well as +an enemy. He approached the light, cut the silk which tied the +paper round the stone and read,-- + + +"Are you tired of keeping your room? Do you love open air and +liberty? Enter the little room where the Queen of Navarre hid +your poor friend, M. de la Mole, open the cupboard, and, by +displacing the lowest bracket, you will find a double bottom; in +this there is a silk ladder; attach it yourself to the balcony, +two vigorous arms will hold it at the bottom. A horse, swift as +thought, will lead you to a safe place. + +"A FRIEND." + + +"A friend!" cried the prince; "oh! I did not know I had a friend. +Who is this friend who thinks of me?" And the duke ran to the +window, but could see no one. + +"Can it be a snare?" thought he; "but first let me see if there +is a double bottom and a ladder." + +The duke then, leaving the light where it was for precaution, +groped his way to the cabinet, which he knew so well. He opened +it, felt for the bottom shelf, and, to his great joy, found what +he looked for. As a thief escapes with his booty, the duke rushed +into the next room with his prey. Ten o'clock struck; the duke +thought of his hourly visitors, and hid his ladder under a cushion, +on which he sat down. Indeed, five minutes had not passed before +Maugiron appeared in a dressing-gown, with a sword in one hand +and a light in the other. As he came in one of his friends said +to him, "The bear is furious, he was breaking everything just +now; take care he does not devour you, Maugiron." + +Maugiron made his usual examination; he saw a broken window, but +thought the duke had done it in his rage. + +"Maugiron!" cried Schomberg, from outside, "are you already eaten +that you do not speak? In that case, sigh, at least, that we +may know and avenge you." + +The duke trembled with impatience. + +"No, no," said Maugiron, "on the contrary, my bear is quite +conquered." + +And so saying he went out and locked the door. When the key had +ceased to turn in the lock the duke murmured,-- + +"Take care, gentlemen, or the duke will be too much for you." + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +VENTRE ST. GRIS. + +Left alone, the duke, knowing he had at least an hour before +him, drew out his ladder and carefully examined the fastenings. + +"The ladder is good," said he, at length, "and will not break." + +Then he unrolled it all, and counted thirty-eight rounds of fifteen +inches each. + +"The length is sufficient," said he, "there is nothing to fear +on that point. Ah! but if it were some of those cursed minions +who sent me to the ladder? If I attach it to the balcony they +will let me do it, and while I am descending they will cut the +cords. But, no; they could not be foolish enough to think I would +fly without barricading the door, and I should have time to fly +before they could force it. But what person in the world, except my +sister herself, could know of a ladder hidden in her dressing-room? +What friend of mine can it be?" + +Suddenly an idea struck him, and he cried, "Bussy!" + +Indeed, Bussy, whom so many ladies adored, Bussy was a hero to +the Queen of Navarre, and his only true friend--was it Bussy? +Everything made him think so. The duke, of course, did not know +all his motives for being angry with him, for he did not know +his love for Diana, and believed him to be too noble to think of +resentment when his master was a prisoner. He approached the window +again, and fancied he could see in the fog the indistinct forms +of three horses and two men by the river. Two men. These must be +Bussy and Remy. He then looked through the keyhole, and saw his +four guardians; two were asleep, and two had inherited Chicot's +chessboard and were playing. He extinguished his light. + +Then he opened his window, and looked over the balcony; the gulf +below him looked dreadful in the darkness, and he drew back. But +air and liberty have an attraction so irresistible to a prisoner, +that Francois, on withdrawing from the window, felt as if he +were being stifled, and for an instant something like disgust +of life and indifference to death passed through his mind. He +fancied he was growing courageous, and, profiting by this moment +of excitement, he seized the ladder, fixed it to the balcony, +then barricaded the door as well as he could, and returned to +the window. The darkness was now great, and the first growlings +of the storm began to make themselves heard; a great cloud with +silver fringes extended itself like a recumbent elephant from one +side to the other of the river. A flash of lightning broke the +immense cloud for a moment, and the prince fancied that he saw +below him in the fosse the same figures he had imagined before. A +horse neighed; there was no more doubt--he was waited for. + +He shook the ladder to see if it was firm, then he put his leg +over the balustrade and placed his foot on the first step. Nothing +can describe the anguish of the prisoner at this moment, placed +between a frail silk cord on the one hand and his brother's cruel +menaces on the other. But as he stood there he felt the ladder +stiffened; some one held it. Was it a friend or an enemy? Were +they open arms or armed ones which waited for him? An irresistible +terror seized him; he still held the balcony with his left hand, +and made a movement to remount, when a very slight pull at the +ladder came to him like a solicitation. He took courage, and +tried the second step. The ladder was held as firm as a rock, +and he found a steady support for his foot. He descended rapidly, +almost gliding down, when all at once, instead of touching the +earth, which he knew to be near, he felt himself seized in the +arms of a man who whispered, "You are saved." Then he was carried +along the fosse till they came to the end, when another man seized +him by the collar and drew him up, and after having aided his +companion in the same way, they ran to the river, where stood +the horses. The prince knew he was at, the mercy of his saviours, +so he jumped at once on a horse, and his companions did the same. +The same voice now said, "Quick!" And they set off at a gallop. + +"All goes well at present," thought the prince, "let us hope it +will end so. Thanks, my brave Bussy," said he to his companion +on the right, who was entirely covered with a large cloak. + +"Quick!" replied the other. + +They arrived thus at the great ditch of the Bastile, which they +crossed on a bridge improvised by the Leaguers the night before. +The three cavaliers rode towards Charenton, when all at once +the man on the right entered the forest of Vincennes, saying +only, "Come." The prince's horse neighed, and several others +answered from the depths of the forest. Francois would have stopped +if he could, for he feared they were taking him to an ambush, +but it was too late, and in a few minutes he found himself in +a small open space, where eight or ten men on horseback were +drawn up. + +"Oh! oh!" said the prince, "what does this mean, monsieur?" + +"Ventre St. Gris! it means that we are saved." + +"You! Henri!" cried the duke, stupefied, "you! my liberator?" + +"Does that astonish you? Are we not related, Agrippa?" continued +he, looking round for his companion. + +"Here I am," said D'Aubigne. + +"Are there two fresh horses, with which we can go a dozen leagues +without stopping?" + +"But where are you taking me, my cousin?" + +"Where you like, only be quick, for the King of France has more +horses than I have, and is rich enough to kill a dozen if he +wishes to catch us." + +"Really, then, I am free to go where I like?" + +"Certainly, I wait your orders." + +"Well, then, to Angers." + +"To Angers; so be it, there you are at home." + +"But you?" + +"I! when we are in sight of Angers I shall leave you, and ride +on to Navarre, where my good Margot expects me, and must be much +ennuyee at my absence." + +"But no one knew you were here?" + +"I came to sell three diamonds of my wife's." + +"Ah! very well." + +"And also to know if this League was really going to ruin me." + +"You see there is nothing in it." + +"Thanks to you, no." + +"How! thanks to me?" + +"Certainly. If, instead of refusing to be chief of the League, +when you knew it was directed against me, you had accepted, I +was ruined. Therefore, when I heard that the king had punished +your refusal with imprisonment, I swore to release you, and I +have done so." + +"Always so simple-minded," thought Francois, "really, it is easy +to deceive him." + +"Now for Anjou," thought the king. "Ah! M. de Guise, I send you +a companion you do not want." + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +THE FRIENDS. + +While Paris was in this ferment, Madame de Monsoreau, escorted +by her father and two servants, pursued their way to Meridor. She +began to enjoy her liberty, precious to those who have suffered. +The azure of the sky, compared to that which hung always menacingly +over the black towers of the Bastile, the trees already green, +all appeared to her fresh and young, beautiful and new, as if +she had really come out of the tomb where her father had believed +her. He, the old baron, had grown young again. We will not attempt +to describe their long journey, free from incidents. Several +times the baron said to Diana,-- + +"Do not fear, my daughter." + +"Fear what?" + +"Were you not looking if M. de Monsoreau was following us?" + +"Yes, it was true, I did look," replied she, with a sigh and another +glance behind. + +At last, on the eighth day, they reached the chateau of Meridor, +and were received by Madame de St. Luc and her husband. Then +began for these four people one of those existences of which +every man has dreamed in reading Virgil or Theocritus. The baron +and St. Luc hunted from morning till evening; you might have +seen troops of dogs rushing from the hills in pursuit of some +hare or fox, and startling Diana and Jeanne, as they sat side +by side on the moss, under the shade of the trees. + +"Recount to me," said Jeanne, "all that happened to you in the +tomb, for you were dead to us. See, the hawthorn is shedding +on us its last flowers, and the elders send out their perfume. +Not a breath in the air, not a human being near us; recount, +little sister." + +"What can I say?" + +"Tell me, are you happy? That beautiful eye often swimming in +tears, the paleness of your cheeks, that mouth which tries a +smile which it never finishes--Diana, you must have many things +to tell me." + +"No, nothing." + +"You are, then, happy with M. de Monsoreau?" + +Diana shuddered. + +"You see!" said Jeanne. + +"With M. de Monsoreau! Why did you pronounce that name? why do +you evoke that phantom in the midst of our woods, our flowers, +our happiness?" + +"You told me, I think," said Jeanne, "that M. de Bussy showed +much interest in you." + +Diana reddened, even to her round pretty ears. + +"He is a charming creature," continued Jeanne, kissing Diana. + +"It is folly," said Diana; "M. de Bussy thinks no more of Diana +de Meridor." + +"That is possible; but I believe he pleases Diana de Monsoreau +a little." + +"Do not say that." + +"Does it displease you?" + +"I tell you he thinks no more of me; and he does well--oh, I was +cowardly." + +"What do you say?" + +"Nothing, nothing." + +"Now, Diana, do not cry, do not accuse yourself. You cowardly! +you, my heroine! you were constrained." + +"I believed it; I saw dangers, gulfs under my feet. Now, Jeanne, +these dangers seem to me chimerical, these gulfs as if a child +could cross them. I was cowardly, I tell you; oh, I had no time +to reflect." + +"You speak in enigmas." + +"No," cried Diana, rising, "it was not my fault, it was his. +The Duc d'Anjou was against him; but when one wishes a thing, +when one loves, neither prince nor master should keep you back. +See, Jeanne, if I loved----" + +"Be calm, dear friend." + +"I tell you, _we_ were cowardly." + +"'We!' of whom do you speak? That 'we' is eloquent, my dearest +Diana." + +"I mean my father and I; you did not think anything else, did +you? My father is a nobleman--he might have spoken to the king; +I am proud, and do not fear a man when I hate him. But _he_ +did not love me." + +"You lie to yourself! you know the contrary, little hypocrite!" + +"You may believe in love, Jeanne, you, whom M. de St. Luc married +in spite of the king; you, whom he carried away from Paris; you, +who pay him by your caresses for proscription and exile." + +"And he thinks himself richly repaid." + +"But I--reflect a little, do not be egotistical--I, whom that +fiery young man pretended to love--I, who fixed the regards of +that invincible Bussy, he who fears no one--I was alone with him +in the cloister of l'Egyptienne--we were alone; but for Gertrude +and Remy, our accomplices, he could have carried me off. At that +moment I saw him suffering because of me; I saw his eyes languishing, +his lips pale and parched with fever. If he had asked me to die +to restore the brightness to his eyes, and the freshness to his +lips, I should have died. Well, I went away, and he never tried +to detain me. Wait still. He knew that I was leaving Paris, that +I was returning to Meridor; he knew that M. de Monsoreau--I blush +as I tell it--was only my husband in name; he knew that I traveled +alone; and along the road, dear Jeanne, I kept turning, thinking +I heard the gallop of his horse behind us. But no, it was only +the echo of my own. I tell you he does not think of me. I am +not worth a journey to Anjou while there are so many beautiful +women at the court of France, whose smiles are worth a hundred +confessions from the provincial, buried at Meridor. Do you understand +now? Am I forgotten, despised----" + +She had not finished when the foliage of the oak rustled, a quantity +of mortar and moss fell from the old wall, and a man threw himself +at the feet of Diana, who uttered an affrighted cry. + +Jeanne ran away--she recognized him. + +"Here I am!" cried Bussy, kissing the dress of Diana. + +She too recognized him, and, overcome by this unexpected happiness, +fell unconscious into the arms of him whom she had just accused +of indifference. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +BUSSY AND DIANA. + +Faintings from love seldom last any length of time, nor are they +very dangerous. Diana was not long in opening her eyes, and finding +herself supported by Bussy. + +"Oh!" murmured she, "it was shocking, count, to surprise us thus." + +Bussy expected other words, men are so exacting, but Diana said +no more, and, disengaging herself gently from his arms, ran to +her friend, who, seeing her faint, had returned softly, and stood +a little way off. + +"Is it thus that you receive me, madame?" + +"No, M. de Bussy, but----" + +"Oh! no 'but,' madame," sighed Bussy, drawing near again. + +"No, no, not on your knees!" + +"Oh! let me pray to you an instant, thus!" cried the count. "I +have so longed for this place." + +"Yes, but to come to it, you jumped over the wall. Not only is it +not suitable for a man of your rank, but it is very imprudent." + +"How so?" + +"If you had been seen?" + +"Who could have seen me?" + +"Our hunters, who, a quarter of an hour ago, passed by this wall." + +"Do not be uneasy, madame, I hide myself too carefully to be seen." + +"Hidden! really!" said Jeanne, "tell us how, M. de Bussy." + +"Firstly, if I did not join you on the road, it was not my fault, +I took one route and you another. You came by Rambouillet, and I +by Chartres. And then judge if your poor Bussy be not in love; +I did not dare to join you. It was not in the presence of your +father and your servants that I wished to meet you again, for I +did not desire to compromise you, so I made the journey stage by +stage, devoured by impatience. At last you arrived. I had taken +a lodging in the village, and, concealed behind the window, I +saw you pass." + +"Oh! mon Dieu! are you then at Angers under your own name?" + +"For what do you take me? I am a traveling merchant; look at my +costume, it is of a color much worn among drapers and goldsmiths. +I have not been remarked." + +"Bussy, the handsome Bussy, two days in a provincial town and +not remarked; who would believe that at court?" said Jeanne. + +"Continue, count," said Diana, blushing; "how do you come here +from the town?" + +"I have two horses of a chosen race; I leave the village on one, +stopping to look at all the signs and writings, but when out of +sight my horse takes to a gallop, which brings him the four miles +in half an hour. Once in the wood of Meridor I ride to the park wall, +but it is very long, for the park is large. Yesterday I explored +this wall for more than four hours, climbing up here and there, +hoping to see you. At last, when I was almost in despair, I saw +you in the evening returning to the house; the two great dogs of +the baron were jumping round you. When you had disappeared, I jumped +over, and saw the marks on the grass where you had been sitting. +I fancied you might have adopted this place, which is charming, +during the heat of the sun, so I broke away some branches that I +might know it again, and sighing, which hurts me dreadfully----" + +"From want of habit," said Jeanne. + +"I do not say no, madame; well, then, sighing, I retook my way +to the town. I was very tired, I had torn my dress in climbing +trees, but I had seen you, and I was happy." + +"It is an admirable recital," said Jeanne, "and you have surmounted +dreadful obstacles; it is quite heroic; but in your place I would +have preserved my doublet, and above all, have taken care of +my white hands. Look at yours, how frightful they are with +scratches." + +"Yes, but then I should not have seen her whom I came to see." + +"On the contrary, I should have seen her better than you did." + +"What would you have done then?" + +"I would have gone straight to the Chateau de Meridor. M. le +Baron would have pressed me in his arms, Madame de Monsoreau +would have placed me by her at table, M. de St. Luc would have +been delighted to see me, and his wife also. It was the simplest +thing in the world, but lovers never think of what is straight +before them." + +Bussy smiled at Diana. "Oh, no," he said, "that would not have +done for me." + +"Then I no longer understand what good manners are." + +"No," said Bussy, "I could not go to the castle; M. le Baron would +watch his daughter." + +"Good!" said Jeanne, "here is a lesson for me," and kissing Diana +on the forehead, she ran away. Diana tried to stop her, but Bussy +seized her hands, and she let her friend go. They remained alone. + +"Have I not done well, madame," said Bussy, "and do you not approve?" + +"I do not desire to feign," said Diana, "besides, it would be +useless; you know I approve; but here must stop my indulgence; +in calling for you as I did just now I was mad--I was guilty." + +"Mon Dieu! What do you say?" + +"Alas I count, the truth; I have a right to make M. de Monsoreau +unhappy, to withhold from him my smiles and my love, but I have +no right to bestow them on another: for, after all, he is my +master." + +"Now, you will let me speak, will you not?" + +"Speak!" + +"Well! of all that you have just said, you do not find one word +in your heart." + +"How!" + +"Listen patiently; you have overwhelmed me with sophisms. The +commonplaces of morality do not apply here; this man is your +master, you say, but did you choose him? No; fate imposed him +on you, and you submitted. Now, do you mean to suffer all your +life the consequences, of this odious constraint? I will deliver +you from it." + +Diana tried to speak, but Bussy stopped her. + +"Oh! I know what you are going to say; that if I provoke M. de +Monsoreau and kill him, you will see me no more. So be it; I +may die of grief, but you will live free and happy, and you may +render happy some gallant man, who in his joy will sometimes bless +my name, and cry, 'Thanks, Bussy, thanks, for having delivered +us from that dreadful Monsoreau;' and you, yourself, Diana, who +will not dare to thank me while living, will thank me dead." + +Diana seized his hand. + +"You have not yet implored me, Bussy; you begin with menaces." + +"Menace you! oh! could I have such an intention, I, who love +you so ardently, Diana. I know you love me; do not deny it, I +know it, for you have avowed it. Here, on my knees before you, +my hand on my heart, which has never lied, either from interest +or from fear, I say to you, Diana, I love you, for my whole life. +Diana, I swear to you, that if I die for you, it will be in adoring +you. If you still say to me, 'go,' I will go without a sigh, or +complaint, from this place where I am so happy, and I should +say, 'this woman does not love me, and never will love me.' Then +I should go away, and you would see me no more, but as my devotion +for you is great, my desire to see you happy would survive the +certainty that I could never be happy myself." + +Bussy said this with so much emotion, and, at the same time firmness, +that Diana felt sure that he would do all he said, and she cried,-- + +"Thanks, count, for you take from me all remorse by your threats." + +Saying these words, she gave him her hand, which he kissed +passionately. Then they heard the light steps of Jeanne, accompanied +by a warning cough. Instinctively the clasped hands parted. Jeanne +saw it. + +"Pardon, my good friends, for disturbing you," said she, "but +we must go in if we do not wish to be sent for. M. le Comte, +regain, if you please, your excellent horse, and let us go to +the house. See what you lose by your obstinacy, M. de Bussy, +a dinner at the chateau, which is not to be despised by a man +who has had a long ride, and has been climbing trees, without +counting all the amusement we could have had, or the glances +that might have passed. Come, Diana, come away." + +Bussy looked at the two friends with a smile. Diana held out her +hand to him. + +"Is that all?" said he; "have you nothing to say?" + +"Till to-morrow," replied she. + +"Only to-morrow." + +"To-morrow, and always." + +Bussy uttered a joyful exclamation, pressed his lips to her hand, +and ran off. Diana watched him till he was out of sight. + +"Now!" said Jeanne, when he had disappeared, "will you talk to +me a little?" + +"Oh! yes." + +"Well! to-morrow I shall go to the chase with St. Luc and your +father." + +"What, you will leave me alone at the chateau!" + +"Listen, dear friend; I also have my principles, and there are +certain things that I cannot consent to do." + +"Oh, Jeanne!" cried Diana, growing pale, "can you say such things +to me?" + +"Yes, I cannot continue thus." + +"I thought you loved me, Jeanne. What cannot you continue?" + +"Continue to prevent two poor lovers from talking to each other +at their ease." Diana seized in her arms the laughing young woman. + +"Listen!" said Jeanne, "there are the hunters calling us, and +poor St. Luc is impatient." + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +HOW BUSSY WAS OFFERED THREE HUNDRED PISTOLES FOR HIS HORSE, AND +PARTED WITH HIM FOR NOTHING. + +The next day, Bussy left Angers before the most wakeful bourgeois +had had their breakfast. He flew along the road, and Diana, mounted +on a terrace in front of the castle, saw him coming, and went +to meet him. The sun had scarcely risen over the great oaks, +and the grass was still wet with dew, when she heard from afar, +as she went along, the horn of St. Luc, which Jeanne incited +him to sound. She arrived at the meeting-place just as Bussy +appeared on the wall. The day passed like an hour. What had they +to say? That they loved each other. What had they to wish for? +They were together. + +"Diana," said Bussy at length, "it seems to me as though my life +had begun only to-day. You have shown me what it is to live." + +"And I," replied she, "who not long ago would have willingly +thrown myself into the arms of death, would now tremble to die +and lose your love. But why do you not come to the castle? My +father would be glad to see you, and M. de St. Luc is your friend." + +"Alas, Diana, if I came once, I should be always there; all the +province would know it, and if it came to the ears of that ogre, +your husband, he would hasten here. You forbid me to deliver +you from him----" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"Well, then, for the safety of our happiness, we must guard our +secret. Madame de St. Luc knows it, and her husband soon will. I +have written him a line this morning, asking him for an interview +at Angers, and when he comes I will make him promise never to +breathe a word of this. It is the more important, dear Diana, +as doubtless they are seeking me everywhere. Things looked grave +when I left Paris. + +"You are right; and then my father is so scrupulous that, in +spite of his love for me, he is capable of denouncing me to M. +de Monsoreau." + +"Let us hide ourselves well, then; I fear some evil spirit, jealous +of our happiness." + +"Say adieu to me, then; and do not ride so fast--your horse frightens +me." + +"Fear nothing; he knows the way, and is the gentlest and safest +horse I ever rode. When I return to the city, buried in sweet +thoughts, he takes the way without my touching the bridle." + +At last the sound of the returning chase was heard, the horns +playing an air agreed upon with Jeanne, and Bussy left. As he +approached the city, he remarked that the time was approaching +when the gates of the city would be closed. He was preparing to +ride on quickly, when he heard behind him the gallop of horses. +For a lover who wishes to remain concealed, as for a robber, +everything seems a menace. Bussy asked himself whether he should +ride on or draw up and let them pass, but their course was so +rapid that they were up to him in a moment. There were two. + +"Here is the city," said one, with a Gascon accent; "three hundred +more blows with the whip, and one hundred with the spur; courage +and vigor!" + +"The beast has no more breath--he shivers and totters; he will +not go on; and yet I would give a hundred horses to be in my +city before nightfall." + +"It is some Angers man out late," thought Bussy. "But look, the +horse is falling; take care, monsieur," cried he; "quit your +horse--he is about to fall." + +Indeed, as he spoke the animal fell heavily on his side, shook +his legs convulsively, then suddenly his breath stopped, his +eyes grew dim, and he was dead. + +"Monsieur!" cried the cavalier to Bussy, "three hundred pistoles +for your horse!" + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" cried Bussy, drawing near. + +"Do you hear me, monsieur? I am in haste." + +"Ah! my prince, take it for nothing," cried Bussy, who had recognized +the Duc d'Anjou. + +At the same moment they heard the click of a pistol, which was +cocked by the duke's companion. + +"Stop, M. d'Aubigne," cried the duke, "it is Bussy, I believe." + +"Oh! yes, my prince, it is I. But what, in Heaven's name are you +doing, killing horses on the road at this hour?" + +"Ah! is it M. de Bussy?" said D'Aubigne, "then you do not want +me any more. Permit me to return to him who sent me?" + +"Not without receiving my sincere thanks and the promise of a +lasting friendship." + +"I accept it, monseigneur, and will recall your words to you some +day." + +"M. D'Aubigne! I am in the clouds," murmured Bussy. + +"Did you not know? As you are here, did you not expect me?" said +the prince, with an air of suspicion which did not escape Bussy, +who began to reflect that his secret residence in Anjou might +seem very strange to the prince. + +"I did better than expect you," said Bussy, "and as you wish to +enter the town before the gates are closed, jump into the saddle, +monseigneur." + +The prince accepted, and Bussy mounted behind him, asking himself +if this prince, dressed in black, were not the evil spirit sent +already to disturb his happiness. + +"Where do we go now, monseigneur?" said he, as they entered the +city. + +"To the castle. Let them hoist my banner and convoke the nobility +of the district." + +"Nothing more easy," said Bussy, full of surprise, but willing +to be docile. The news was soon spread through the city that +the duke had arrived, and a crowd soon collected. + +"Gentlemen!" cried the duke, "I have come to throw myself into my +good city of Angers. At Paris the most terrible dangers have menaced +my life--I had lost even my liberty. I succeeded in escaping, thanks +to some good friends, and now I am here I feel my tranquillity +and my life assured." + +The people cried, "Long live our seigneur." + +"Now let me sup," said the prince, "I have had nothing since the +morning." + +The city was illuminated, guns were fired, the bells of the cathedral +were rung, and the wind carried to Meridor the noisy joy of the +good Angevins. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +THE DIPLOMACY OF THE DUC D'ANJOU. + +When the duke and Bussy were left alone, the duke said, "Let us +talk." + +Francois, who was very quick, had perceived that Bussy had made +more advances to him than usual, therefore he judged that he was +in some embarrassing situation, and that he might, by a little +address, get an advantage over him. But Bussy had had time to +prepare himself, and he was quite ready. + +"Yes, let us talk, monseigneur," replied he. + +"The last day I saw you, my poor Bussy, you were very ill." + +"It is true, monseigneur, I was very ill, and it was almost a +miracle that saved me." + +"There was near you a doctor very devoted to you, for he growled +at everyone who approached you." + +"True, prince, Remy loves me." + +"He kept you rigorously to your bed, did he not?" + +"At which I was in a great rage, as your highness might have seen." + +"But, if that were the case, why did you not send the doctor to +the devil, and come out with me as I begged you to do? But as +it was a grave affair, you were afraid to compromise yourself." + +"Did you say I was afraid?" + +"I did say so." + +"Well, then, it was a lie!" said Bussy, jumping up from his chair; +"you lied to yourself, monseigneur, for you do not believe a single +word of what you say. There are twenty scars on my body, which +prove the contrary. I never knew fear, and, ma foi, I know people +who cannot say the same." + +"You have always unanswerable arguments, M. de Bussy," cried the +duke, turning very pale; "when you are accused, you cry louder +than your accuser, and then you think you are right." + +"Oh! I am not always right, I know well, but I know on what occasions +I am wrong." + +"And what are they?" + +"When I serve ungrateful people." + +"Really, monsieur, I think you forget yourself," said the duke, +with some dignity. Bussy moved towards the door, but the prince +stopped him. + +"Do you deny, monsieur," said he, "that after refusing to go out +with me, you went out immediately after?" + +"I deny nothing, monseigneur, but I will not be forced to +confession." + +"Tell me why you would not go out with me." + +"I had business." + +"At home?" + +"Or elsewhere." + +"I thought that when a gentleman was in the service of a prince, +his principal business was that of the prince." + +"And who does your business generally, monseigneur, if not I?" + +"I do not say no; generally I find you faithful and devoted, and, +I will say more, I excuse your bad humor." + +"You are very good." + +"Yes, for you had some reason to be angry." + +"Ah! you confess it." + +"Yes, I promised you the disgrace of M. de Monsoreau. It seems +you hate him very much." + +"I! not at all. I find him very ugly, and should have liked him +away from court, not to have had to look at him. It seems, however, +that you admire him, and there is no accounting for tastes." + +"Well, then, as that was your sole excuse, you were doubly wrong +to refuse to accompany me, and then to go out after, and commit +follies." + +"Follies! what did I do?" + +"Doubtless, you do not like MM. d'Epernon and Schomberg, neither +do I, but one must have some prudence. Kill them, and I should +be grateful to you, but do not exasperate them." + +"What did I do to them?" + +"Why, you had D'Epernon stoned." + +"I!" + +"Yes, so that his clothes were torn to pieces." + +"Good! and what about M. Schomberg?" + +"You will not deny that you had him dyed indigo color? When I +saw him three hours after, he was still bright blue. Do you call +that a joke?" And the prince laughed in spite of himself, and +Bussy joined him. + +"Then," said he, "they think it was I who played them these tricks!" + +"Perhaps it was I." + +"And you have the conscience to reproach a man who had such fine +ideas." + +"Well, I pardon you. But I have another complaint to make. What +did you do to deliver me from my unlucky situation?" + +"You see, I came to Anjou." + +"It seems to me that you would have been more useful nearer." + +"Ah! there we differ; I preferred coming to Anjou." + +"Your caprice is a bad reason." + +"But, if I came to gather your partisans?" + +"Ah! that is different. What have you done?" + +"I will explain that to you to-morrow; at present I must leave +you." + +"Why!" + +"I have to see an important person." + +"Oh, very well; but be prudent." + +"Prudent! are we not the strongest here?" + +"Never mind, risk nothing. Have you done much?" + +"I have only been here two days." + +"But you keep yourself concealed, I hope." + +"I should think so. Look at my dress; am I in the habit of wearing +cinnamon-colored clothes?" + +"And where are you lodging?" + +"Ah! I hope you will appreciate my devotion; in a tumble-down +old house, near the ramparts. But you, my prince, how did you +get out of the Louvre? How was it that I found you on the road, +with M. d'Aubigne for a companion?" + +"Because I have friends." + +"You! friends!" + +"Yes, friends that you do not know." + +"Well, and who are they?" + +"The King of Navarre and D'Aubigne, whom you saw." + +"The King of Navarre! Ah! true, did you not conspire together?" + +"I never conspired, M. de Bussy." + +"No; ask poor La Mole and Coconnas." + +"La Mole," said the prince, gloomily, "died for another crime +than the one alleged against him." + +"Well, never mind him. How the devil did you get out of the Louvre?" + +"Through the window." + +"Which window?" + +"That of my bedroom." + +"Then you knew of the rope-ladder?" + +"What rope-ladder?" + +"In the cupboard." + +"Ah! it seems you knew it," cried the prince, turning pale. + +"Oh! your highness knows I have sometimes had the happiness of +entering that room." + +"In the time of my sister Margot. Then you came in by the window?" + +"As you came out. All that astonishes me is, that you knew of +the ladder." + +"It was not I who found it." + +"Who then?" + +"I was told of it." + +"By whom?" + +"By the King of Navarre." + +"Ah! the King of Navarre knew of it; I should not have thought +so. However, now you are here safe and sound, we will put Anjou +in flames, and Bearn and Angoumois will catch the light, so we +shall have a fine blaze." + +"But did you not speak of a rendezvous?" + +"It is true; the interest of the conversation was making me forget. +Adieu, monseigneur." + +"Do you take your horse?" + +"If it will be useful to you, monseigneur, you may keep it, I +have another." + +"Well! I accept; we will settle that later." + +The duke gave Bussy his hand, and they separated. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +THE IDEAS OF THE DUC D'ANJOU. + +Bussy returned home, but instead of St. Luc, whom he expected, +he found only a letter fixing their meeting for the next day. +About six in the morning St. Luc started, and rode straight to +Bussy's house. + +"Accept the hospitality of my poor hut, St. Luc," said Bussy, +"I am encamped here." + +"Yes, like a conqueror on the field of battle." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean, dear Bussy, that my wife has no secrets from me, and +has told me all. Receive my compliments, but, since you have +sent for me, permit me to give you a piece of advice." + +"Well." + +"Get rid as soon as possible of that abominable Monsoreau; no +one at the court knows of your love for his wife, so when you +marry the widow, no one will say you killed him on purpose." + +"There is but one obstacle to this project, which presented itself +to my mind, as to yours." + +"What is it?" + +"That I have sworn to Diana to respect the life of her husband, +as long as he does not attack me." + +"You were very wrong." + +"Why so?" + +"Because if you do not take the initiative, he will discover you, +and will kill you." + +"I cannot break my oath to Diana. Besides, he who is now a monster +in all eyes, would be thought an angel in his tomb." + +"Therefore I do not advise you to kill him yourself." + +"Oh, St. Luc, no assassins." + +"Who spoke of assassins?" + +"Of what then?" + +"Nothing; an idea passed through my mind; I will tell you what +it was at another time. I do not love this Monsoreau much more +than you, although I have not the same reason to detest him, +so let us speak of the wife instead of the husband." + +Bussy smiled. "You are a capital companion, St Luc," said he, +"and you may count on my friendship. Now my friendship consists +of three things, my purse, my sword, and my life. Now, what about +Diana?" + +"I wished to ask if you were not coming to Meridor." + +"My dear friend, I thank you, but you know my scruples." + +"I know all. At Meridor you fear to meet Monsoreau, although +he is eighty leagues off; fear to have to shake his hand, and +it is hard to shake the hand of the man you wish to strangle; +you fear to see him embrace Diana, and it is hard to see that +of the woman you love." + +"Ah! how well you understand!" cried Bussy, with rage; "but, +my dear friend, did you not hear last night the noise of bells +and guns?" + +"Yes; and we wondered what it meant." + +"It meant that the Duc d'Anjou arrived last night." + +St. Luc jumped up. "The duke here! We heard he was imprisoned +at the Louvre." + +"That is just why he is now at Angers. He managed to escape through +a window, and came here." + +"Well?" + +"Well, here is an excellent opportunity to revenge yourself for +the king's persecutions. The prince has already a party, he will +soon have troops, and we shall have something like a little civil +war." + +"Oh! oh!" + +"And I reckoned on you to help us." + +"Against the king?" said St. Luc, with sudden coldness. + +"Not precisely against the king, but against those who fight against +us." + +"My dear Bussy, I came here for country air, not to fight against +his majesty." + +"But let me present you to monseigneur." + +"Useless, my dear Bussy, I do not like Angers." + +"My dear St. Luc, you will do me a great service by consenting; +the duke asked me what I came here for, and, not being able to +tell because of his own passion for Diana, I said that I had +come to draw to his cause all the gentlemen in the Canton; I even +told him I had a rendezvous with one this morning." + +"Well! tell him you have seen the gentleman, and that he asks +six months to consider. Listen, I will always help you to defend +Diana, you shall help me to defend my wife. We will make a treaty +for love, but not for politics." + +"I see, I must yield to you, St. Luc, for you have the advantage +over me. I want you, and you do not want me." + +"On the contrary, it is I who claim your protection." + +"How so?" + +"Suppose the rebels besiege and sack Meridor." + +The two friends laughed; then, as the duke had sent to inquire +for Bussy, they separated with renewed promises of friendship, +and charmed with each other. + +Bussy went to the ducal palace, where already all the nobility of +the provinces were arriving. He hastened to arrange an official +reception, a repast and speeches, and having thus cut out some +hours' occupation for the prince, mounted his other horse, and +galloped to Meridor. The duke made some good speeches, and produced +a great effect, giving himself out for a prince persecuted by +the king on account of the love of the Parisians for him. When +Bussy returned, it was four in the afternoon; he dismounted, +and presented himself to the duke all covered with dust. + +"Ah! my brave Bussy, you have been at work?" + +"You see, monseigneur." + +"You are very hot." + +"I have ridden fast." + +"Take care not to get ill again." + +"There is no danger." + +"Whence do you come?" + +"From the environs. Is your highness content? have you had a numerous +assemblage?" + +"Yes, I am pretty well satisfied, but I missed some one." + +"Who?" + +"Your protege, the Baron de Meridor." + +Bussy changed color. + +"And yet we must not neglect him," continued the duke, "he is +influential here." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it. He was the correspondent of the League at Angers, +chosen by M. de Guise, and the Guises choose their men well. He +must come, Bussy." + +"But if he does not come?" + +"I will go to him." + +"To Meridor?" + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, why not, certainly," cried Bussy, with flashing eyes, "a +prince may do anything." + +"Then you think he is still angry with me?" + +"How should I know?" + +"You have not seen him?" + +"No." + +"As one of the great men of the province, I thought----" + +"I was not sufficiently fortunate in the former promises I made +him to be in a hurry to present myself to him." + +"Has he not attained his object?" + +"How so?" + +"He wanted his daughter to marry the count, and she has done so." + +Bussy turned his back on the duke, who, at the same moment, moved +towards another gentleman who entered the room. Bussy began to +reflect on what the duke's projects were with regard to the +baron--whether they were purely political, or whether he was still +seeking to approach Diana; but he imagined that, embroiled with +his brother, banished from the Louvre, and the chief of provincial +insurrection, he had sufficiently grave interests at stake to +outweigh his love fancies. He passed the night banqueting with +the duke and the Angevin gentlemen, then in dancing with the +Angevin ladies. It is needless to say that he was the admiration +of the latter, and the hatred of the husbands, several of whom +looked at him in a way which did not please him, so that, curling +his mustachios, he invited three or four of them to take a walk +with him by moonlight; but his reputation had preceded him, and +they all declined. + +At the door Bussy found a laughing face waiting for him, which +he believed to be eighty leagues off. + +"Ah," cried he joyfully, "it is you, Remy." + +"Yes monsieur." + +"I was going to write to you to join me." + +"Really!" + +"On my word." + +"That is capital; I was afraid you would scold me." + +"For what?" + +"For coming without leave. But I heard that Monsieur le Duc d'Anjou +had escaped, and had fled here. I knew you were here also, and I +thought there might be civil war, and many holes made in skins, +so I came." + +"You did well, Remy; I wanted you." + +"How is Gertrude, monsieur?" + +"I will ask Diana the first time I see her." + +"And, in return, every time I see her I will ask for news of Madame +de Monsoreau." + +"You are charming." + +Meanwhile they had reached Bussy's lodging. + +"Here is my palace; you must lodge as you can." + +"It will not be difficult; I could sleep standing, I am so tired." + +Bussy rose early the next morning, and went to the ducal palace, +leaving word for Remy to follow him. The duke had prepared a +list of important things to be done: firstly, a walk round the +walls to examine the fortifications; secondly, a review of the +inhabitants and their arms; thirdly, a visit to the arsenal; +fourthly, correspondence. + +"Ah!" cried the duke, "you already!" + +"Ma foi! yes, monseigneur; I could not sleep, your highness's +interests were so much on my mind. What shall we do this morning? +Shall we hunt?" + +"How!" said the duke, "you pretend to have been thinking all +night of my interests, and the result of so much meditation is +to propose to me a hunt!" + +"True," said Bussy; "besides, we have no hounds." + +"And no chief huntsman." + +"Ah, ma foi! the chase would be more agreeable without him." + +"Ah, I am not like you--I want him; he would have been very useful +to us here." + +"How so?" + +"He has property here." + +"He!" + +"He or his wife." + +Bussy bit his lips. + +"Meridor is only three leagues off, you know that," continued +the duke, "you, who brought the old baron to me." + +"Dame! I brought him because he hung on to my cloak. However, +my protection did not do him much good." + +"Listen," said the duke, "I have an idea." + +"Diable!" said Bussy, who was always suspicious of the duke's +ideas. + +"Yes; it is that, if Monsoreau had the advantage over you at first, +you shall have it now." + +"What do you mean?" + +"It is very simple; you know me, Bussy?" + +"I have that misfortune." + +"Think you I am the man to submit to an affront with impunity?" + +"Explain yourself, monseigneur." + +"Well, he stole the young girl I loved to make her his wife; now +I will steal his wife!" + +Bussy tried to smile, but made a grimace instead. + +"Steal his wife!" stammered he. + +"Nothing more easy, she is here, and you told me she hated her +husband; therefore, without too much vanity, I may flatter myself +she will give me the preference, if I promise her----" + +"What, monseigneur?" + +"To get rid of her husband for her." + +"You will do that?" + +"You shall see. Meanwhile I will pay a visit to Meridor." + +"You will dare?" + +"Why not?" + +"You will present yourself before the old baron, whom you abandoned +after promising me----" + +"I have an excellent excuse to give him." + +"Where the devil will you find it?" + +"Oh! I will say to him, I did not break this marriage, because +Monsoreau, who knew that you were one of the principal agents +to the League, threatened to denounce you to the king." + +"Has your highness invented that?" + +"Not entirely." + +"Then I understand." + +"Yes, I shall make him believe that by marrying his daughter I +saved his life." + +"It is superb." + +"Well! order the horses, and we will go to Meridor." + +"Immediately, monseigneur." Bussy then went to the door, but +turned back and said, "How many horses will your highness have?" + +"Oh, four or five, what you like." + +"If you leave it to me, I shall take a hundred." + +"What for?" cried the prince, surprised. + +"To have at least twenty-five I can rely on in case of attack." + +"Attack!" + +"Yes, I have heard that there are thick woods in that neighborhood, +and it would not surprise me if we fell into some ambush." + +"Ah, do you think so?" + +"Monseigneur knows that true courage does not exclude prudence; +I will order one hundred and fifty." + +And he moved towards the door. + +"A moment," said the prince. "Do you think I am in safety at Angers?" + +"Why, the town is not very strong, but well defended----" + +"Yes, but it may be badly defended; however brave you are, you +can be but in one place at a time." + +"True." + +"Then if I am not in safety here--and I am not if Bussy doubts----" + +"I did not say I doubted." + +"If I am not safe, I had better make myself so. I will go to the +castle and entrench myself." + +"You are right, monseigneur." + +"And then another idea." + +"The morning is fruitful." + +"I will make the Meridors come here." + +"Monseigneur, you are grand to-day. Now let us visit the castle." + +Bussy went out while the prince was getting ready, and found +Remy waiting. He wrote hastily a little note, picked a bunch of +roses from the conservatory, rolled the note round the stems, +went to the stable, brought out his horse, and, putting Remy +on it, and giving him the bouquet, led him out of the city. + +"Now," said he, "let Roland go; at the end of this road you will +find the forest, in the forest a park, round the park a wall, +and at that part of the wall where Roland stops, throw over this +bouquet." + +"He whom you expect does not come," said the note, "because he +who was not expected has come, and is more menacing than ever, +for he loves still. Take with the lips and the heart all that +is invisible to the eyes in this paper." + +In half an hour Remy reached his destination, carried by his +horse, and threw over the bouquet; a little cry from the other +side told him it had been received. Then Remy returned, in spite +of his horse, which seemed much put out at losing its accustomed +repast on the acorns. Remy joined Bussy as he was exploring a +cave with the prince. + +"Well," said he to his messenger, "what did you hear or see?" + +"A wall, a cry, seven leagues," replied Remy laconically. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +A FLIGHT OF ANGEVINS. + +Bussy contrived to occupy the duke so well with his preparations +for war during two days, that he found no time to think of Meridor, +and from time to time, under pretext of examining the outer +fortifications, jumped on Roland, and arrived at a certain wall, +which he got over all the more quickly because each time he made +some stone fall, and was, in fact, gradually making a breach. + +Towards the end of the third day, as an enormous convoy of provisions +was entering the city, the produce of a tax levied by the duke +on his good Angevins, as M. d'Anjou, to make himself popular, +was tasting the black bread and salt fish of the soldiers, they +heard a great noise at one of the gates of the city, where a man, +mounted on a white horse, had presented himself. Now Bussy had +had himself named Captain-General of Anjou, and had established +the most severe discipline in Angers; no one could go out of or +enter the town without a password; all which had no other aim +than to prevent the duke from sending a messenger to Meridor +without his knowledge. + +The man on the white horse had arrived at a furious gallop, and +had attempted to enter, but had been stopped. + +"I am Antragues," said he, "and desire to speak to the Duc d'Anjou." + +"We do not know Antragues," they replied, "but as for seeing +the duke, you shall be satisfied, for we shall arrest you, and +conduct you to him." + +"You are a nice fellow, truly, to talk of arresting Charles Balzac +d'Antragues, Baron de Cuneo, and Comte de Graville." + +"We will do so, however," replied the bourgeois, who had twenty +men behind him. + +"Wait a little, my good friends. You do not know the Parisians. +Well, I will show you a specimen of what they can do." + +"Let us arrest him!" cried the furious militia. + +"Softly, my little lambs of Anjou; it is I who will have that +pleasure." + +"What does he say?" asked the bourgeois. + +"He says that his horse has only gone ten leagues, and will ride +over you all." And drawing his sword and swinging it furiously +round, he cut off in his passage the blades of the nearest halberts, +and in less than ten minutes fifteen or twenty of them were changed +into broom-handles. + +"Ah! this is very amusing!" cried he, laughing, and as he spoke +stunning one of the bourgeois with a blow on the head with the +flat of his sword. However, as more and more bourgeois crowded +to the attack, and Antragues began to feel tired, he said, "Well, +you are as brave as lions; I will bear witness to it; but, you +see, you have nothing left but the handles of your halberts, +and you do not know how to load your muskets. I had resolved +to enter the city, but I did not know it was guarded by an army +of Caesars. I renounce my victory over you. Good evening, I am +going away; only tell the prince that I came here expressly to +see him." + +However, the captain had managed to communicate the fire to the +match of his musket, but just as he was raising it to his shoulder, +Antragues gave him such a furious blow upon the fingers that he +dropped it. + +"Kill him! kill him!" cried several voices, "do not let him escape!" + +"Ah!" said Antragues, "just now you would not let me come in, +now you will not let me go out. Take care, that will change my +tactics, and instead of the flat of my sword, I will use the +point--instead of cutting the halberts, I will cut the wrists. +Now, will you let me go?" + +"No, no, he is tired, kill him!" + +"Well, then, take care of your hands!" + +Scarcely had he spoken when another cavalier appeared, riding +furiously also, and who cried out as he approached: + +"Antragues, what are you doing among all these bourgeois?" + +"Livarot!" cried Antragues. "Mon Dieu, you are welcome; Montjoie +and St. Denis, to the rescue!" + +"I heard four hours ago that you were before me, and I have been +trying to catch you. But what is the matter; do they want to +massacre you?" + +"Yes, they will neither let me in nor out." + +"Gentlemen!" said Livarot, "will you please to step either to +the right or left, and let us pass." + +"They insult us! kill them!" cried the people. + +"Oh! this is Angers' manners!" said Livarot, drawing his sword. + +"Yes, you see; unluckily, there are so many of them." + +"If there were but three of us!" + +"And here is Ribeirac coming." + +"Do you hear him?" + +"I see him. Here, Ribeirac!" + +"Are you fighting?" cried Ribeirac. + +"Good morning, Livarot; good morning, Antragues." + +"Let us charge them," said Antragues. + +The bourgeois looked in stupefaction at this reinforcement that +was about to join the attacking party. + +"They are a regiment," said the captain of the militia. + +"This is only the advanced guard," cried another. + +"We are fathers of families, and our lives belong to our children," +said others, and they all tried to fly, fighting with each other +to get out of the way. + +At this stage of the affair Bussy and the prince arrived, followed +by twenty cavaliers, to ascertain the cause of the tumult. They +were told that it was three incarnate devils from Paris who were +making all the disturbance. + +"Three men, Bussy; see who they are." + +Bussy raised himself in his stirrups, and his quick eye soon +recognized Livarot. + +"Mort de ma vie, monseigneur," cried he, "they are our friends +from Paris who are besieging us." + +"No!" cried Livarot, "on the contrary, it is these people who +are killing us." + +"Down with your arms, knaves," cried the duke, "these are friends." + +"Friends!" cried the bourgeois, "then they should have had the +password; for we have been treating them like Pagans and they +us like Turks." + +Livarot, Antragues, and Ribeirac advanced in triumph to kiss the +duke's hand. + +"Monseigneur," said Bussy, "how many militia do you think there +were here?" + +"At least one hundred and fifty." + +"You have not very famous soldiers, since three men beat them." + +"True, but I shall have the three men who did beat them." + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. + +ROLAND. + +Thanks to the reinforcement which had arrived, M. le Duc d'Anjou +could go where he pleased; he explored the ramparts of the +surrounding country and castles. The Angevin gentlemen found +liberty and amusement at the court of the duke, and the three +friends were soon intimate with many of these nobles, especially +those who had pretty wives. The general joy was at its height +when twenty-two riding horses, thirty carriage horses, and forty +mules, together with litters, carriages and wagons, arrived at +Angers, all the property of the duke. We must allow that the +saddles were not paid for, and that the coffers were empty, but +still it made a magnificent effect. The duke's reputation for +wealth was henceforward solidly established, and all the province +remained convinced that he was rich enough to war against all +Europe if need were, therefore they did not grudge the new tax +which the prince imposed upon them. People never mind giving or +lending to rich people, only to poor ones; therefore the worthy +prince lived like a patriarch on all the fat of the land. Numerous +cavaliers arrived to offer to him their adhesions, or their offers +of service. One afternoon, however, about four o'clock, M. de +Monsoreau arrived on horseback at the gates of Angers. He had +ridden eighteen leagues that day; therefore his spurs were red, +and his horse covered with foam, and half dead. They no longer +made difficulties about letting strangers enter, therefore M. +de Monsoreau went straight through the city to the palace, and +asked for the duke. + +"He is out reconnoitering," replied the sentinel. + +"Where?" + +"I do not know." + +"Diable! What I have to say to him is very pressing." + +"First put your horse in the stable, or he will fall." + +"The advice is good; where are the stables?" + +As he spoke a man approached and asked for his name. M. de Monsoreau +gave it. The major-domo (for it was he) bowed respectfully, for +the chief huntsman's name was well known in Anjou. + +"Monsieur," said he, "please to enter and take some repose. +Monseigneur has not been out more than ten minutes, and will not +be back till eight o'clock." + +"Eight o'clock! I cannot wait so long; I am the bearer of news +which cannot be too soon known to his highness. Can I not have +a horse and a guide?" + +"There are plenty of horses, but a guide is a different thing, +for his highness did not say where he was going." + +"Well, I will take a fresh horse, and try to discover him." + +"Probably you will hear where he has passed, monsieur." + +"Do they ride fast?" + +"Oh no." + +"Well, get me a horse then." + +"Will monsieur come into the stables and choose one? they all +belong to the duke." Monsoreau entered. Ten or twelve fine horses, +quite fresh, were feeding from the manger, which was filled with +grain. + +Monsoreau looked over them, and then said, "I will take this bay." + +"Roland?" + +"Is that his name?" + +"Yes, and it is his highness's favorite horse. M. de Bussy gave +him to the duke, and it is quite a chance that it is here to-day." + +Ronald was soon saddled, and Monsoreau rode out of the stable. + +"In which direction did they start?" asked he. + +The man pointed it out. + +"Ma foi!" said Monsoreau, "the horse seems to know the way." + +Indeed, the animal set off without being urged, and went deliberately +out of the city, took a short cut to the gate, and then began to +accelerate his pace: Monsoreau let him go. He went along the +boulevard, then turned into a shady lane, which cut across the +country, passing gradually from a trot to a gallop. + +"Oh!" thought Monsoreau, as they entered the woods, "one would +say we were going to Meridor. Can his highness be there?" and +his face grew black at the thought. + +"Oh!" murmured he, "I who was going to see the prince, and putting +off till to-morrow to see my wife; shall I see them both at the +same time?" + +The horse went on, turning always to the right. + +"We cannot be far from the park," said he. + +At that moment his horse neighed, and another answered him. In +a minute Monsoreau saw a wall, and a horse tied to a neighboring +tree. + +"There is some one," thought he, turning pale. + + + + +CHAPTER LX. + +WHAT M. DE MONSOREAU CAME TO ANNOUNCE. + +As M. de Monsoreau approached, he remarked the dilapidation of +the wall; it was almost in steps, and the brambles had been torn +away, and were lying about. He looked at the horse standing there. +The animal had a saddle-cloth embroidered in silver, and in one +corner an F. and an A. There was no doubt, then, that it came +from the prince's stables; the letters stood for Francois d'Anjou. +The count's suspicions at this sight became real alarm; the duke +had come here, and had come often, for, besides the horse waiting +there, there was a second that knew the way. He tied up his horse +near to the other, and began to scale the wall. It was an easy +task; there were places for both feet and hands, and the branches +of an oak-tree, which hung over, had been carefully cut away. +Once up, he saw at the foot of a tree a blue mantilla and a black +cloak, and not far off a man and woman, walking hand in hand, +with their backs turned to the wall, and nearly hidden by the +trees. Unluckily, with M. de Monsoreau's weight a stone fell +from the wall on the crackling branches with a great noise. + +At this noise the lovers must have turned and seen him, for the +cry of a woman was heard, and a rustling of the branches as they +ran away like startled deer. At this cry, Monsoreau felt cold +drops on his forehead, for he recognized Diana's voice. Full of +fury, he jumped over the wall, and with his drawn sword in his +hand, tried to follow the fugitives, but they had disappeared, +and, there was not a trace or a sound to guide him. He stopped, +and considered that he was too much under the influence of passion +to act with prudence against so powerful a rival. Then a sublime +idea occurred to him; it was to climb back again over the wall, +and carry off with his own the horse he had seen there. He retraced +his steps to the wall and climbed up again; but on the other +side no horse was to be seen; his idea was so good, that before +it came to him it had come to his adversary. He uttered a howl +of rage, clenching his fists, but started off at once on foot. +In two hours and a half, he arrived at the gates of the city, +dying with hunger and fatigue, but determined to interrogate +every sentinel, and find out by what gate a man had entered with +two horses. The first sentinel he applied to said that, about +two hours before, a horse without a rider had passed through +the gate, and had taken the road to the palace; he feared some +accident must have happened to his rider. Monsoreau ground his +teeth with passion, and went on to the castle. There he found great +life and gaiety, windows lighted up, and animation everywhere. He +went first to the stable, and found his horse in the stall he +had taken him from; then, without changing his dress, he went +to the dining-room. The prince and all his gentlemen were sitting +round a table magnificently served and lighted. The duke, who +had been told of his arrival, received him without surprise, +and told him to sit down and sup with him. + +"Monseigneur," replied he, "I am hungry, tired, and thirsty; but +I will neither eat, drink, nor sit down till I have delivered +my important message." + +"You come from Paris?" + +"Yes, in great haste." + +"Well, speak." + +Monsoreau advanced, with a smile on his lips and hatred In his +heart, and said, "Monseigneur, your mother is advancing hastily +to visit you." + +The duke looked delighted. "It is well," said he; "M. de Monsoreau, +I find you to-day, as ever, a faithful servant; let us continue +our supper, gentlemen." + +Monsoreau sat down with them, but gloomy and preoccupied. He +still seemed to see the two figures among the trees, and to hear +the cry of Diana. + +"You are overcome with weariness," said the prince to him, "really, +you had better go to bed." + +"Yes," said Livarot, "or he will go to sleep in his chair." + +"Pardon, monseigneur, I am tired out." + +"Get tipsy," said Antragues; "there is nothing so good when you +are tired. To your health, count!" + +"You must give us some good hunts," said Ribeirac, "you know the +country." + +"You have horses and woods here," said Antragues. + +"And a wife," added Livarot. + +"We will hunt a boar, count," said the prince. + +"Oh, yes, to-morrow!" cried the gentlemen. + +"What do you say, Monsoreau?" + +"I am always at your highness's orders, but I am too much fatigued +to conduct a chase to-morrow; besides which, I must examine the +woods." + +"And we must leave him time to see his wife," cried the duke. + +"Granted," cried the young men; "we give him twenty-four hours +to do all he has to do." + +"Yes, gentlemen, I promise to employ them well." + +"Now go to bed," said the duke, and M. de Monsoreau bowed, and +went out, very happy to escape. + + + + +CHAPTER LXI. + +HOW THE KING LEARNED THE FLIGHT OF HIS BELOVED BROTHER, AND WHAT +FOLLOWED. + +When Monsoreau had retired, the repast continued, and was more +gay and joyous than ever. + +"Now, Livarot," said the duke, "finish the recital of your flight +from Paris, which Monsoreau interrupted." + +Livarot began again, but as our title of historian gives us the +privilege of knowing better than Livarot himself what had passed, +we will substitute our recital for that of the young man. + +Towards the middle of the night Henri III. was awoke by an +unaccustomed noise in the palace. It was oaths, blows on the +wall, rapid steps in the galleries, and, amidst all, these words +continually sounding, "What will the king say?" + +Henri sat up and called Chicot, who was asleep on the couch. + +Chicot opened one eye. + +"Ah, you were wrong to call me, Henri," said he; "I was dreaming +that you had a son." + +"But listen." + +"To what? You say enough follies to me by day, without breaking +in on my nights." + +"But do you not hear?" + +"Oh, oh! I do hear cries." + +"Do you hear, 'What will the king say?'" + +"It is one of two things--either your dog Narcissus is ill, or +the Huguenots are taking their revenge for St. Bartholomew." + +"Help me to dress." + +"If you will first help me to get up." + +"What a misfortune!" sounded from the antechamber. + +"Shall we arm ourselves?" said the king. + +"We had better go first and see what is the matter." + +And almost immediately they went out by the secret door into the +gallery. "I begin to guess," said Chicot; "your unlucky prisoner +has hanged himself." + +"Oh, no; it cannot be that." + +"So much the worse." + +"Come on;" and they entered the duke's chamber. + +The window was open, and the ladder still hung from it. Henri +grew as pale as death. + +"Oh, my son, you are not so blase as I thought!" said Chicot. + +"Escaped!" cried Henri, in such a thundering voice that all the +gentlemen who were crowded round the window turned in terror. +Schomberg tore his hair, Quelus and Maugiron struck themselves +like madmen; as for D'Epernon, he had vanished. This sight calmed +the king. + +"Gently, my son," said he, laying hold of Maugiron. + +"No! mordieu!" cried he, "I will kill myself!" and he knocked +his head against the wall. + +"Hola! help me to hold him." + +"It would be an easier death to pass your sword through your body!" +said Chicot. + +"Quelus, my child," said the king, "you will be as blue as Schomberg +when he came out of the indigo." + +Quelus stopped, but Schomberg still continued to tear at his hair. + +"Schomberg, Schomberg, a little reason, I beg." + +"It is enough to drive one mad!" + +"Indeed, it is a dreadful misfortune; there will be a civil war +in my kingdom. Who did it--who furnished the ladder? Mordieu! +I will hang all the city! Who was it? Ten thousand crowns to +whoever will tell me his name, and one hundred thousand to whoever +will bring him to me, dead or alive!" + +"It must have been some Angevin," said Maugiron. + +"Oh yes! we will kill all the Angevins!" cried Quelus. However, +the king suddenly disappeared; he had thought of his mother, +and, without saying a word, went to her. When he entered, she +was half lying in a great armchair: She heard the news without +answering. + +"You say nothing, mother. Does not this flight seem to you criminal, +and worthy of punishment?" + +"My dear son, liberty is worth as much as a crown; and remember, +I advised you to fly in order to gain a crown." + +"My mother, he braves me--he outrages me!" + +"No; he only saves himself." + +"Ah! this is how you take my part." + +"What do you mean, my son?" + +"I mean that with age the feelings grow calm--that you do not +love me as much as you used to do." + +"You are wrong, my son," said Catherine coldly; "you are my beloved +son, but he of whom you complain is also my son." + +"Well, then, madame, I will go to find other counselors capable +of feeling for me and of aiding me." + +"Go, my son; and may God guide your counselors, for they will +have need of it to aid you in this strait." + +"Adieu, then, madame!" + +"Adieu, Henri! I do not pretend to counsel you--you do not need +me, I know--but beg your counselors to reflect well before they +advise, and still more before they execute." + +"Yes, madame, for the position is difficult." + +"Very grave," replied she, raising her eyes to heaven. + +"Have you any idea who it was that carried him off?" Catherine +did not reply. + +"I think it was the Angevins," continued the king. + +Catherine smiled scornfully. + +"The Angevins!" + +"You do not think so?" + +"Do you, really?" + +"Tell me what you think, madame." + +"Why should I?" + +"To enlighten me." + +"Enlighten you! I am but a doting old woman, whose only influence +lies in her prayers and repentance." + +"No, mother; speak, you are the cleverest of us all." + +"Useless; I have only ideas of the last century; at my age it +is impossible I should give good counsel." + +"Well, then, mother, refuse me your counsel, deprive me of your +aid. In an hour I will hang all the Angevins in Paris." + +"Hang all the Angevins!" cried Catherine, in amazement. + +"Yes, hang, slay, massacre, burn; already, perhaps, my friends +are out to begin the work." + +"They will ruin themselves, and you with them." + +"How so?" + +"Blind! Will kings eternally have eyes, and not see?" + +"Kings must avenge their injuries, it is but justice, and in this +case all my subjects will rise to defend me." + +"You are mad." + +"Why so?" + +"You will make oceans of blood flow. The standard of revolt will +soon be raised; and you will arm against you a host who never +would rise for Francois." + +"But if I do not revenge myself they will think I am afraid." + +"Did any one ever think I was afraid? Besides, it was not the +Angevins." + +"Who was it then? it must have been my brother's friends." + +"Your brother has no friends." + +"But who was it then?" + +"Your enemy." + +"What enemy?" + +"O! my son, you know you have never had but one; yours, mine, +your brother Charles's; always the same." + +"Henri of Navarre, you mean?" + +"Yes, Henri of Navarre." + +"He is not at Paris." + +"Do you know who is at Paris, and who is not? No, you are all +deaf and blind." + +"Can it have been he?" + +"My son, at every disappointment you meet with, at every misfortune +that happens to you of which the author is unknown, do not seek +or conjecture; it is useless. Cry out, it is Henri of Navarre, +and you will be sure to be right. Strike on the side where he +is, and you will be sure to strike right. Oh! that man, that +man; he is the sword suspended over the head of the Valois." + +"Then you think I should countermand my orders about the Angevins?" + +"At once, without losing an instant. Hasten; perhaps you are already +too late." + +Henry flew out of the Louvre to find his friends, but found only +Chicot drawing figures in the sand with a stone. + + + + +CHAPTER LXII. + +HOW, AS CHICOT AND THE QUEEN MOTHER WERE AGREED, THE KING BEGAN +TO AGREE WITH THEM. + +"Is this how you defend your king?" cried Henri. + +"Yes, it is my manner, and I think it is a good one." + +"Good, indeed!" + +"I maintain it, and I will prove it." + +"I am curious to hear this proof." + +"It is easy; but first, we have committed a great folly." + +"How so?" cried Henri, struck by the agreement between Chicot +and his mother. + +"Yes," replied Chicot, "your friends are crying through the city, +'Death to the Angevins!' and now that I reflect, it was never +proved that they had anything to do with the affair. And your +friends, crying thus through the city, will raise that nice little +civil war of which MM. de Guise have so much need, and which +they did not succeed in raising for themselves. Besides which, +your friends may get killed, which would not displease me, I +confess, but which would afflict you, or else they will chase +all the Angevins from the city, which will please M. d'Anjou +enormously." + +"Do you think things are so bad?" + +"Yes, if not worse." + +"But all this does not explain what you do here, sitting on a +stone." + +"I am tracing a plan of all the provinces that your brother will +raise against you, and the number of men each will furnish to +the revolt." + +"Chicot, Chicot, you are a bird of bad augury." + +"The owl sings at night, my son, it is his hour. Now it is dark, +Henri, so dark that one might take the day for the night, and +I sing what you ought to hear. Look!" + +"At what?" + +"My geographical plan. Here is Anjou, something like a tartlet, +you see; there your brother will take refuge. Anjou, well managed, +as Monsoreau and Bussy will manage it, will alone furnish to +your brother ten thousand combatants." + +"Do you think so?" + +"That is the minimum; let us pass to Guyenne; here it is, this +figure like a calf walking on one leg. Of course, you will not +be astonished to find discontent in Guyenne; it is an old focus +for revolt, and will be enchanted to rise. They can furnish 8,000 +soldiers; that is not much, but they are well trained. Then we +have Bearn and Navarre; you see these two compartments, which look +like an ape on the back of an elephant--they may furnish about +16,000. Let us count now--10,000 for Anjou, 8,000 for Guyenne, +16,000 for Bearn and Navarre; making a total of 34,000." + +"You think, then, that the King of Navarre will join my brother?" + +"I should think so." + +"Do you believe that he had anything to do with my brother's escape?" + +Chicot looked at him. "That is not your own idea, Henri." + +"Why not?" + +"It is too clever, my son." + +"Never mind whose idea it was; answer my question." + +"Well! I heard a 'Ventre St. Gris' in the Rue de la Ferronnerie." + +"You heard a 'Ventre St. Gris!' But it might not have been he." + +"I saw him." + +"You saw Henri of Navarre in Paris?" + +"Yes." + +"You saw my mortal enemy here, and did not tell me?" + +"I am not a spy. Then there are the Guises; 20,000 or 25,000 +men under the orders of the Duc de Guise will make up altogether +a nice little army." + +"But Henri of Navarre and the Duc de Guise are enemies." + +"Which will not prevent them from uniting against you; they will +be free to fight with each other when they have conquered you." + +"You are right, Chicot, and my mother is right. I will call the +Swiss." + +"Oh, yes! Quelus has got them." + +"My guards, then." + +"Schomberg has them." + +"My household at least." + +"They have gone with Maugiron." + +"Without my orders?" + +"And when do you ever give orders, except, perhaps, to flagellate +either your own skin, or that of others?--But about government.--Bah! +allow me to observe that you have been a long time finding out +that you rank seventh or eighth in this kingdom." + +"Here they are!" cried the king, as three cavaliers approached, +followed by a crowd of men on foot and on horseback. + +"Schomberg! Quelus! come here," cried the king. They approached. + +"I have been seeking you, and waiting for you impatiently. What +have you done? Do not go away again without my permission." + +"There is no more need," said Maugiron, who now approached, "since +all is finished." + +"All is finished?" + +"Heaven be praised," said D'Epernon, appearing all at once, no +one knew from whence. + +"Then you have killed them?" cried the king; "well, at least the +dead do not return." + +"Oh! we had not that trouble; the cowards ran away, we had scarcely +time to cross our swords with them." + +Henri grew pale. "With whom?" said he. + +"With Antragues?" + +"On the contrary, he killed a lackey of Quelus's." + +"Oh!" murmured the king, "here is a civil war lighted up." + +Quelus started. "It is true," said he. + +"Ah," said Chicot. "You begin to perceive it, do you?" + +"But, M. Chicot, you cried with us, 'Death to the Angevins!'" + +"Oh! that is a different thing; I am a fool, and you are clever +men." + +"Come, peace, gentlemen; we shall have enough of war soon." + +"What are your majesty's orders?" + +"That you employ the same ardor in calming the people as you have +done in exciting them, and that you bring back all the Swiss, +my guards, and my household, and have the doors of the Louvre +closed, so that perhaps tomorrow the bourgeois may take the whole +thing for a sortie of drunken people." + +The young men went off, and Henri returned to his mother. + +"Well," said she, "what has passed?" + +"All you foresaw, mother." + +"They have escaped?" + +"Alas! yes." + +"What else?" + +"Is not that enough?" + +"The city?" + +"Is in tumult; but that is not what disquiets me." + +"No, it is the provinces." + +"Which will revolt." + +"What shall you do?" + +"I see but one thing." + +"What is that?" + +"To withdraw the army from La Charite, and march on Anjou." + +"And M. de Guise?" + +"Oh, I will arrest him if necessary." + +"And you think violent measures will succeed?" + +"What can I do, then?" + +"Your plan will not do." + +"Well, what is your idea?" + +"Send an ambassador." + +"To whom?" + +"To your brother." + +"An ambassador to that traitor! You humiliate me, mother." + +"This is not a moment to be proud." + +"An ambassador will ask for peace?" + +"Who will buy it if necessary." + +"With what? mon Dieu!" + +"If it were only to secure quietly, afterwards, those who have +gone to make war on you." + +"I would give much for that." + +"Well, then, the end is worth the means." + +"I believe you are right, mother; but whom shall I send?" + +"Seek among your friends." + +"My mother, I do not know a single man to whom I could confide +such a mission." + +"Confide it to a woman, then." + +"My mother, would you consent?" + +"My son, I am very old, and very weak, and death will perhaps +await me on my return; but I will make this journey so rapidly +that your brother and his friends will not have had time to learn +their own power." + +"Oh, my good mother!" cried Henri, kissing her hands, "you are +my support, my benefactress!" + +"That means that I am still Queen of France," murmured she. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIII. + +IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT GRATITUDE WAS ONE OF ST. LUC'S VIRTUES. + +The next morning, M. de Monsoreau rose early, and descended into +the courtyard of the palace. He entered the stable, where Roland +was in his place. + +"Are the horses of monseigneur taught to return to their stable +alone?" asked he of the man who stood there. + +"No, M. le Comte." + +"But Roland did so yesterday." + +"Oh, he is remarkably intelligent." + +"Has he ever done it before?" + +"No, monsieur; he is generally ridden by the Duc d'Anjou, who +is a good rider, and never gets thrown." + +"I was not thrown," replied the count, "for I also am a good +rider; no, I tied him to a tree while I entered a house, and +at my return he had disappeared. I thought he had been stolen, +or that some passer-by had played a bad joke by carrying him +away; that was why I asked how he returned to the stable." + +"He returned alone, as monsieur said just now." + +"It is strange. Monseigneur often rides this horse, you say?" + +"Nearly every day." + +"His highness returned late last night?" + +"About an hour before you." + +"And what horse did he ride? was it a bay with a white star on +his forehead?" + +"No, monsieur, he rode Isolin, which you see here." + +"And in the prince's escort is there any one who rides such a +horse as I describe?" + +"I know of no one." + +"Well," said Monsoreau, impatiently, "saddle me Roland." + +"Roland?" + +"Yes, are there any orders against it?" + +"No; on the contrary, I was told to let you have any horse you +pleased." + +When Roland was saddled, Monsoreau said to the man, "What are +your wages?" + +"Twenty crowns, monsieur." + +"Will you earn ten times that sum at once?" + +"I ask no better. But how?" + +"Find out who rode yesterday the horse I described." + +"Ah, monsieur, what you ask is very difficult, there are so many +gentlemen come here." + +"Yes, but two hundred crowns are worth some trouble." + +"Certainly, M. le Comte, and I will do my best to discover." + +"That is right, and here are ten crowns to encourage you." + +"Thanks, M. le Comte." + +"Well, tell the prince I have gone to reconnoiter the wood for +the chase." + +As he spoke he heard steps behind him, and turned. + +"Ah, M. de Bussy!" he cried. + +"Why, M. le Comte, who would have thought of seeing you here!" + +"And you, who they said was so ill." + +"So I am; my doctor orders absolute rest, and for a week I have +not left the city. Ah! you are going to ride Roland; I sold him +to the duke, who is very fond of him." + +"Yes, he is an excellent animal; I rode him yesterday." + +"Which makes you wish for him again to-day?" + +"Yes." + +"You were speaking of a chase." + +"Yes, the prince wishes for one." + +"Whereabouts is it to be?" + +"Near Meridor. Will you come with me?" + +"No, thank you, I do not feel well." + +"Oh!" cried a voice from behind, "there is M. de Bussy out without +permission." + +"Ah! there is my doctor scolding. Adieu, comte." + +Bussy went away, and Monsoreau jumped into the saddle. + +"What is the matter?" said Remy; "you look so pale, I believe +you are really ill." + +"Do you know where he is going?" + +"No." + +"To Meridor." + +"Well, did you hope he would not?" + +"Mon Dieu! what will happen, after what he saw yesterday?" + +"Madame de Monsoreau will deny everything." + +"But he saw her." + +"She will say he did not." + +"She will never have the courage." + +"Oh, M. de Bussy, is it possible you do not know women better +than that!" + +"Remy, I feel very ill." + +"So I see. Go home, and I will prescribe for you." + +"What?" + +"A slice of fowl and ham, and some lobster." + +"Oh, I am not hungry." + +"The more reason I should order you to eat." + +"Remy, I fear that that wretch will make a great scene at Meridor. +I ought to have gone with him when he asked me." + +"What for?" + +"To sustain Diana." + +"Oh, she will sustain herself. Besides, you ought not to be out; +we agreed you were too ill." + +"I could not help it, Remy, I was so unquiet." + +Remy carried him off, and made him sit down to a good breakfast. + +M. de Monsoreau wished to see if it were chance or habit that +had led Roland to the park wall; therefore he left the bridle on +his neck. Roland took precisely the same road as on the previous +day, and before very long M. de Monsoreau found himself in the +same spot as before. Only now the place was solitary, and no +horse was there. The count climbed the wall again, but no one +was to be seen; therefore, judging that it was useless to watch +for people on their guard, he went on to the park gates. The +baron, seeing his son-in-law coming over the drawbridge, advanced +ceremoniously to meet him. Diana, seated under a magnificent +sycamore, was reading poetry, while Gertrude was embroidering +at her side. The count, seeing them, got off his horse, and +approached them. + +"Madame," said he, "will you grant me the favor of an interview?" + +"Willingly, monsieur." + +"What calm, or rather what perfidy!" thought the count. + +"Do you do us the honor of remaining at the chat?" asked the baron. + +"Yes, monsieur, until to-morrow, at least." + +The baron went away to give orders, and Diana reseated herself, +while Monsoreau took Gertrude's chair, and, with a look sufficient +to intimidate most people, said: + +"Madame, who was in the park with you yesterday?" + +"At what time?" said Diana, in a firm voice. + +"At six." + +"Where?" + +"Near the copse." + +"It must have been some one else, it was not I." + +"It was you, madame." + +"What do you know about it?" + +"Tell me the man's name!" cried Monsoreau, furiously. + +"What man?" + +"The man who was walking with you." + +"I cannot tell, if it was some other woman." + +"It was you, I tell you." + +"You are wrong, monsieur." + +"How dare you deny it? I saw you." + +"You, monsieur?" + +"Yes, madame, myself. And there is no other lady here." + +"You are wrong again; there is Jeanne de Brissac." + +"Madame de St. Luc?" + +"Yes, my friend." + +"And M. de St. Luc?" + +"Never leaves her; theirs was a love-match; you must have seen +them." + +"It was not them; it was you, with some man whom I do not know, +but whom I will know, I swear. I heard your cry." + +"When you are more reasonable, monsieur, I shall be ready to hear +you; at present I will retire." + +"No, madame, you shall stay." + +"Monsieur, here are M. and Madame de St. Luc, I trust you will +contain yourself." + +Indeed, M. and Madame de St. Luc approached. She bowed to Monsoreau, +and St. Luc gave him his hand; then, leaving his wife to Monsoreau, +took Diana, and after a walk they returned, warned by the bell for +dinner, which was early at Meridor, as the baron preserved the +old customs. The conversation was general, and turned naturally +on the Duc d'Anjou, and the movement his arrival had caused. +Diana sat far from her husband, between St. Luc and the baron. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIV. + +THE PROJECT OF M. DE ST. LUC. + +When the repast was over, Monsoreau took St. Luc's arm and went +out. "Do you know," said he, "that I am very happy to have found +you here, for the solitude of Meridor frightened me." + +"What, with your wife? As for me, with such a companion I should +find a desert delightful." + +"I do not say no, but still----" + +"Still, what?" + +"I am very glad to have met you here." + +"Really, monsieur, you are very polite, for I cannot believe +that you could possibly fear ennui with such a companion, and +such a country." + +"Bah! I pass half my life in the woods." + +"The more reason for being fond of them, it seems to me. I know +I shall be very sorry to leave them; unluckily, I fear I shall +be forced to do so before long." + +"Why so?" + +"Oh! monsieur, when is man the arbiter of his own destiny? He +is like the leaf of the tree, which the wind blows about. You +are very fortunate." + +"Fortunate; how?" + +"To live amongst these splendid trees." + +"Oh! I do not think I shall stay here long; I am not so fond +of nature, and I fear these woods; I think they are not safe." + +"Why? on account of their loneliness, do you mean?" + +"No, not that, for I suppose you see friends here." + +"Not a soul." + +"Ah! really. How long is it since you had any visitor?" + +"Not since I have been here." + +"Not one gentleman from the court at Angers?" + +"Not one." + +"Impossible." + +"It is true." + +"Then I am wrong." + +"Perfectly; but why is not the park safe, are there bears here?" + +"Oh, no." + +"Wolves?" + +"No." + +"Robbers?" + +"Perhaps. Tell me, monsieur, Madame de St. Luc seemed to me very +pretty; is she not?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Does she often walk in the park?" + +"Often; she adores the woods, like myself." + +"And do you accompany her?" + +"Always." + +"Nearly always?" + +"What the devil are you driving at?" + +"Oh; mon Dieu, nothing; or, at least, a trifle." + +"I listen." + +"They told me----" + +"Well?" + +"You will not be angry?" + +"I never am so." + +"Besides, between husbands, these confidences are right; they +told me a man had been seen wandering in the park." + +"A man." + +"Yes." + +"Who came for my wife?" + +"Oh! I do not say that." + +"You would be wrong not to tell me, my dear Monsoreau. Who saw +him? pray tell me." + +"Oh! to tell you the truth, I do not think it was for Madame de +St. Luc that he came." + +"For whom, then?" + +"Ah! I fear it is for Diana." + +"Oh! I should like that better." + +"What?" + +"Certainly; you know we husbands are an egotistical set. Everyone +for himself, and God for us all." + +"The devil rather." + +"Then you think a man entered here?" + +"I think so." + +"And I do more than think," said St. Luc, "for I saw him." + +"You saw a man in the park?" + +"Yes." + +"When?" + +"Yesterday." + +"Alone?" + +"With Madame de Monsoreau." + +"Where?" + +"Just here to the left." And as they had walked down to the old +copse, St. Luc pointed out the spot where Bussy always came over. + +"Ah!" continued he, "here is a wall in a bad state; I must warn +the baron." + +"Whom do you suspect?" + +"Of what?" + +"Of climbing over here to talk to my wife." St. Luc seemed to +reflect. + +"Diable!" said he, "it could only have been----" + +"Whom?" + +"Why, yourself." + +"Are you joking, M. de St. Luc?" + +"Ma foi, no; when I was first married I did such things." + +"Come! you are trying to put me off; but do not fear, I have courage. +Help me to seek, you will do me an immense favor." + +St. Luc shook his head. "It must have been you," said he. + +"Do not jest, I beg of you; the thing is serious." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I am sure of it." + +"Oh! and how does this man come?" + +"Secretly." + +"Often?" + +"I fear so; look at the marks in the wall." + +"Well, I suspected it, but I always fancied it was you." + +"But I tell you, no!" + +"Oh, I believe you, my dear sir." + +"Well, then----" + +"It must have been some one else." + +Monsoreau began to look black, but St. Luc preserved his easy +nonchalance. + +"I have an idea," said he. + +"Tell me." + +"If it were----" + +"Well!" + +"But, no." + +"Pray speak." + +"The Duc d'Anjou." + +"I thought so at first, but I have made inquiries, and it could +not have been he." + +"Oh! he is very cunning." + +"Yes, but it was not he." + +"Wait, then." + +"Well!" + +"I have another idea; if it was neither you nor the duke, it must +have been I." + +"You?" + +"Why not?" + +"You to come on horseback to the outside of the park, when you +live inside!" + +"Oh, mon Dieu! I am such a capricious being." + +"You, who fled away when you saw me!" + +"Oh! any one would do that." + +"Then you were doing wrong," cried the count, no longer able to +keep in his anger. + +"I do not say so." + +"You are mocking me," cried the count, growing very pale, "and +have been doing so for a quarter of an hour." + +"You are wrong, monsieur," said St. Luc, drawing out his watch, +and looking steadily at him; "it has been twenty minutes." + +"You insult me." + +"And you insult me with your questions like a constable." + +"Ah! now I see clearly." + +"How wonderful, at ten o'clock in the morning. But what do you +see?" + +"I see that you act in concert with the traitor, the coward, whom +I saw yesterday." + +"I should think so; he is my friend." + +"Then I will kill you in his place." + +"Bah! in your own house, and without crying, gare. Ah! M. de +Monsoreau, how badly you have been brought up, and how living +among beasts spoils the manners." + +"Do you not see that I am furious?" howled the count. + +"Yes, indeed, I do see it, and it does not become you at all; +you look frightful." + +The count drew his sword. + +"Ah!" said St. Luc, "you try to provoke me; you see I am perfectly +calm." + +"Yes, I do provoke you." + +"Take the trouble to get over the wall; on the other side we shall +be on neutral ground." + +"What do I care!" + +"I do; I do not want to kill you in your own house." + +"Very well!" said Monsoreau, climbing over. + +"Take care; pray do not hurt yourself, my dear count; those stones +are loose," said St. Luc. Then he also got over. + + + + +CHAPTER LXV. + +HOW M. DE ST. LUC SHOWED M. DE MONSOREAU THE THRUST THAT THE KING +HAD TAUGHT HIM. + +"Are you ready?" cried Monsoreau. + +"No; I have the sun in my eyes." + +"Move then; I warn you I shall kill you." + +"Shall you really? Well, man proposes, and God disposes. Look +at that bed of poppies and dandelions." + +"Well!" + +"Well, I mean to lay you there." And he laughed as he drew his +sword. Monsoreau began the combat furiously, but St. Luc parried +his thrusts skilfully. + +"Pardieu! M. de Monsoreau," said he, "you use your sword very +well; you might kill any one but Bussy or me." + +Monsoreau grew pale. + +"As for me," continued St. Luc, "the king, who loves me, took +the trouble to give me a great many lessons, and showed me, among +other things, a thrust, which you shall see presently. I tell +you, that you may have the pleasure of knowing you are killed +by the king's method; it is very flattering." And then suddenly +he rushed furiously on Monsoreau, who, half wild with rage as +he was, parried five thrusts, but received the sixth full in +his chest. + +"Ah!" said St. Luc, "you will fall just where I told you," as +Monsoreau sank down on the poppies. Then, wiping his sword, he +stood quietly by, watching the changes which came over the face +of the dying man. + +"Ah, you have killed me!" cried Monsoreau. + +"I intended to do so, but now I see you dying, devil take me if +I am not sorry for what I have done. You are horribly jealous, +it is true, but you were brave. Have you any last wish? If so, +tell it to me; and, on the faith of a gentleman, it shall be +executed. Are you thirsty? Shall I get you water?" + +Monsoreau did not reply. He turned over with his face to the +earth, biting the ground, and struggling in his blood. Then he +tried to raise his head, but fell back with a groan. + +"Come, he is dead; let me think no more about him. Ah! but that +is not so easy, when you have killed a man." And jumping back +over the wall, he went to the chateau. The first person he saw +was Diana talking to his wife. + +"How well she will look in black," thought he. Then, approaching +them, "Pardon me," said he, "but may I say a few words to Jeanne?" + +"Do so; I will go to my father," + +"What is it?" said Jeanne, when Diana was gone; "you look rather +gloomy." + +"Why, yes." + +"What has happened?" + +"Oh, mon Dieu! an accident." + +"To you?" + +"Not precisely to me, but to a person who was near me." + +"Who was it?" + +"The person I was walking with." + +"M. de Monsoreau?" + +"Alas! yes; poor dear man." + +"What has happened to him?" + +"I believe he is dead." + +"Dead!" cried Jeanne, starting back in horror. + +"Just so." + +"He who was here just now talking----" + +"Yes, that is just the cause of his death; he talked too much." + +"St. Luc, you are hiding something from me!" cried Jeanne, seizing +his hands. + +"I! Nothing; not even the place where he lies." + +"Where is it?" + +"Down there behind the wall; just where Bussy used to tie his +horse." + +"It was you who killed him." + +"Parbleu! that is not very difficult to discover." + +"Unlucky that you are!" + +"Ah, dear friend! he provoked me, insulted me, drew the sword +first." + +"It is dreadful! the poor man!" + +"Good; I was sure of it; before a week is over he will be called +St. Monsoreau." + +"But you cannot stay here in the house of the man you have killed." + +"So I thought at once, and that is why I came to ask you to get +ready." + +"He has not wounded you?" + +"No, I am perfectly unhurt." + +"Then, we will go." + +"As quickly as possible, for you know the accident may be discovered +at any moment." + +"Then Diana is a widow." + +"That is just what I thought of." + +"After you killed him?" + +"No, before." + +"Well, I will go and tell her." + +"Spare her feelings." + +"Do not laugh. Meanwhile you get the horses saddled. But where +shall we go?" + +"To Paris." + +"But the king?" + +"Oh! he will have forgotten everything by this time; besides, +if there is to be war, as seems probable, he will be glad of +me. But I must have pen and ink." + +"For what?" + +"To write to Bussy; I cannot leave Anjou without telling him why." + +"No, of course not; you will find all that you require in my room." +St. Luc went in, and wrote,-- + + +"DEAR FRIEND, + +"You will learn, by report, ere long, the accident which has +happened to M. de Monsoreau; we had together, by the old copse, +a discussion on broken-down walls and horses that go home alone. +In the heat of the argument, he fell on a bed of poppies and +dandelions so hard that he died there. + +"Your friend for life, + +"St. Luc. + +"P. S. As you may think this rather improbable, I must add that +we had our swords in our hands. I set off at once for Paris to +make peace with the king, Anjou not seeming to me very safe after +what has occurred." + + +Ten minutes after a servant set off for Angers with this letter, +while M. and Madame de St. Luc went out by another door, leaving +Diana much grieved at their departure, and much embarrassed how +to tell the baron what had occurred. She had turned away her +eyes from St. Luc as he passed. + +"That is the reward for serving your friends," said he to his +wife; "decidedly all people are ungrateful excepting me." + + + + +CHAPTER LXVI. + +IN WHICH WE SEE THE QUEEN-MOTHER ENTER THE TOWN OF ANGERS, BUT +NOT TRIUMPHANTLY. + +At the same time that M. de Monsoreau fell under the sword of +St. Luc, a flourish of trumpets sounded at the closed gates of +Angers. It was Catherine de Medicis, who arrived there with rather +a large suite. They sent to tell Bussy, who rose from his bed, +and went to the prince, who immediately got into his. Certainly +the airs played by the trumpets were fine, but they had not the +virtue of those which made the walls of Jericho fall, for the +gates did not open. Catherine leaned out of her litter to show +herself to the guards, hoping the sight of her would do more +than the sound of the trumpets. They saw her, and saluted her +courteously, but did not open the gates. Then she sent a gentleman +to demand admittance, but they replied that Angers being in a +state of war, the gates could not be opened without some necessary +formalities. Catherine was furious. At last Bussy appeared, with +five other gentlemen. + +"Who is there?" cried he. + +"It is her majesty the queen mother, who has come to visit Angers." + +"Very well, go to the left, and about eighty steps off you will +find the postern." + +"A postern for her majesty!" cried the gentleman. But Bussy was +no longer there to hear, he and his friends had ridden off towards +the indicated spot. + +"Did your majesty hear?" asked the gentleman. + +"Oh! yes, monsieur, I heard; let us go there, if that be the only +way to get in." + +The cortege turned to the left, and the postern opened. + +"Your majesty is welcome to Angers," said Bussy. + +"Thank you, M. de Bussy," said the queen, descending from her +litter, and advancing towards the little door. Bussy stopped +her. "Take care, madame," said he, "the door is low, and you will +hurt yourself." + +"Must I then stoop?" replied she; "it is the first time I ever +entered a city so." + +Once through the gate she re-entered her litter to go to the palace, +Bussy and his friends escorting her. + +"Where is my son?" cried she; "why do I not see M. d'Anjou?" + +"Monseigneur is ill, madame, or else your majesty cannot doubt +that he would have come himself to do the honors of his city." + +Catherine was sublime in hypocrisy. + +"Ill--my poor child, ill!" cried she; "ah! let us hasten to him; +is he well taken care of?" + +"Yes, madame, we do our best." + +"Does he suffer?" + +"Horribly, he is subject to these sudden indispositions." + +"It was sudden, then?" + +"Mon Dieu! yes, madame." + +When they arrived at the palace, Bussy ran up first to the duke. + +"Here she is!" cried he. + +"Is she furious?" + +"Exasperated." + +"Does she complain?" + +"No, she does worse, she smiles." + +"What do the people say?" + +"They looked at her in mute terror; now, monseigneur, be careful." + +"We stick to war?" + +"Pardieu, ask one hundred to get ten, and with her you will only +get five." + +"Bah! you think me very weak. Are you all here? Where is Monsoreau?" + +"I believe he is at Meridor." + +"Her majesty the queen mother!" cried the usher at the door. + +Catherine entered, looking pale. The duke made a movement to +rise, but she threw herself into his arms and half stifled him +with kisses. She did more--she wept. + +"We must take care," said Antragues to Ribeirac, "each tear will +be paid for by blood." + +Catherine now sat down on the foot of the bed. At a sign from +Bussy everyone went away but himself. + +"Will you not go and look after my poor attendants, M. de Bussy? +you who are at home here," said the queen. + +It was impossible not to go, so he replied, "I am happy to please +your majesty," and he also retired. + +Catherine wished to discover whether her son were really ill or +feigning. But he, worthy son of such a mother, played his part +to perfection. She had wept, he had a fever. Catherine, deceived, +thought him really ill, and hoped to have more influence over a +mind weakened by suffering. She overwhelmed him with tenderness, +embraced him, and wept so much that at last he asked her the +reason. + +"You have run so great a risk," replied she. + +"In escaping from the Louvre, mother?" + +"No, after." + +"How so?" + +"Those who aided you in this unlucky escape----" + +"Well?" + +"Were your most cruel enemies." + +"She wishes to find out who it was," thought he. + +"The King of Navarre," continued she, "the eternal scourge of +our race----" + +"Ah! she knows." + +"He boasts of having gained much by it." + +"That is impossible, for he had nothing to do with it; and if +he had, I am quite safe, as you see. I have not seen the King +of Navarre for two years." + +"It was not only of danger I spoke!" + +"Of what, then?" replied the duke, smiling, as he saw the tapestry +shake behind the queen. + +"The king's anger," said she, in a solemn voice; "the furious +anger which menaces you----" + +"This danger is something like the other, madame; he may be furious, +but I am safe here." + +"You believe so?" + +"I am sure of it; your majesty has announced it to me yourself." + +"How so?" + +"Because if you had been charged only with menaces, you would +not have come, and the king in that case would have hesitated +to place such a hostage in my hands." + +"A hostage! I!" cried she, terrified. + +"A most sacred and venerable one," replied the duke, with a +triumphant glance at the wall. + +Catherine was baffled, but she did not know that Bussy was +encouraging the duke by signs. + +"My son," said she at length, "you are quite right; they are words +of peace I bring to you." + +"I listen, mother, and I think we shall now begin to understand +each other." + + + + +CHAPTER LXVII. + +LITTLE CAUSES AND GREAT EFFECTS. + +Catherine had, as we have seen, had the worst of the argument. +She was surprised, and began to wonder if her son were really +as decided as he appeared to be, when a slight event changed +the aspect of affairs. Bussy had been, as we said, encouraging +the prince secretly at every word that he thought dangerous to +his cause. Now his cause was war at any price, for he wished to +stay in Anjou, watch M. de Monsoreau, and visit his wife. The +duke feared Bussy, and was guided by him. Suddenly, however, +Bussy felt himself pulled by his cloak; he turned and saw Remy, +who drew him gently towards him. + +"What is it, Remy?" said he impatiently. "Why disturb me at such +a moment?" + +"A letter." + +"And for a letter you take me from this important conversation." + +"It is from Meridor." + +"Oh! thank you, my good Remy." + +"Then I was not wrong?" + +"Oh, no; where is it?" + +"That is what made me think it of importance; the messenger would +only give it to you yourself." + +"Is he here?" + +"Yes." + +"Bring him in." + +Remy opened the door, and a servant entered. + +"Here is M. de Bussy," said Remy. + +"Oh, I know him well," said the man, giving the letter. + +"Did she give it to you?" + +"No; M. de St. Luc." + +As Bussy read, he grew first pale, then crimson. Remy dismissed +the servant, and Bussy, with a bewildered look, held out the +letter to him. + +"See," said he, "what St. Luc has done for me." + +"Well," said Remy, "this appears to me to be very good and St. +Luc is a gallant fellow." + +"It is incredible!" cried Bussy. + +"Certainly; but that is nothing. Here is our position quite changed; +I shall have a Comtesse de Bussy for a patient." + +"Yes, she shall be my wife. So he is dead." + +"So, you see, it is written." + +"Oh, it seems like a dream, Remy. What! shall I see no more that +specter, always coming between me and happiness? It cannot be +true." + +"It is true; read again, 'he died there.'" + +"But Diana cannot stay at Meridor--I do not wish it; she must +go where she will forget him." + +"Paris will be best; people soon forget at Paris." + +"You are right; we will return to the little house in the Rue +des Tournelles, and she shall pass there her months of widowhood +in obscurity." + +"But to go to Paris you must have----" + +"What?" + +"Peace in Anjou." + +"True; oh, mon Dieu! what time lost." + +"That means that you are going at once to Meridor." + +"No, not I, but you; I must stay here; besides, she might not +like my presence just now." + +"How shall I see her? Shall I go to the castle?" + +"No; go first to the old copse and see if she is there; if she +is not then go to the castle." + +"What shall I say to her?" + +"Say that I am half mad." And pressing the young man's hand, he +returned to his place behind the tapes try. + +Catherine had been trying to regain her ground. + +"My son," she had said, "it seemed to me that a mother and son +could not fail to understand each other." + +"Yet you see that happens sometimes." + +"Never when she wishes it." + +"When they wish it, you mean," said the duke, seeking a sign of +approbation from Bussy for his boldness. + +"But I wish it, my son, and am willing to make any sacrifices +to attain peace." + +"Oh!" + +"Yes, my dear child. What do you ask?--what do you demand? Speak." + +"Oh, my mother!" said Francois, almost embarrassed at his own +easy victory. + +"Listen, my son. You do not wish to drown the kingdom in blood--it +is not possible; you are neither a bad Frenchman nor a bad brother." + +"My brother insulted me, madame, and I owe him nothing, either +as my brother or king." + +"But I, Francois--you cannot complain of me?" + +"Yes, madame, you abandoned me." + +"Ah! you wish to kill me. Well, a mother does not care to live +to see her children murder each other!" cried Catherine, who +wished very much to live. + +"Oh, do not say that, madame, you tear my heart!" cried Francois, +whose heart was not torn at all. + +Catherine burst into tears. The duke took her hands, and tried +to reassure her, not without uneasy glances towards the tapestry. + +"But what do you want or ask for, mother? I will listen," said +he. + +"I wish you to return to Paris, dear child, to return to your +brother's court, who will receive you with open arms." + +"No, madame, it is not he whose arms are open to receive me--it +is the Bastile." + +"No; return, and on my honor, on my love as a mother, I solemnly +swear that you shall be received by the king as though you were +king and he the Duc d'Anjou." + +The duke looked to the tapestry. + +"Accept, my son; you will have honors, guards." + +"Oh, madame, your son gave me guards--his four minions!" + +"Do not reply so; you shall choose your own guards, and M. de. +Bussy shall be their captain, if you like." + +Again the duke glanced to the wall, and, to his surprise, saw +Bussy smiling and applauding by every possible method. + +"What is the meaning of this change?" thought the duke; "is it +that he may be captain of my guards? Then must I accept?" said +he aloud, as though talking to himself. + +"Yes, yes!" signed Bussy, with head and hands. + +"Quit Anjou, and return to Paris?" + +"Yes!" signed Bussy, more decidedly than ever. + +"Doubtless, dear child," said Catherine, "it is not disagreeable +to return to Paris." + +"Well, I will reflect," said the duke, who wished to consult with +Bussy. + +"I have won," thought Catherine. + +They embraced once more, and separated. + + + + +CHAPTER LXVIII. + +HOW M. DE MONSOREAU OPENED AND SHUT HIS EYES, WHICH PROVED THAT +HE WAS NOT DEAD. + +Remy rode along, wondering in what humor he should find Diana, +and what he should say to her. He had just arrived at the park +wall, when his horse, which had been trotting, stopped so suddenly +that, had he not been a good rider, he would have been thrown +over his head. Remy, astonished, looked to see the cause, and +saw before him a pool of blood, and a little further on, a body, +lying against the wall. "It is Monsoreau!" cried he; "how strange! +he lies dead there, and the blood is down here. Ah! there is +the track; he must have crawled there, or rather that good M. +de St. Luc leaned him up against the wall that the blood might +not fly to his head. He died with his eyes open, too." + +All at once Remy started back in horror; the two eyes, that he +had seen open, shut again, and a paleness more livid than ever +spread itself over the face of the defunct. Remy became almost +as pale as M. de Monsoreau, but, as he was a doctor, he quickly +recovered his presence of mind, and said to himself that if Monsoreau +moved his eyes, it showed he was not dead. "And yet I have read," +thought he, "of strange movements after death. This devil of a +fellow frightens one even after death. Yes, his eyes are quite +closed; there is one method of ascertaining whether he is dead +or not, and that is to shove my sword into him, and if he does +not move, he is certainly dead." And Remy was preparing for this +charitable action, when suddenly the eyes opened again. Remy +started back, and the perspiration rolled off his forehead as +he murmured, "He is not dead; we are in a nice position. Yes, +but if I kill him he will be dead." And he looked at Monsoreau, +who seemed also to be looking at him earnestly. + +"Oh!" cried Remy, "I cannot do it. God knows that if he were +upright before me I would kill him with all my heart; but as he +is now, helpless and three parts dead, it would be an infamy." + +"Help!" murmured Monsoreau, "I am dying." + +"Mordieu!" thought Remy, "my position is embarrassing. I am a +doctor, and, as such, bound to succor my fellow-creatures when +they suffer. It is true that Monsoreau is so ugly that he can +scarcely be called a fellow-creature, still he is a man. Come, +I must forget that I am the friend of M. de Bussy, and do my +duty as a doctor." + +"Help!" repeated the wounded man. + +"Here I am," said Remy. + +"Fetch me a priest and a doctor." + +"The doctor is here, and perhaps he will dispense with the priest." + +"Remy," said Monsoreau, "by what chance--" + +Remy understood all the question might mean. This was no beaten +road, and no one was likely to come without particular business. + +"Pardieu!" he replied, "a mile or two off I met M. de St. Luc----" + +"Ah! my murderer." + +"And he said, 'Remy, go to the old copse, there you will find +a man dead.'" + +"Dead?" + +"Yes, he thought so; well, I came here and saw you." + +"And now, tell me frankly, am I mortally wounded?" + +"I will try to find out." + +Remy approached him carefully, took off his cloak, his doublet +and shirt. The sword had penetrated between the sixth and seventh +ribs. + +"Do you suffer much?" + +"In my back, not in my chest." + +"Ah, let me see; where?" + +"Below the shoulder bone." + +"The steel must have come against a bone." And he began to examine. +"No, I am wrong," said he, "the sword came against nothing, but +passed right through." Monsoreau fainted after this examination. + +"Ah! that is all right," said Remy, "syncope, low pulse, cold in +the hands and legs: Diable! the widowhood of Madame de Monsoreau +will not last long, I fear." + +At this moment a slight bloody foam rose to the lips of the wounded +man. + +Remy drew from his pocket his lancet case; then tearing off a +strip from the patient's shirt, bound it round his arm. + +"We shall see," said he, "if the blood flows. Ah, it does! and +I believe that Madame de Monsoreau will not be a widow. Pardon, +my dear M. de Bussy, but I am a doctor." + +Presently the patient breathed, and opened his eyes. + +"Oh!" stammered he, "I thought all was over." + +"Not yet, my dear monsieur; it is even possible----" + +"That I live!" + +"Oh, mon Dieu! yes; but let me close the wound. Stop; do not +move; nature at this moment is aiding my work. I make the blood +flow, and she stops it. Ah! nature is a great doctor, my dear +sir. Let me wipe your lips. See the bleeding has stopped already. +Good; all goes well, or rather badly." + +"Badly!" + +"No, not for you; but I know what I mean." + +"You think I shall get well?" + +"Alas! yes." + +"You are a singular doctor, M. Remy." + +"Never mind, as long as I cure you," said he, rising. + +"Do not abandon me," said the count. + +"Ah! you talk too much. Diable! I ought to tell him to cry out." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Never mind; your wound is dressed. Now I will go to the castle +and fetch assistance." + +"And what must I do meanwhile?" + +"Keep quite still; do not stir; breathe lightly, and try not to +cough. Which is the nearest house?" + +"The chateau de Meridor." + +"Which is the way to it?" said Remy, affecting ignorance. + +"Get over the wall, and you will find yourself in the park." + +"Very well; I go." + +"Thanks, generous man." + +"Generous, indeed, if you only knew all." + +He soon arrived at the chateau, where all the inhabitants were +busy looking for the body of the count; for St. Luc had given +them a wrong direction. Remy came among them like a thunderbolt, +and was so eager to bring them to the rescue, that Diana looked +at him with surprise, "I thought he was Bussy's friend," murmured +she, as Remy disappeared, carrying with him a wheelbarrow, lint +and water. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIX. + +HOW M. LE DUC D'ANJOU WENT TO MERIDOR TO CONGRATULATE MADAME +DE MONSOREAU ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND, AND FOUND HIM THERE +BEFORE HIM. + +As soon as the duke left his mother, he hastened to Bussy to know +the meaning of all his signs. Bussy, who was reading St. Luc's +letter for the fifth time, received the prince with a gracious +smile. + +"How! monseigneur takes the trouble to come to my house to seek +me." + +"Yes mordieu, I want an explanation." + +"From me?" + +"Yes, from you." + +"I listen, monseigneur." + +"You tell me to steel myself against the suggestions of my mother, +and to sustain the attack valiantly. I do so; and in the hottest +of the fight you tell me to surrender." + +"I gave you all those charges, monseigneur, because I was ignorant +of the object for which your mother came; but now that I see that +she has come to promote your highness's honor and glory----" + +"How! what do you mean?" + +"Doubtless: what does your highness want? To triumph over your +enemies, do you not? For I do not believe, as some people say, +that you wish to become King of France." + +The duke looked sullen. + +"Some might counsel you to it, but believe me they are your most +cruel enemies. Consider for yourself, monseigneur; have you one +hundred thousand men--ten millions of livres--alliance with +foreigners--and, above all, would you turn against your king?" + +"My king did not hesitate to turn against me." + +"Ah! there you are right. Well! declare yourself--get crowned--take +the title of King of France--and if you succeed, I ask no better; +I should grow great with you." + +"Who speaks of being king?" cried the duke, angrily; "you discuss +a question which I have never proposed, even to myself." + +"Well, then, that is settled. Let them give you a guard and five +hundred thousand livres. Obtain, before peace is signed, a subsidy +from Anjou, to carry on the war. Once you have it, you can keep +it. So, we should have arms and money, and we could do----God +knows what." + +"But once they have me at Paris, they will laugh at me." + +"Oh! impossible, monseigneur; did you not hear what the queen +mother offered you?" + +"She offered me many things." + +"That disquiets you?" + +"Yes." + +"But, among other things, she offered you a company of guards, +even if I commanded it." + +"Yes, she offered that." + +"Well, accept; I will be captain; Antragues and Livarot lieutenants; +and Ribeirac ensign. Let us get up your company for you, and see +if they dare to laugh at you then." + +"Ma foi! I believe you are right, Bussy; I will think of it." + +"Do so, monseigneur." + +"What were you reading so attentively when I came in?" + +"Oh! a letter, which interests you still more than me. Where the +devil were my brains, that I did not show it to you?" + +"What is it?" + +"Sad news, monseigneur; Monsoreau is dead." + +"What!" cried the duke, with a surprise which Bussy thought was +a joyful one. + +"Dead, monseigneur." + +"M. de Monsoreau!" + +"Mon Dieu! yes; are we not all mortal?" + +"Yes; but so suddenly." + +"Ah! but if you are killed?" + +"Then, he was killed?" + +"So it seems; and by St. Luc, with whom he quarreled." + +"Oh, that dear St. Luc!" + +"I did not think he was one of your highness's friends." + +"Oh, he is my brother's, and, since we are to be reconciled, his +friends are mine. But are you sure?" + +"As sure as I can be. Here is a letter from St. Luc, announcing +it; and I have sent Remy, my doctor, to present my condolences +to the old baron." + +"Oh, Monsoreau!" cried the prince, with his malignant smile. + +"Why monseigneur, one would say you hated the poor count." + +"No, it was you." + +"Of course I did; did he not humiliate me through you?" + +"You remember it still." + +"But you, monseigneur, whose friend and tool he was----" + +"Well, well, get my horse saddled, Bussy." + +"What for?" + +"To go to Meridor; I wish to pay a visit to Madame Monsoreau. +I have been projecting one for some time, and I do not know why +it has not taken place sooner." + +"Now Monsoreau is dead," thought Bussy, "I do not care; I will +protect Diana. I will go with him, and see her." + +A quarter of an hour after, the prince, Bussy, and ten gentlemen +rode to Meridor, with that pleasure which fine weather, turf, +and youth always inspire in men on horseback. + +The porter at the chateau came to ask the names of the visitors. + +"The Duc d'Anjou," replied the prince. + +The porter blew his horn, and soon windows were opened, and they +heard the noise of bolts and bars as the door was unfastened, +and the old baron appeared on the threshold, holding in his hand +a bunch of keys. Immediately behind him stood a lady. + +"Ah, there is the beautiful Diana!" cried the duke; "do you see +her, Bussy?" + +Diana, indeed, came out of the house, and behind her came a litter, +on which lay Monsoreau, his eyes shining with fever and jealousy +as he was carried along. + +"What does this mean?" cried the duke to his companion, who had +turned whiter than the handkerchief with which he was trying +to hide his emotion. + +"Long live the Duc d'Anjou!" cried Monsoreau, raising his hand +in the air by a violent effort. + +"Take care, you will hurt yourself," said a voice behind him. +It was Remy. + +Surprise does not last long at court, so, with a smile, the duke +said, "Oh, my dear count, what a happy surprise! Do you know +we heard you were dead?" + +"Come near, monseigneur, and let me kiss your hand. Thank God, +not only I am not dead, but I shall live; I hope to serve you +with more ardor than ever." + +As for Bussy, he felt stunned, and scarcely dared to look at +Diana. This treasure, twice lost to him, belonged still to his +rival. + +"And you, M. de Bussy," said Monsoreau, "receive my thanks, for +it is almost to you that I owe my life." + +"To me!" stammered the young man, who thought the count was mocking +him. + +"Yes, indirectly, it is true, for here is my saviour," said he, +turning to Remy, who would willingly have sunk into the earth. +Then, in spite of his signs, which he took for precautions to +himself, he recounted the care and skill which the young doctor +had exhibited towards him. + +The duke frowned, and Bussy looked thunders. The poor fellow raised +his hands to heaven. + +"I hear," continued the count, "that Remy one day found you dying, +as he found me. It is a tie of friendship between us, M. de Bussy, +and when Monsoreau loves, he loves well; it is true that when +he hates, it is also with all his heart." + +"Come, then," said the duke, getting off his horse, "deign, beautiful +Diana, to do us the honors of the house, which we thought to find +in grief, but which we find still the abode of joy. As for you, +Monsoreau, rest--you require it." + +"Monseigneur!" said the count, "it shall never be said that +Monsoreau, while he lived, allowed another to do the honors of +his house to you; my servants will carry me, and wherever you +go, I shall follow." + +Bussy approached Diana, and Monsoreau smiled; he took her hand, +and he smiled again. It was only the duke he feared. + +"Here is a great change, M. le Comte," said Diana. + +"Alas! why is it not greater!" + + + + +CHAPTER LXX. + +THE INCONVENIENCE OF LARGE LITTERS AND NARROW DOORS. + +Bussy did not quit Diana; the smiles of Monsoreau gave him a liberty +which he was only too glad to make use of. + +"Madame," said he to Diana, "I am in truth the most miserable +of men. On the news of his death, I advised the prince to return +to Paris, and to come to terms with his mother; he did so, and +now you remain in Anjou." + +"Oh, Louis," replied she, "we dare not say that we are unhappy; +so many happy days, so many joys--do you forget them all?" + +"I forget nothing, madame; on the contrary, I remember but too +much, and that is why I suffer as I do at losing this happiness. +What shall I do if I return to Paris, a hundred leagues from +you? My heart sinks at the thought, Diana." + +Diana looked at him, and saw so much grief in his eyes, that she +said, "Well, if you go to Paris, I will go also." + +"How! will you quit M. de Monsoreau?" + +"No, he would not allow me to do so; he must come with us." + +"Wounded, ill as he is? Impossible!" + +"He will come, I tell you." And, leaving Bussy, she went to the +prince. The count frowned dreadfully. + +"Monseigneur," said she, "they say your highness is fond of flowers; +if you will come with me, I will show you the most beautiful in +Anjou." + +The duke offered her his hand. + +"Where are you about to take monseigneur?" asked Monsoreau uneasily. + +"Into the greenhouse." + +"Ah! well, carry me there." + +"Ma foi!" thought Remy, "I was right not to kill him, for he +will soon kill himself." + +Diana smiled on Bussy, and said to him, in a low voice, "Do not +let M. de Monsoreau suspect that you are about to leave Anjou, +and I will manage all." + +"Good!" said Bussy, and approaching the prince, he whispered, +"Do not let Monsoreau know that we intend to make peace." + +"Why not?" + +"Because he might tell the queen-mother, to make a friend of her." + +"You suspect him, then?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"Well, so do I; I believe he only counterfeited death to deceive +us." + +"No, he really received a sword-thrust through his body, and +but for that fool of a Remy, he would have died; I believe his +soul must be glued to his body." + +They arrived at the conservatory, and Diana continued to smile +charmingly on the prince. He passed first, then Diana, and Monsoreau +wished to follow, but it was impossible. His litter was too large +to go through the door. At this sight he uttered a groan. Diana +went on quietly, without looking at him, but Bussy, who understood +her, said to him: + +"It is useless to try, M. le Comte, your litter will not pass." + +"Monseigneur!" cried Monsoreau, "do not go into that conservatory, +some of the flowers exhale dangerous perfumes." + +Then he fainted, and was carried to his room. + +Bussy went to tell Diana what had happened, and she left the duke +to go to the castle. + +"Have we succeeded?" said Bussy to her as she passed. + +"I hope so; do not go away without having seen Gertrude." + +When Monsoreau opened his eyes again, he saw Diana standing at +his bedside. + +"Ah! it is you, madame," said he, "to-night we leave for Paris." + +Remy cried out in horror, but Monsoreau paid no attention. + +"Can you think of such a thing, with your wound?" said Diana, +quietly. + +"Madame, I would rather die than suffer, and were I to die on +the road, we start to-night." + +"As you please, monsieur." + +"Then make your preparations." + +"My preparations are soon made, but may I ask the reason of this +sudden determination?" + +"I will tell you, madame, when you have no more flowers to show to +the prince, and when my doors are large enough to admit litters." + +Diana bowed. + +"But, madame----" said Remy. + +"M. le Comte wishes it," replied she, "and my duty is to obey." +And she left the room. + +As the duke was making his adieux to the Baron de Meridor, Gertrude +appeared, and said aloud to the duke that her mistress regretted that +she could not have the honor of saying farewell to his highness; and +softly to Bussy that Diana would set off for Paris that evening. +As they went home again, the duke felt unwilling to leave Anjou +now that Diana smiled on him. Therefore he said, "I have been +reflecting, Bussy," said he. + +"On what, monseigneur?" + +"That it is not wise to give in at once to my mother." + +"You are right, she thinks herself clever enough without that." + +"But by dragging it on for a week, and giving fetes, and calling +the liability around us, she will see how strong we are." + +"Well reasoned, but still----" + +"I will stay here a week; depend upon it I shall draw new concessions +from the queen." + +Bussy appeared to reflect. "Well, monseigneur," said he, "perhaps +you are right, but the king, not knowing your intentions, may +become annoyed; he is very irascible." + +"You are right, but I shall send some one to the king to announce +my return in a week." + +"Yes, but that some one will run great risks." + +"If I change my mind, you mean." + +"Yes, and in spite of your promise, you would do so if you thought +it your interest." + +"Perhaps." + +"Then they will send your messenger to the Bastile." + +"I will give him a letter, and not let him know what he is carrying." + +"On the contrary, give him no letter, and let him know." + +"Then no one will go." + +"Oh! I know some one." + +"Who?" + +"I, myself." + +"You!" + +"Yes, I like difficult negotiations." + +"Bussy, my dear Bussy, if you will do that, I shall be eternally +grateful." + +Bussy smiled. The duke thought he hesitated. + +"And I will give you ten thousand crowns for your journey," added +he. + +"Thanks, monseigneur, but these things cannot be paid for." + +"Then you will go?" + +"Yes." + +"When?" + +"Whenever you like." + +"The sooner the better." + +"This evening if you wish it." + +"Dear Bussy." + +"You know I would do anything for your highness. I will go to-night; +you stay here and enjoy yourself, and get me something good from +the queen-mother." + +"I will not forget." + +Bussy then prepared to depart as soon as the signal arrived from +Meridor. It did not come till the next morning, for the count had +felt himself so feeble that he had been forced to take a night's +rest. But early in the morning a messenger came to announce to +Bussy that the count had set off for Paris in a litter, followed +on horseback by Remy, Diana, and Gertrude. Bussy jumped on his +horse, and took the same road. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXI. + +WHAT TEMPER THE KING WAS IN WHEN ST. LUC REAPPEARED AT THE LOUVRE. + +Since the departure of Catherine, Henri, however, confident in +his ambassador, had thought only of arming himself against the +attacks of his brother. He amused, or rather ennuyed, himself by +drawing up long lists of proscriptions, in which were inscribed +in alphabetical order all who had not shown themselves zealous +for his cause. The lists became longer every day, and at the +S---- and the L----, that is to say, twice over, was inscribed +the name of M. de St. Luc. Chicot, in the midst of all this, +was, little by little, and man by man, enrolling an army for +his master. One evening Chicot entered the room where the king +sat at supper. + +"What is it?" asked the king. + +"M. de St. Luc." + +"M. de St. Luc?" + +"Yes." + +"At Paris?" + +"Yes." + +"At the Louvre?" + +"Yes." + +The king rose, red and agitated. + +"What has he come for? The traitor!" + +"Who knows?" + +"He comes, I am sure, as deputy from the states of Anjou--as an +envoy from my rebellious brother. He makes use of the rebellion +as a safe conduct to come here and insult me." + +"Who knows?" + +"Or perhaps he comes to ask me for his property, of which I have +kept back the revenues, which may have been rather an abuse of +power, as, after all, he has committed no crime." + +"Who knows?" + +"Ah, you repeat eternally the same thing; mort de ma vie! you +tire my patience out with your eternal 'Who knows?'" + +"Eh! mordieu! do you think you are very amusing with your eternal +questions?" + +"At least you might reply something." + +"And what should I reply? Do you take me for an ancient oracle? +It is you who are tiresome with your foolish suppositions." + +"M. Chicot?" + +"M. Henri." + +"Chicot, my friend, you see my grief and you laugh at me." + +"Do not have any grief." + +"But everyone betrays me." + +"Who knows? Ventre de biche! who knows?" + +Henri went down to his cabinet, where, at the news of his return, +a number of gentlemen had assembled, who were looking at St. +Luc with evident distrust and animosity. He, however, seemed +quite unmoved by this. He had brought his wife with him also, +and she was seated, wrapped in her traveling-cloak, when the +king entered in an excited state. + +"Ah, monsieur, you here!" he cried. + +"Yes, sire," replied St. Luc. + +"Really, your presence at the Louvre surprises me." + +"Sire, I am only surprised that, under the circumstances, your +majesty did not expect me." + +"What do you mean, monsieur?" + +"Sire, your majesty is in danger." + +"Danger!" cried the courtiers. + +"Yes, gentlemen, a real, serious danger, in which the king has +need of the smallest as well as the greatest of those devoted +to him; therefore I come to lay at his feet my humble services." + +"Ah!" said Chicot, "you see, my son, that I was right to say, +'who knows.'" + +Henri did not reply at once; he would not yield immediately. +After a pause, he said, "Monsieur, you have only done your duty; +your services are due to us." + +"The services of all the king's subjects are due to him, I know, +sire; but in these times many people forget to pay their debts. +I, sire, come to pay mine, happy that your majesty will receive +me among the number of your creditors." + +"Then," said Henri, in a softer tone, "you return without any +other motive than that which you state; without any mission, +or safe-conduct?" + +"Sire, I return simply and purely for that reason. Now, your +majesty may throw me into the Bastile, or have me shot, but I +shall have done my duty. Sire, Anjou is on fire; Touraine is +about to revolt; Guienne is rising. M. le Duc d'Anjou is hard +at work." + +"He is well supported, is he not?" + +"Sire, M. de Bussy, firm as he is, cannot make your brother brave." + +"Ah! he trembles, then, the rebel." + +"Let me go and shake St. Luc's hand," said Chicot, advancing. + +The king followed him, and going up to his old favorite, and laying +his hand on his shoulder, said,-- + +"You are welcome, St. Luc!" + +"Ah! sire," cried St. Luc, kissing the king's hand, "I find again +my beloved master." + +"Yes, but you, my poor St. Luc, you have grown thin." + +"It is with grief at having displeased your majesty," said a +feminine voice. Now, although the voice was soft and respectful, +Henri frowned, for it was as distasteful to him as the noise +of thunder was to Augustus. + +"Madame de St. Luc!" said he. "Ah! I forgot." + +Jeanne threw herself at his feet. + +"Rise, madame," said he, "I love all that bear the name of St. +Luc." Jeanne took his hand and kissed it, but he withdrew it +quickly. + +"You must convert the king," said Chicot to the young woman, "you +are pretty enough for it." + +But Henri turned his back to her, and passing his arm round St. +Luc's neck, said,-- + +"Then we have made peace, St. Luc?" + +"Say rather, sire, that the pardon is granted." + +"Madame!" said Chicot, "a good wife should not leave her husband," +and he pushed her after the king and St. Luc. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXII. + +IN WHICH WE MEET TWO IMPORTANT PERSONAGES WHOM WE HAVE LOST SIGHT +OF FOR SOME TIME. + +There are two of the personages mentioned in this story, about +whom the reader has the right to ask for information. We mean an +enormous monk, with thick eyebrows and large lips, whose neck was +diminishing every day; and a large donkey whose sides were gradually +swelling out like a balloon. The monk resembled a hogshead; and +the ass was like a child's cradle, supported by four posts. + +The one inhabited a cell at St. Genevieve, and the other the +stable at the same convent. The one was called Gorenflot, and +the other Panurge. Both were enjoying the most prosperous lot +that ever fell to a monk and an ass. + +The monks surrounded their illustrious brother with cares and +attentions, and Panurge fared well for his master's sake. + +If a missionary arrived from foreign countries, or a secret legate +from the Pope, they pointed out to him Brother Gorenflot, that +double model of the church preaching and militant; they showed +Gorenflot in all his glory, that is to say, in the midst of a +feast, seated at a table in which a hollow had been cut on purpose +for his sacred stomach, and they related with a noble pride that +Gorenflot consumed the rations of eight ordinary monks. And when +the newcomer had piously contemplated this spectacle, the prior +would say, "See how he eats! And if you had but heard his sermon +one famous night, in which he offered to devote himself for the +triumph of the faith. It is a mouth which speaks like that of +St. Chrysostom, and swallows like that of Gargantua." + +Every time that any one spoke of the sermon, Gorenflot sighed +and said: + +"What a pity I did not write it! + +"A man like you has no need to write," the prior would reply. +"No, you speak from inspiration; you open your mouth, and the +words of God flow from your lips." + +"Do you think so?" sighed Gorenflot. + +However, Gorenflot was not perfectly happy. He, who at first +thought his banishment from the convent an immense misfortune, +discovered in his exile infinite joys before unknown to him. He +sighed for liberty; liberty with Chicot, the joyous companion, +with Chicot, whom he loved without knowing why. Since his return +to the convent, he had never been allowed to go out. He never +attempted to combat this decision, but he grew sadder from day +to day. The prior saw this, and at last said to him: + +"My dear brother, no one can fight against his vocation; yours +is to fight for the faith; go then, fulfil your mission, only +watch well over your precious life, and return for the great +day." + +"What great day?" + +"That of the Fete Dieu." + +"Ita," replied Gorenflot; it was the only Latin word he knew, +and used it on all occasions. "But give me some money to bestow +in alms in a Christian manner." + +"You have your text, have you not, dear brother?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"Confide it to me." + +"Willingly, but to you alone; it is this: 'The flail which threshes +the corn.'" + +"Oh, magnificent! sublime!" cried the prior. + +"Now, my father, am I free?" + +"Yes, my son, go and walk in the way of the Lord." + +Gorenflot saddled Panurge, mounted him with the aid of two vigorous +monks, and left the convent about seven in the evening. It was +the same day on which St. Luc arrived at Paris from Meridor. + +Gorenflot, having passed through the Rue St. Etienne, was going +to have turned to the right, when suddenly Panurge stopped; a +strong hand was laid on his croup. + +"Who is there?" cried Gorenflot, in terror. + +"A friend." + +Gorenflot tried to turn, but he could not. + +"What do you want?" said he. + +"Will my venerable brother show me the way to the Corne d'Abondance?" + +"Morbleu! it is M. Chicot," cried Gorenflot, joyfully. + +"Just so; I was going to seek you at the convent, when I saw +you come out, and followed you until we were alone. Ventre de +biche! how thin you are!" + +"But what are you carrying, M. Chicot?" said the monk, "you appear +laden." + +"It is some venison which I have stolen from the king." + +"Dear M. Chicot! and under the other arm?" + +"A bottle of Cyprus wine sent by a king to my king." + +"Let me see!" + +"It is my wine, and I love it much; do not you, brother?" + +"Oh! oh!" cried Gorenflot, raising his eyes and hands to Heaven, +and beginning to sing in a voice which shook the neighboring +windows. It was the first time he had sung for a month. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIII. + +DIANA'S SECOND JOURNEY TO PARIS. + +Let us leave the two friends entering the Corne d'Abondance, +and return to the litter of M. Monsoreau and to Bussy, who set +out with the intention of following them. Not only is it not +difficult for a cavalier well mounted to overtake foot travelers, +but it is difficult not to pass them. This happened to Bussy. + +It was the end of May, the heat was great, and about noon M. +de Monsoreau wished to make a halt in a little wood, which was +near the road, and as they had a horse laden with provisions, +they remained there until the great heat of the day had gone by. +During this time Bussy passed them, but he had not traveled, as +we may imagine, without inquiring if a party on horseback, and +a litter carried by peasants, had been seen. Until he had passed +the village of Durtal, he had obtained the most satisfactory +information, and, convinced that they were before him, had ridden +on quickly. But he could see nothing of them, and suddenly all +traces of them vanished, and on arriving at La Fleche he felt +certain he must have passed them on the road. Then he remembered +the little wood, and doubted not that they had been resting there +when he passed. He installed himself at a little inn, which had +the advantage of being opposite the principal hotel, where he +doubted not that Monsoreau would stop; and he remained at the +window watching. About four o'clock he saw a courier arrive, +and half an hour afterwards the whole party. He waited till nine +o'clock, and then he saw the courier set out again, and after +him the litter, then Diana, Remy, and Gertrude on horseback. +He mounted his horse and followed them, keeping them in sight. +Monsoreau scarcely allowed Diana to move from his side, but kept +calling her every instant. After a little while, Bussy gave a long, +shrill whistle, with which he had been in the habit of calling +his servants at his hotel. Remy recognized it in a moment. Diana +started, and looked at the young man, who made an affirmative +sign; then he came up to her and whispered: + +"It is he!" + +"Who is speaking to you, madame?" said Monsoreau. + +"To me, monsieur?" + +"Yes, I saw a shadow pass close to you, and heard a voice." + +"It is M. Remy; are you also jealous of him?" + +"No, but I like people to speak out, it amuses me." + +"There are some things which cannot be said aloud before M. le +Comte, however," said Gertrude, coming to the rescue. + +"Why not?" + +"For two reasons; firstly, because some would not interest you, +and some would interest you too much." + +"And of which kind is what M. Remy has just whispered?" + +"Of the latter." + +"What did Remy say to you, madame?" + +"I said, M. le Comte, that if you excite yourself so much, you +will be dead before we have gone a third of the way." + +Monsoreau grew deadly pale. + +"He is expecting you behind," whispered Remy, again, "ride slowly, +and he will overtake you." + +Monsoreau, who heard a murmur, tried to rise and look back after +Diana. + +"Another movement like that, M. le Comte, and you will bring on +the bleeding again," said Remy. + +Diana turned and rode back a little way, while Remy walked by +the litter to occupy the count. A few seconds after, Bussy was +by her side. + +"You see I follow you," said he, after their first embrace. + +"Oh! I shall be happy, if I know you are always so near to me." + +"But by day he will see us." + +"No; by day you can ride afar off; it is only I who will see +you, Louis. From the summit of some hill, at the turn of some +road, your plume waving, your handkerchief fluttering in the +breeze, would speak to me in your name, and tell me that you +love me." + +"Speak on, my beloved Diana; you do not know what music I find +in your voice." + +"And when we travel by night, which we shall often do, for Remy +has told him that the freshness of the evening is good for his +wounds, then, as this evening, from time to time, I will stay +behind, and we will tell each other, with a rapid pressure of +the hands, all our thoughts of each other during the day." + +"Oh! I love you! I love you!" murmured Bussy. "Oh! to see you, +to press your hand, Diana." + +Suddenly they heard a voice which made them both tremble, Diana +with fear, and Bussy with anger. + +"Diana!" it cried, "where are you? Answer me." + +"Oh! it is he! I had forgotten him," said Diana. "Sweet dream, +frightful awaking." + +"Listen, Diana; we are together. Say one word, and nothing can +separate us more; Diana, let us fly! What prevents us? Before +us is happiness and liberty. One word, and we go; one word, and +lost to him, you belong to me forever." + +"And my father?" + +"When he shall know how I love you?" + +"Oh! a father!" + +"I will do nothing by violence, dear Diana; order, and I obey." + +"It is our destiny, Bussy; but be strong, and you shall see if +I know how to love." + +"Must we then separate?" + +"Comtesse!" cried the voice, "reply, or, if I kill myself in doing +it, I will jump from this infernal litter." + +"Adieu, Bussy, he will do as he says." + +"You pity him?" + +"Jealous!" said Diana, with an adorable smile. + +Bussy let her go. + +In a minute she was by the litter, and found the count half fainting. + +"Ah!" cried he, "where were you, madame?" + +"Where should I have been? Behind you." + +"At my side, madame; do not leave me again." + +From time to time this scene was renewed. They all hoped he would +die with rage; but he did not die: on the contrary, at the end of +ten days, when they arrived at Paris, he was decidedly better. +During these ten days Diana had conquered all Bussy's pride, +and had persuaded him to come and visit Monsoreau, who always +showed him much friendship. Remy watched the husband and gave +notes to the wife. + +"Esculapius and Mercury," said he; "my functions accumulate." + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIV. + +HOW THE AMBASSADOR OF THE DUC D'ANJOU ARRIVED AT THE LOUVRE, AND +THE RECEPTION HE MET WITH. + +As neither Catherine nor the Duc d'Anjou reappeared at the Louvre, +the dissension between the brothers became apparently every day +more and more certain. The king thought, "No news, bad news." +The minions added, "Francois, badly counseled, has detained the +queen-mother." + +Badly counseled. In these words were comprised all the policy of +this singular reign, and the three preceding ones. Badly counseled +was Charles IX. when he authorized the massacre of St. Bartholomew. +Badly counseled was Francois II. when he ordered the massacre +at Amboise. Badly counseled had been Henri II. when he burned +so many heretics and conspirators. And now they dared not say, +"Your brother has the family blood in his veins; he wishes, like +the rest, to dethrone or poison; he would do to you what you +did to your elder brother; what your elder brother did to his, +what your mother has taught you to do to one another." Therefore +they said, "Your brother is badly counseled." + +Now, as only one person was able to counsel Francois, it was +against Bussy that the cry was raised, which became every day +more and more furious. At last the news was spread that the duke +had sent an ambassador. At this the king grew pale with anger, +and the minions swore that he should be cut to pieces, and a +piece sent to all the provinces of France as a specimen of the +king's anger. Chicot said nothing, but he reflected. Now the +king thought much of Chicot's reflections, and he questioned him +about them. + +"Sire," replied he, "if your brother sends an ambassador, it +is because he feels himself strong enough to do so; he who is +prudence itself. Now, if he is strong, we must temporize with him. +Let us respect his ambassador, and receive him with civility. That +engages you to nothing. Do you remember how your brother embraced +Admiral Coligny, who came as ambassador from the Huguenots?" + +"Then you approve of the policy of my brother Charles?" + +"Not so, but I cite a fact; and I say to you, do not hurt a poor +devil of a herald, or ambassador; perhaps we may find the way to +seize the master, the mover, the chief, the great Duc d'Anjou, +with the three Guises; and if you can shut them up in a place +safer than the Louvre, do it." + +"That is not so bad." + +"Then why do you let all your friends bellow so?" + +"Bellow!" + +"Yes; I would say, roar, if they could be taken for lions, but +they are more like bearded apes." + +"Chicot, they are my friends." + +"Friends! I would lay any bet to make them all turn against you +before to-morrow." + +"Well, what do you advise?" + +"To wait, my son. Half the wisdom of Solomon lies in that word. +If an ambassador arrive, receive him courteously. And as to your +brother, kill him if you can and like, but do not degrade him. +He is a great knave, but he is a Valois; besides, he can do that +well enough for himself." + +"It is true, Chicot." + +"One more lesson that you owe me. Now let me sleep, Henri; for +the last week I have been engaged in fuddling a monk." + +"A monk! the one of whom you have already spoken to me?" + +"Just so. You promised him an abbey." + +"I?" + +"Pardieu! it is the least you can do for him, after all he has +done for you." + +"He is then still devoted to me?" + +"He adores you. Apropos, my son----" + +"What?" + +"In three weeks it will be the Fete Dieu." + +"Well!" + +"Are we to have some pretty little procession?" + +"I am the most Christian king, and it is my duty to set an example +to my subjects." + +"And you will, as usual, stop at the four great convents of Paris?" + +"Yes." + +"At St. Genevieve?" + +"Yes, that is the second I stop at." + +"Good." + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Oh, nothing--I was curious. Now I know all I want, so good night, +Henri!" + +But just as Chicot prepared to leave, a great noise was heard. + +"What is that noise?" said the king. + +"It is ordained that I am not to sleep. Henri, you must get me +a room in the town, or I must leave your service; the Louvre +becomes insupportable." + +At this moment the captain of the guards entered, saying, "Sire, +it is an envoy from M. le Duc d'Anjou." + +"With a suite?" + +"No, sire, alone." + +"Then you must receive him doubly well, Henri, for he is a brave +fellow." + +"Well," said the king, very pale, but trying to look calm, "let +all my court assemble in the great hall." + + + + + +CHAPTER LXXV. + +WHICH IS ONLY THE END OF THE PRECEDING ONE. + +Henri sat on his throne in the great hall, and around him was +grouped an eager crowd. He looked pale and frowning. + +"Sire," said Quelus to the king, "do you know the name of the +ambassador?" + +"No; but what does it matter?" + +"Sire, it is M. de Bussy; the insult is doubled." + +"I see no insult," said the king, with affected sang-froid. + +"Let him enter," continued he. Bussy, with his hat in his hand, +and his head erect, advanced straight to the king, and waited, +with his usual look of pride, to be interrogated. + +"You here, M. de Bussy!" said the king; "I thought you were in +Anjou." + +"Sire, I was, but you see I have quitted it." + +"And what brings you here?" + +"The desire of presenting my humble respects to your majesty." + +The king and courtiers looked astonished; they expected a different +answer. + +"And nothing else?" said the king. + +"I will add, sire, the orders I received from the Duc d'Anjou +to join his respects to mine." + +"And the duke said nothing else?" + +"Only that he was on the point of returning with the queen-mother, +and wished me to apprise your majesty of the return of one of +your most faithful subjects." + +The king was choked with surprise. + +"Good morning, M. de Bussy," said Chicot. + +Bussy turned, astonished to find a friend in that place. + +"Good day, M. Chicot; I am delighted to see you." + +"Is that all you have to say, M. de Bussy?" asked the king. + +"Yes, sire; anything that remains to be said, will be said by +the duke himself." + +The king rose and went away, and Bussy continued to converse +with Chicot, until the king called to him. As soon as Bussy was +alone, Quelus approached him. + +"Good morning, M. Quelus," said Bussy graciously; "may I have +the honor of asking how you are?" + +"Very bad." + +"Oh, mon Dieu! what is the matter?" + +"Something annoys me infinitely." + +"Something! And are you not powerful enough to get rid of it?" + +"It is not something, but some one, that M. Quelus means," said +Maugiron, advancing. + +"And whom I advise him to get rid of," said Schomberg, coming +forward on the other side. + +"Ah, M. de Schomberg! I did not recognize you." + +"Perhaps not; is my face still blue?" + +"Not so; you are very pale. Are you not well?" + +"Yes, it is with anger." + +"Oh I then you have also some one who annoys you?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And I also," said Maugiron. + +"Really, gentlemen, you all look very gloomy." + +"You forget me," said D'Epernon, planting himself before Bussy. + +"Pardon me, M. d'Epernon, you were behind the others, as usual, +and I have so little the pleasure of knowing you, that it was +not for me to speak first." + +It was strange to see Bussy smiling and calm among those four +furious faces, whose eyes spoke with so terrible an eloquence, +that he must have been blind or stupid not to have understood +their language. + +But Bussy never lost his smile. + +"It seems to me that there is an echo in this room," said he quietly. + +"Look, gentlemen," said Quelus, "how provincial M. de Bussy has +become; he has a beard, and no knot to his sword; he has black +boots and a gray hat." + +"It is an observation that I was just making to myself, my dear +sir; seeing you so well dressed, I said to myself, 'How much +harm a few weeks' absence does to a man; here am I, Louis de +Clermont, forced to take a little Gascon gentleman as a model +of taste.' But let me pass; you are so near to me that you tread +on my feet, and I feel it in spite of my boots." + +And turning away, he advanced towards St. Luc, whom he saw +approaching. + +"Incredible!" cried all the young men, "we insulted him; he took +no notice." + +"There is something in it," said Quelus. + +"Well!" said the king, advancing, "what were you and M. de Bussy +saying?" + +"Do you wish to know what M. de Bussy said, sire?" + +"Yes, I am curious." + +"Well, I trod on his foot, and insulted him, and he said nothing." + +"What, gentlemen," cried Henri, feigning anger, "you dared to +insult a gentleman in the Louvre!" + +"Alas! yes, sire, and he said nothing." + +"Well! I am going to the queen." + +As the king went out of the great door, St. Luc reentered by a +side one, and advanced towards the four gentlemen. + +"Pardon, M. Quelus," said he, "but do you still live in the Rue +St. Honore?" + +"Yes, my dear friend; why do you ask?" + +"I have two words to say to you." + +"Ah!" + +"And you, M. de Schomberg?" + +"Rue Bethisy," said Schomberg, astonished. + +"D'Epernon's address I know." + +"Rue de Grenelle." + +"You are my neighbor. And you, Maugiron?" + +"Near the Louvre. But I begin to understand; you come from M. +de Bussy." + +"Never mind from whom I come; I have to speak to you, that is +all." + +"To all four of us?" + +"Yes." + +"Then if you cannot speak here, let us all go to Schomberg's; +it is close by." + +"So be it." + +And the five gentlemen went out of the Louvre arm in arm. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVI. + +HOW M. DE ST. LUC ACQUITTED HIMSELF OF THE COMMISSION GIVEN TO +HIM BY BUSSY. + +Let us leave St. Luc a little while in Schomberg's room, and see +what had passed between him and Bussy. + +Once out of the hall, St. Luc had stopped, and looked anxiously +at his friend. + +"Are you ill?" said he, "you are so pale; you look as though you +were about to faint." + +"No, I am only choking with anger." + +"You do not surely mind those fellows?" + +"You shall see." + +"Come, Bussy, be calm." + +"You are charming, really; be calm, indeed! if you had had half +said to you that I have had, some one would have been dead before +this." + +"Well, what do you want?" + +"You are my friend; you have already given me a terrible proof +of it." + +"Ah! my dear friend," said St. Luc, who believed Monsoreau dead +and buried, "do not thank me, it is not worth while; certainly +the thrust was a good one, and succeeded admirably, but it was +the king who showed it me, when he kept me here a prisoner at +the Louvre." + +"Dear friend." + +"Never mind Monsoreau; tell me about Diana. Was she pleased at +last? Does she pardon me? When will the wedding take place?" + +"Oh! my dear friend, we must wait till Monsoreau is dead." + +"What!" cried St. Luc, starting back as though he had put his +foot on a pointed nail. + +"Yes; poppies are not such dangerous plants as you thought; he +did not die from his fall on them, but is alive and more furious +than ever." + +"Really?" + +"Yes, and he talks of nothing but vengeance, and of killing you +on the first occasion." + +"And I have announced his death to everyone; he will find his +heirs in mourning. But he shall not give me the lie; I shall +meet him again, and if he escapes me a second time----" + +"Calm yourself, my dear St. Luc; really, I am better off than +you would think; it is the duke whom he suspects, and of whom +he is jealous. I am his dear Bussy--his precious friend. That +is only natural, for it was that fool of a Remy who cured him. + +"What an idiot he must have been!" + +"He has an idea that, as an honest man and a doctor, it is his +duty to cure people. However, Monsoreau says he owes his life +to me, and confides his wife to my care." + +"Ah! I understand that this makes you wait more patiently for +his death. However, I am quite thunderstruck at the news." + +"But, now, my friend, let us leave Monsoreau." + +"Yes, let us enjoy life while he is still ill; but once he is +well, I shall order myself a suit of mail, have new locks put +on my doors, and you must ask the Duc d'Anjou if his mother has +not given him some antidote against poison. Meanwhile, let us +amuse ourselves." + +"Well, my dear friend, you see you have only rendered me half +a service." + +"Do you wish me to finish it?" + +"Yes, in another way." + +"Speak." + +"Are you great friends with those four gentlemen?" + +"Ma foi! we are something like cats and dogs in the sun; as long +as we an get the heat, we agree, but if one of us took the warmth +from another, then I do not answer for the consequences." + +"Well, will you go for me to M. Quelus, first?" + +"Ah!" + +"And ask him what day it will please him that I should cut his +throat, or he mine?" + +"I will." + +"You do not mind it?" + +"Not the least in the world. I will go at once if you wish it." + +"One moment; as you go, just call on M. Schomberg and make him +the same proposal." + +"Schomberg too? Diable, how you go on! Well, as you wish." + +"Then, my dear St. Luc, as you are so amiable, go also to M. +Maugiron, and ask him to join the party." + +"What, three! Bussy, you cannot mean it. I hope that is all." + +"No; from him go to D'Epernon." + +"Four!" + +"Even so, my dear friend; I need not recommend to a man like you +to proceed with courtesy and politeness towards these gentlemen. +Let the thing be done in gallant fashion." + +"You shall be content, my friend. What are your conditions?" + +"I make none; I accept theirs." + +"Your arms?" + +"What they like." + +"The day, place, and hour?" + +"Whatever suits them." + +"But----" + +"Oh! never mind such trifles, but do it quickly; I will walk +in the little garden of the Luxembourg; you will find me there +when you have executed your commission." + +"You will wait, then?" + +"Yes." + +"It may be long." + +"I have time." + +We know how St. Luc found the four young men, and accompanied +them to Schomberg's house. St. Luc remained in the ante-chamber, +waiting until, according to the etiquette of the day, the four +young men were installed in the saloon ready to receive him. +Then an usher came and saluted St. Luc, who followed him to the +threshold of the saloon, where he announced M. d'Espinay de St. +Luc. + +Schomberg then rose and saluted his visitor, who, to mark the +character of the visit, instead of returning it, put on his hat. +Schomberg then, turning towards Quelus, said, + +"I have the honor to present to you M. Jacques de Levis, Comte +de Quelus." + +The two gentlemen bowed, and then the same ceremony was gone +through with the others. This done, the four friends sat down, +but St. Luc remained standing and said to Quelus, + +"M. le Comte, you have insulted M. le Comte Louis de Clermont +d'Amboise, Seigneur de Bussy, who presents to you his compliments, +and calls you to single combat on any day and hour, and with +such arms as may please you. Do you accept?" + +"Certainly; M. de Bussy does me much honor." + +"Your day and hour, M. le Comte?" + +"To-morrow morning at seven o'clock." + +"Your arms?" + +"Rapier and dagger, if that suits M. de Bussy." + +St. Luc bowed. Then he addressed the same questions to the others, +and received the same answers. + +"If we all choose the same day and hour, M. de Bussy will be rather +embarrassed," said Schomberg. + +"Certainly," replied St. Luc, "M. de Bussy may be embarrassed, +but he says that the circumstance would not be new to him, as +it has already happened at the Tournelles." + +"And he would fight us all four?" + +"All four." + +"Separately?" + +"Separately, or at once." + +The four young men looked at each other; then Quelus, red with +anger, said: + +"It is very fine of M. de Bussy, but however little we may be +worth, we can each do our own work; we will accept, therefore, +the count's proposal, fighting separately, or rather, which will +be still better, as we do not seek to assassinate a gallant man, +chance shall decide which of us shall fight M. de Bussy." + +"And the three others?" + +"Oh! M. de Bussy has too many friends, and we too many enemies, +for them to remain with folded arms. Do you agree to this, +gentlemen?" + +"Yes!" cried all. + +"If MM. Ribeirac, Antragues, and Livarot would join the party, +it would be complete." + +"Gentlemen," said St. Luc, "I will transmit your desires to M. +de Bussy, and I believe I may promise that he is too courteous +not to agree to your wishes. It therefore only remains for me +to thank you in his name." + +Then he took his leave, after throwing his purse to the four +lackeys, whom he found outside, to drink to their masters' healths. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVII. + +IN WHAT RESPECT M. DE ST. LUC WAS MORE CIVILIZED THAN M. DE BUSSY, +THE LESSONS WHICH HE GAVE HIM, AND THE USE WHICH M. DE BUSSY +MADE OF THEM. + +St. Luc returned, proud of having executed his commission so +well. Bussy thanked him, but looked sad, which was not natural +to him. + +"Have I done badly?" said St. Luc. + +"Ma foi, my dear friend, I only regret you did not say, 'at once.'" + +"Why! what is the hurry?" + +"I wish to die as soon as possible." + +St. Luc looked at him in astonishment. + +"Die! at your age, with your name, and Diana!" + +"Yes, I shall kill them, I know, but I shall receive some good +blow which will tranquilize me forever." + +"What black ideas, Bussy!" + +"A husband whom I thought dead, and who has returned to life; +a wife who can scarcely quit the bedside of the pretended dying +man. Not to see her, smile on her, touch her hand. Mon Dieu!----" + +St. Luc interrupted him with a burst of laughter. "Oh!" cried +he, "the innocent man. Why, no lover can be more fortunate than +you." + +"Prove that to me." + +"You are the friend of M. de Monsoreau." + +"Yes, I am ashamed to say, he calls me his friend." + +"Well! be his friend." + +"Oh! and abuse this title!" + +"Is he really your friend?" + +"He says so." + +"No; for he makes you unhappy. Now the end of friendship is to +make one another happy. At least, so his majesty says, and he +is learned in friendship. So, if he makes you unhappy, he is not +your friend; therefore you may treat him either as a stranger, +and take his wife from him, or as an enemy, and kill him if he +murmurs." + +"In fact, I hate him. But do you not think he loves me?" + +"Diable! Take away his wife and see." + +"I must continue to be a man of honor." + +"And let Madame de Monsoreau cure her husband both physically +and morally. For it is certain that if you get yourself killed, +she will attach herself to the only man who remains to her." + +Bussy frowned. + +"But," added St. Luc, "here is my wife; she always gives good +advice. She has been picking herself a bouquet in the gardens +of the queen-mother, and will be in a good humor. Listen to her; +she speaks gold." + +Jeanne arrived radiant, full of happiness and fun. Bussy saluted +her in a friendly manner, and she held out her hand to him, saying, +with a smile, "How go on the love affairs?" + +"They are dying." + +"They are wounded and fainting; perhaps you can restore them, +Jeanne?" + +"Let me see; show me the wound." + +"In two words, this is it: M. de Bussy does not like smiling on +M. de Monsoreau, and he thinks of retiring." + +"And leaving Diana to him?" + +"Oh! madame, St. Luc does not tell you that I wish to die." + +"Poor Diana!" murmured Jeanne, "decidedly men are ungrateful." + +"Good! this is the conclusion my wife draws." + +"I, ungrateful!" cried Bussy, "because I fear to render my love +vile, by practising a disgraceful hypocrisy?" + +"Oh! monsieur, that is only a pretext. If you were really in +love, you would fear but one thing--not to be loved in return." + +"But, madame, there are sacrifices----" + +"Not another word. Confess that you love Diana no longer; it will +be more worthy of a gallant man." + +Bussy grew pale. + +"You do not dare to tell her; well, I will." + +"Madame! madame!" + +"You are rich, you men, with your sacrifices. And does she make +none? What! expose herself to be massacred by that tiger of a +Monsoreau, preserve her position only by employing a strength +of will of which Samson or Hannibal would have been incapable. +Oh! I swear, Diana is sublime, I could not do a quarter of what +she does every day." + +"Thank you!" said St. Luc. + +"And he hesitates!" continued she, "he does not fall on his knees +and say his mea culpa." + +"You are right," said Bussy, "I am but a man, that is to say, +an imperfect creature, inferior to the most commonplace woman." + +"It is lucky you are convinced of it." + +"What do you order me?" + +"To go at once and pay it visit----" + +"To M. de Monsoreau?" + +"Who speaks of him?--to Diana." + +"But he never leaves her." + +"When you went so often to see Madame de Barbezieux, had she +not always near her that great ape who bit you because he was +jealous?" + +Bussy began to laugh, and St. Luc and Jeanne followed his example. + +"Madame," then said Bussy, "I am going to M. de Monsoreau's house; +adieu." + +He went there, and found the count in bed; he was delighted to +see him, and told him that Remy promised that his wound would +be cured in three weeks. Bussy recounted to him the commission +with which he had been charged, and his visit to the court. + +"The duke has still projects on foot, has he not?" + +"I believe so." + +"Do not compromise yourself for that bad man; I know him: he is +perfidious, and will not hesitate to betray you." + +"I know it." + +"You are my friend, and I wish to put you on your guard." + +"You must sleep after the dressing of your wound," said Remy. + +"Yes, my dear doctor. My friend, take a turn in the garden with +Madame de Monsoreau." + +"I am at your orders," replied Bussy. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVIII. + +THE PRECAUTIONS OF M. DE MONSOREAU. + +St. Luc was right, and Jeanne was right, and Bussy soon acknowledged +it. As for Diana, she gave herself up to the two instincts that +Figaro recognizes as inborn in mankind, to love and to deceive. +M. de Monsoreau grew better and better. He had escaped from fever, +thanks to the application of cold water, that new remedy which +Providence had discovered to Ambrose Pare, when all at once he +received a great shock at hearing of the arrival in Paris of +the duke with the queen-mother. The day after his arrival, the +duke, under the pretext of asking after him, presented himself +at his hotel, and it was impossible to close his door against +a prince who showed so much interest in him. M. de Monsoreau +therefore was obliged to receive the prince, who was most amiable +to him and to his wife. As soon as he was gone, M. de Monsoreau +took Diana's arm, and in spite of Remy's remonstrances walked +three times round his armchair; and, from his satisfied air, +Diana was sure he was meditating on some project. + +The next day the duke came again, and this time Monsoreau walked +round his room. That evening Diana warned Bussy that her husband +had certainly some project in his head. A few minutes after, when +Bussy and Monsoreau were alone, "When I think," said Monsoreau, +"that this prince, who smiles on me, is my mortal enemy, and +tried to have me assassinated by M. de St. Luc----" + +"Oh, assassinated! take care, M. le Comte. St. Luc is a gentleman, +and you confess yourself that you provoked him, drew the sword +first, and received your wound in fair fight." + +"Certainly; but it is not the less true that he obeyed the wishes +of M. d'Anjou." + +"Listen! I know M. de St. Luc, and I can assure you he is devoted +to the king, and hates the duke. If your wound had come from +Antragues, Livarot, or Ribeirac, it might be so; but not from +St. Luc." + +"You do not know," replied Monsoreau, obstinate in his opinion. +At last he was able to go down into the garden. "That will do," +said he; "now we will move." + +"Why move?" said Remy. "The air is good here, and there is plenty +of amusement." + +"Too much; M. d'Anjou fatigues me with his visits, and he always +brings with him a crowd of gentlemen, and the noise of their +spurs destroys my nerves." + +"But where are you going?" + +"I have ordered them to get ready my little house at the Tournelles." + +Bussy and Diana exchanged a look of loving remembrance. + +"What, that little place?" cried Remy, imprudently. + +"What! do you know it?" + +"Who does not know the houses of the chief huntsman? particularly +I, who lived in the Rue Beautrellis." + +"Yes, yes, I will go there. It is a fortress, and one can see +from the window, three hundred yards off, who is coming to visit +you, and avoid them if you like, particularly when you are well!" + +Bussy bit his lips; he feared a time might come when Monsoreau +might avoid him. Diana thought of the time when she had seen +Bussy in that house, lying fainting on the bed. + +"You cannot do it," said Remy. + +"Why not, if you please, monsieur?" + +"Because the chief huntsman of France must hold receptions--must +keep valets and equipages. Let him have a palace for his dogs, +if he likes, but not a dog-kennel for himself." + +"It is true, but----" + +"But I am the doctor of the mind as of the body; it is not your +residence here that displeases you." + +"What then?" + +"That of madame; therefore send her away." + +"Separate?" cried Monsoreau, fixing on Diana a look, more of anger +than love. + +"Then give up your place--send in your resignation. I believe +it would be wise; if you do not do your duty, you will displease +the king, and if you do----" + +"I will do anything but quit the countess," said Monsoreau, with +closely-shut teeth. As he spoke, they heard in the courtyard a +noise of voices and horses' feet. + +"The duke again!" cried he. + +"Yes," said Remy. + +Immediately after the prince entered, and Monsoreau saw his first +glance given to Diana. He brought to her, as a present, one of +those masterpieces, of which the artists of that day were in the +habit of producing two or three in the course of a lifetime. It +was a poniard, with a handle of chased gold. This handle was a +smelling-bottle, and on the blade a chase was carved with admirable +skill; horses, dogs, trees, game, and hunters, mingled together +in an harmonious pele-mele, on this blade of azure and gold. + +"Let me see," cried Monsoreau, who feared there was a note hidden +in the handle. + +The prince separated the two parts. "To you, who are a hunter," said +he, "I give the blade: to the countess, the handle. Good-morning, +Bussy, you are then a friend of the count's, now?" + +Diana reddened, but Bussy said: + +"Your highness forgets that you asked me to inquire after M. de +Monsoreau." + +"It is true." + +The prince sat down, and began to talk to Diana. In a few minutes +he said, "Count, it is dreadfully warm in your rooms. I see the +countess is stifling. I will give her my arm for a turn in the +garden." + +The husband looked furious. + +"Give me an arm," said he to Bussy, and he got up and followed +his wife. + +"Ah!" said the duke, "it seems you are better." + +"Yes, monseigneur, and I hope soon to be able to accompany Madame +de Monsoreau wherever she goes." + +"Good; but meanwhile, do not fatigue yourself." + +Monsoreau was obliged to sit down, but he kept them in view. + +"Count," said he to Bussy, "will you be amiable enough to escort +Madame de Monsoreau this evening to my house at the Tournelles?" + +"You cannot do that, monsieur," said Remy. + +"Why not?" + +"Because M. d'Anjou would never forgive you if you helped to play +him such a trick." + +Bussy was about to cry, "What do I care?" but a glance from Remy +stopped him. + +"Remy is right," said Monsoreau, "it would injure you; to-morrow +I will go myself." + +"You will lose your place." + +"It is possible; but I shall keep my wife." + +The next day they went to the old house; Diana took her old room, +with the bed of white and gold damask. A corridor only separated +it from that of the count. Bussy tore his hair with rage. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIX. + +A VISIT TO THE HOUSE AT LES TOURNELLES. + +The duke became more and more in love with Diana, as she seemed +always to escape him, and with his love for her, his hatred of +Monsoreau increased. On the other side he had not renounced his +political hopes, but had recommenced his underhand machinations. +The moment was favorable, for many wavering conspirators had +been encouraged by the kind of triumph which the weakness of +the king, and the cunning of Catherine, had given to the duke; +however, he no longer confided his projects to Bussy, and showed +him only a hypocritical friendship. He was vaguely uneasy at +seeing him at Monsoreau's house, and envious of the confidence +that Monsoreau, so suspicious of himself, placed in him. He was +frightened also at the joy and happiness which shone in Diana's +face. He knew that flowers only bloom in the light of the sun, +and women in that of love. She was visibly happy, and this annoyed +him. Determined to use his power, both for love and vengeance, +he thought it would be absurd to be stayed in this purpose by +such ridiculous obstacles as the jealousy of a husband, and the +repugnance of a wife. One day he ordered his equipages, intending +to visit Monsoreau. He was told that he had moved to his house +in the Rue St. Antoine. + +"Let us go there," said he to Bussy. Soon the place was in commotion +at the arrival of the twenty-four handsome cavaliers, each with +two lackeys, who formed the prince's suite. Both Bussy and the +prince knew the house well; they both went in, but while the +prince entered the room, Bussy remained on the staircase. It +resulted from this arrangement that the duke was received by +Monsoreau alone, while Bussy was received by Diana, while Gertrude +kept watch. Monsoreau, always pale, grew livid at sight of the +prince. + +"Monseigneur, here! really it is too much honor for my poor house!" +cried he, with a visible irony. + +The prince smiled. "Wherever a suffering friend goes, I follow +him," replied he. "How are you?" + +"Oh, much better; I can already walk about, and in a week I shall +be quite well." + +"Was it your doctor who prescribed for you the air of the Bastile?" +asked the prince, with the most innocent air possible. + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +"Did you not like the Rue des Petits-Peres?" + +"No, monseigneur; I had too much company there--they made too +much noise." + +"But you have no garden here." + +"I did not like the garden." + +The prince bit his lips. "Do you know, comte," said he, "that +many people are asking the king for your place?" + +"On what pretext, monseigneur?" + +"They say you are dead." + +"Monseigneur, you can answer for it that I am not." + +"I answer for nothing; you bury yourself as though you were dead." + +It was Monsoreau's turn to bite his lips. + +"Well, then, I must lose my place," said he. + +"Really?" + +"Yes; there are things I prefer to it." + +"You are very disinterested." + +"It is my character, monseigneur." + +"Then of course you will not mind the king's knowing your +character?" + +"Who will tell him?" + +"Diable! if he asks me about you, I must repeat our conversation." + +"Ma foi! monseigneur, if all they say in Paris were reported +to the king, his two ears would not be enough to listen with." + +"What do they say at Paris, monsieur?" asked the prince sharply. + +Monsoreau tried to calm himself. "How should a poor invalid, as +I am, know?" said he. "If the king is angry at seeing his work +badly done, he is wrong." + +"How so?" + +"Because, doubtless, my accident proceeds, to some extent, from +him." + +"Explain yourself." + +"M. de St. Luc, who wounded me, is a dear friend of the king's. +It was the king who taught him the thrust by which he wounded +me, and it might have been the king who prompted him." + +"You are right; but still the king is the king." + +"Until he is so no longer." + +The duke trembled. "Is not Madame de Monsoreau here?" said he. + +"Monseigneur, she is ill, or she would have come to present her +respects to you." + +"Ill! poor woman! it must be grief at seeing you suffer." + +"Yes, and the fatigue of moving." + +"Let us hope it will be a short indisposition. You have so skilful +a doctor." + +"Yes, that dear Remy----" + +"Why, he is Bussy's doctor." + +"He has lent him to me." + +"You are, then, great friends?" + +"He is my best, I might say my only, friend." + +"Adieu, come!" + +As the duke raised the tapestry, he fancied he saw the skirt +of a dress disappear into the next room, and immediately Bussy +appeared at his post in the middle of the corridor. Suspicion +grew stronger with the duke. + +"We are going," said he to Bussy, who ran down-stairs without +replying; while the duke, left alone, tried to penetrate the +corridor where he had seen the silk dress vanish. But, turning, +he saw that Monsoreau had followed, and was standing at the door. + +"Your highness mistakes your way," said he. + +"True," said the duke, "thank you." And he went down with rage +in his heart. When he returned home, Aurilly glided into his +room. + +"Well," said the duke, "I am baffled by the husband!" + +"And, perhaps, also by the lover, monseigneur." + +"What do you say?" + +"The truth." + +"Speak, then." + +"I hope your highness will pardon me--it was in your service." + +"I pardon you in advance. Go on." + +"After your highness had gone up-stairs, I watched under a shed +in the courtyard." + +"Ah! What did you see?" + +"I saw a woman's dress; I saw this woman lean forward, and then +I heard the sound of along and tender kiss." + +"But who was the man?" + +"I cannot recognize arms." + +"No, but you might gloves." + +"Indeed, it seemed to me----" + +"That you recognized them?" + +"It was only a guess." + +"Never mind." + +"Well, monseigneur, they looked like the gloves of M. de Bussy." + +"Buff, embroidered with gold, were they not?" + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +"Ah! Bussy! yes, it was Bussy. Oh, I was blind and yet not blind; +but I could not believe in so much audacity." + +"But your highness must not believe it too lightly; might there +not have been a man hidden in her room?" + +"Yes, doubtless, but Bussy, who was in the corridor, would have +seen him." + +"That is true." + +"And then the gloves----" + +"Yes, and besides the kiss, I heard----" + +"What?" + +"Three words, 'Till to-morrow evening.'" + +"Oh! mon Dieu!" + +"So that, if you like, we can make sure." + +"Aurilly, we will go." + +"Your highness knows I am at your orders." + +"Ah! Bussy, a traitor! Bussy, the honest man--Bussy, who does +not wish me to be King of France;" and the duke, smiling with +an infernal joy, dismissed Aurilly. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXX. + +THE WATCHERS. + +The duke kept Bussy near him all day, so as not to lose sight of +his movements. Bussy did not care, so that he had his evenings +free. At ten o'clock he wrapped himself in his cloak, and with +a rope ladder under his arm went towards the Bastile. The duke, +who did not know that he had a ladder, and could not believe in +any one walking alone at night through the streets of Paris, +thought Bussy would certainly call at his hotel for a horse and +a servant, and lost ten minutes in preparations. During those ten +minutes, Bussy, active and in love, had already gone three-fourths +of the distance. He was lucky, as brave people generally are, and +met with no accident by the way, and on arriving saw a light in +the windows. It was the signal agreed on between him and Diana. +He threw his ladder up to the balcony, it had six hooks to it, +and was sure to fasten itself somewhere. At the noise, Diana +put out her light and opened the window to fasten the ladder. The +thing was done in a moment. Diana looked all around; the street +seemed deserted. Then she signed to Bussy to mount, and he was up +in five seconds. The moment was happily chosen, for while he +got in at the window, M. de Monsoreau, after having listened +patiently for a quarter of an hour at his wife's door, descended +the stairs painfully, leaning on the arm of a confidential valet, +and it so happened that he opened the street-door just as the +ladder was drawn up, and the window closed. He looked around, +but the streets were deserted. + +"You have been badly informed," said he to the servant. + +"No, monsieur, I have just left the Hotel d'Anjou, and they told +me that the duke had ordered two horses for this evening. But +perhaps it was not to come here." + +"Where else should he go?" said Monsoreau, with a somber air. +He, like all jealous persons, thought the whole world had nothing +to do but to torment him. + +"Perhaps I should have done better to stay in her room," murmured +he. "But they probably have signals for corresponding; she would +have warned him of my presence, and I should have learned nothing. +It is better to watch outside. Come, conduct me to the hiding-place, +whence you say one can see everything." + +"Come, monsieur." + +About twenty-five steps from the door was an enormous heap of stones +belonging to demolished houses, and serving for fortifications to +the children of the neighborhood when they played at battles. +In the midst was a space, which could contain two people. The +valet spread a cloak, on which Monsoreau sat down, while his +servant sat at his feet, with a loaded musket placed beside him. +Diana had prudently drawn her thick curtains, so that scarcely +a ray of light showed through, to betray that there was life +in this gloomy house. + +They had been watching about ten minutes, when two horses appeared +at the end of the street. The valet pointed to them. + +"I see," said Monsoreau. + +The two men got off their horses, and tied them up at the corner +of the Hotel des Tournelles. + +"Monseigneur," said Aurilly, "I believe we have arrived too late; +he must have gone straight from your hotel and must have entered." + +"Perhaps so; but if we did not see him go in, we can see him come +out." + +"Yes, but when?" + +"When we please." + +"Would it be too curious to ask how you mean to manage?" + +"Nothing is more easy; we have but to knock at the door, and +ask after M. de Monsoreau. Our lover will be frightened at the +noise, and as you enter the house he will come out at the window, +and I, who am hidden outside, shall see him." + +"And Monsoreau?" + +"What can he say? I am his friend, and was uneasy about him, as +he looked so ill yesterday; nothing can be more simple." + +"It is very ingenious, monseigneur." + +"Do you hear what they say?" asked Monsoreau of his valet. + +"No, monsieur, but we soon shall, for they are coming nearer." + +"Monseigneur," said Aurilly, "here is a heap of stones which seems +made on purpose for us." + +"Yes, but wait a moment, perhaps we can see through the opening +of the curtain." And they stood for some minutes trying to find +a place to peep through. Meanwhile, Monsoreau was boiling with +impatience, and his hand approached the musket. + +"Oh! shall I suffer this?" murmured he, "shall I devour this +affront also? No, my patience is worn out. Mordieu! that I can +neither sleep, nor wake, nor even suffer quietly, because a shameful +caprice has lodged in the idle brain of this miserable prince. +No, I am not a complaisant valet; I am the Comte de Monsoreau, +and if he comes near, on my word, I will blow his brains out. +Light the match, Rene." + +At this moment, just as the prince was about to seek his +hiding-place, leaving his companion to knock at the door, Aurilly +touched his arm. + +"Well, monsieur, what is it?" asked the prince. + +"Come away, monseigneur, come." + +"Why so?" + +"Do you not see something shining there to the left?" + +"I see a spark among that heap of stones." + +"It is the match of a musket, or arquebuse." + +"Ah! who the devil can be in ambush there?" + +"Some friend or servant of Bussy's. Let us go and make a detour, +and return another way. The servant will give the alarm, and +we shall see Bussy come out of the window." + +"You are right; come;" and they went to their horses. + +"They are going," said the valet. + +"Yes. Did you recognize them?" + +"They seemed to me to be the prince and Aurilly." + +"Just so. But I shall soon be more sure still." + +"What will monsieur do?" + +"Come." + +Meanwhile, the duke and Aurilly turned into the Rue St. Catherine, +intending to return by the boulevard of the Bastile. + +Monsoreau went in, and ordered his litter. + +What the duke had foreseen happened. At the noise that Monsoreau +made, Bussy took the alarm, the light was extinguished, the ladder +fixed, and Bussy, to his great regret, was obliged to fly, like +Romeo, but without having, like him, seen the sun rise and heard +the lark sing. Just as he touched the ground, and Diana had thrown +him the ladder, the duke and Aurilly arrived at the corner of +the Bastile. They saw a shadow suspended from Diana's window, +but this shadow disappeared almost instantaneously at the corner +of the Rue St. Paul. + +"Monsieur," said the valet to Monsoreau, "we shall wake up the +household." + +"What do I care?" cried Monsoreau, furiously. "I am master here, +I believe, and I have at least the right to do what M. d'Anjou +wished to do." + +The litter was got ready, and, drawn by two stout horses, it was +soon at the Hotel d'Anjou. + +The duke and Aurilly had so recently come in that their horses +were not unsaddled. Monsoreau, who had the entree, appeared on +the threshold just as the duke, after having thrown his hat on +a chair, was holding out his boots to a valet to pull off. A +servant, preceding him by some steps, announced M. de Monsoreau. +A thunderbolt breaking his windows, could not have astonished +the prince more. + +"M. de Monsoreau!" cried he, with an uneasiness he could not hide. + +"Myself, monseigneur," replied he, trying to repress his emotion, +but the effort he made over himself was so violent that his legs +failed him, and he fell on to a chair which stood near. + +"But you will kill yourself, my dear friend," said the duke; +"you are so pale, you look as though you were going to faint." + +"Oh, no; what I have to say to your highness is of too much +importance; I may faint afterwards." + +"Speak, then, my dear comte." + +"Not before your people, I suppose." + +The duke dismissed everyone. + +"Your highness has just come in?" said Monsoreau. + +"As you see, comte." + +"It is very imprudent of your highness to go by night in the street." + +"Who told you I had been in the streets?" + +"The dust on your clothes." + +"M. de Monsoreau, have you another employment besides that of +chief huntsman?" + +"Yes, that of spy, monseigneur; all the world follow that calling +now, more or less, and I, like the rest." + +"And what does this profession bring you, monsieur?" + +"Knowledge." + +"It is curious." + +"Very curious." + +"Well, tell me what you have to say." + +"I came for that." + +"You permit me to sit down?" said the duke. + +"No irony, monseigneur, towards an old and faithful servant, +who comes at this hour and in this state to do you a service. +If I sat down, on my honor, it was because I could not stand." + +"A service! to do me a service?" + +"Yes." + +"Speak, then." + +"Monseigneur, I come on the part of a great prince." + +"From the king?" + +"No; M. le Duc de Guise." + +"Ah! that is quite a different thing. Approach, and speak low." + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXI. + +HOW M. LE DUC D'ANJOU SIGNED, AND AFTER HAVING SIGNED, SPOKE. + +There was a moment's silence. Then the duke said: "Well, M. le +Comte, what have you to say to me from the Duc de Guise?" + +"Much, monseigneur." + +"They have written to you?" + +"No; the duke writes no more since that strange disappearance +of Nicholas David. They have come to Paris." + +"MM. de Guise are at Paris?" + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +"I have not seen them." + +"They are too prudent to expose themselves or your highness to +any risk." + +"And I was not told!" + +"I tell you now." + +"What have they come for?" + +"They come, monseigneur, to the rendezvous you gave them." + +"That I gave them!" + +"Doubtless; on the day when your highness was arrested you received +a letter from M. de Guise, and replied to it verbally, through +me, that they were to come to Paris from the thirty-first of +May to the second of June. It is now the thirty-first of May, +and if your highness has forgotten them, they have not forgotten +you." + +Francois grew pale. So many events had passed since, that he +had forgotten the rendezvous. "It is true," said he, at length, +"but the relations which then existed between us exist no longer." + +"If that be so, monseigneur, you would do well to tell them, for +I believe they think differently." + +"How so?" + +"You, perhaps, think yourself free as regards them, but they feel +bound to you." + +"A snare, my dear comte, in which a man does not let himself be +taken twice." + +"And where was monseigneur taken in a snare?" + +"Where? at the Louvre, mordieu." + +"Was it the fault of MM. de Guise?" + +"I do not say so, but they never assisted me to escape." + +"It would have been difficult; they were flying themselves." + +"It is true." + +"But when you were in Anjou, did they not charge me to tell you +that you could always count on them, as they on you, and that +the day you marched on Paris, they would do the same?" + +"It is true, but I did not march on Paris." + +"You are here." + +"Yes; but as my brother's ally." + +"Monseigneur will permit me to observe that he is more than the +ally of the Guises." + +"What then?" + +"Their accomplice." + +The duke bit his lips. + +"And you say they charged you to announce their arrival to me?" + +"They did me that honour." + +"But they did not tell you the motive of their return?" + +"They told me all, knowing me to be the confidant of your highness." + +"Then they have projects. What are they?" + +"The same always." + +"And they think them practicable?" + +"They look upon them as certain." + +"And these projects have for an aim----" + +The duke stopped, not daring to finish. + +"To make you King of France; yes, monseigneur." + +The duke felt the flush of joy mount to his face. + +"But," said he "is the moment favorable?" + +"Your wisdom must decide." + +"My wisdom?" + +"Yes, the facts cannot be contradicted. The nomination of the +king as head of the League was only a comedy, quickly seen through +and appreciated. Now the reaction has commenced, and the entire +state is rising against the tyranny of the king and his creatures. +Sermons are a call to arms, and churches are places where they +curse the king, instead of praying to God. The army trembles +with impatience; the bourgeois league together; our emissaries +bring in nothing but signatures and new adherents to the League. +In a word, the king's reign touches on its close. Now, do you +renounce your former projects?" + +The duke did not reply. + +"Monseigneur knows that he may speak frankly to me." + +"I think," said the duke, "that considering my brother has no +children, that his health is uncertain, and that after him the +crown will come naturally to me, there is no reason why I should +compromise my name and my dignity, in a useless struggle, and +try to take, with danger, what will come to me in due course." + +"Your highness is in error; your brother's throne will only come +to you if you take it. MM. de Guise cannot be kings themselves, +but they will only allow to reign a king of their own making, +a king whom they substitute for the reigning one. They count +on your highness, but if you refuse, they will seek another." + +"And who will dare to seat himself on the throne of Charlemagne?" + +"A Bourbon instead of a Valois, monseigneur; a son of St, Louis, +instead of a son of St. Louis." + +"The king of Navarre?" + +"Why not? He is young, and brave," + +"He is a Huguenot." + +"Was he not converted at the St. Bartholomew?" + +"Yes, and he abjured afterwards." + +"Oh, monseigneur, what he did for his wife, he will do again for +the crown." + +"They think, then, that I will yield my rights without a struggle." + +"The case is provided for." + +"I will fight." + +"They are men of war." + +"I will put myself at the head of the League." + +"They are the soul of it." + +"I will join my brother." + +"Your brother will be dead." + +"I will call the kings of Europe to my aid." + +"They will think twice before making war on a people." + +"My party will stand by me." + +"Your party, I believe, consists of M. de Bussy and myself." + +"Then I am tied." + +"Nearly so. You can do nothing without the Guises; with them, +everything. Say the word, and you are king." + +The duke walked about for a few minutes, in great agitation, then +stopped, and said, "Go on, count." + +"This, then, is the plan. In eight days the Fete Dieu will take +place, and the king meditates on that day a great procession +to the convents of Paris. There, the guards will remain at the +door, the king will stop before each altar, kneel down, and say +five paters and five aves." + +"I know all that." + +"He will go to St. Genevieve----" + +"Yes." + +"He will enter with a suite of five or six persons, and behind +them, the doors will be closed." + +"And then----" + +"Your highness knows the monks who will do the honors of the Abbey +to his majesty." + +"They will be the same----" + +"Who were there when your highness was crowned." + +"They will dare to lay hands on the Lord's anointed?" + +"Oh! to shave him, only." + +"They will never dare to do that to a king." + +"He will not be a king then." + +"How so?" + +"Have you never heard of a holy man who preaches sermons, and +is going to perform miracles?" + +"Brother Gorenflot?" + +"Just so." + +"The one who wished to preach the League with his arquebuse on +his shoulder?" + +"The same." + +"Well! they will conduct the king into his cell; once there, he +will be asked to sign his abdication, then, when he has signed, +Madame de Montpensier will enter, scissors in hand. She wears +them now, hanging to her side; they are charming scissors, made +of gold, and admirably chased, to do him honor. You understand +the rest. We announced to the people that the king, experiencing +a holy repentance for his sins, has announced his intention of +never more leaving the convent. If there are any who doubt, M. +de Guise holds the army, M. le Cardinal the Church, and M. de +Mayenne the bourgeois; and with these three powers you can make +the people believe what you like." + +"But they will accuse me of violence," said the duke. + +"You need not be there." + +"They will look on me as a usurper." + +"Monseigneur forgets the abdication." + +"The king will refuse." + +"It seems that Brother Gorenflot is not only clever, but strong." + +"The plan is then settled?" + +"Quite." + +"And they do not fear that I shall denounce it?" + +"No, monseigneur; for in that case, they have another, not less +sure." + +"Ah!" + +"Yes." + +"And this one?" + +"I do not know; they thought me too much your friend to trust +me with it." + +"Well, I yield, count. What must I do?" + +"Approve." + +"I do." + +"Words are not enough." + +"What then?" + +"Writing." + +"It is a folly to suppose I will ever consent to that." + +"And why not?" + +"If the conspiracy fail----" + +"It is just in case it should, that they ask for your signature." + +"Then they wish to shelter themselves behind my name?" + +"Just so." + +"Then I refuse." + +"You cannot." + +"I cannot refuse?" + +"No." + +"Are you mad?" + +"To refuse is to betray." + +"Let them think as they like; at all events I will choose my own +danger." + +"Monseigneur, you choose badly." + +"I will risk it," cried Francois, endeavoring to keep firm. + +"For your own interest I advise you not to do so." + +"But I shall compromise myself by signing." + +"In refusing, you assassinate yourself." + +Francois shuddered. + +"They would dare?" said he. + +"They would dare anything, monseigneur. The conspirators have +gone so far, that they must succeed at any cost." + +The duke, with his usual indecision, felt terribly perplexed. + +"I will sign," said he, at last. + +"When?" + +"To-morrow." + +"No, monseigneur; if you sign, it must be at once." + +"But M. de Guise must draw up the agreement." + +"It is already drawn-here it is;" and Monsoreau drew a paper +from his pocket: it was a full adhesion to the scheme. The duke +read it though, growing more and more pale as he did so. + +"Here is the pen, monseigneur." + +"Then I must sign?" + +"If you wish to do so; no one forces you." + +"Yes, they do, since they menace me with assassination." + +"I do not menace you, monseigneur--I only warn you." + +"Give me the pen." + +And, snatching it eagerly, he signed the paper. Monsoreau watched +him with an eye full of hatred and hope, and no sooner had the +duke finished than, exclaiming "Ah!" he seized the paper, buttoned +it into his doublet, and wrapped his cloak over it. + +Francois looked at him with astonishment, for a flash of ferocious +joy played over his face. + +"And now, monseigneur, be prudent," said he. + +"How so?" + +"Do not run about the streets with Aurilly, as you did just now." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that, this evening, you pursued with your love a woman +whom her husband adores, and whom he is jealous of, enough to +kill any one who approaches her without permission." + +"Is it of you and your wife that you are speaking?" + +"Yes, monseigneur. I have married Diana de Meridor; she is mine, +and no one shall have her while I live--not even a prince; I +swear it by my name and on this poniard!" and he touched with +his poniard the breast of the prince, who started back. + +"Monsieur, you menace me!" cried Francois, pale with rage. + +"No, monseigneur; once more, I say, I only warn you." + +"Of what?" + +"That no one shall make love to my wife." + +"And I warn you that you are too late, and that some one makes +love to her already." + +Monsoreau uttered a terrible cry. "Is it you?" cried he. + +"You are mad, count!" + +"No, I am not; prove your words." + +"Who was hidden this evening, twenty steps from your door, with +a musket?" + +"I." + +"Well, comte, during that time there was a man with your wife." + +"You saw him go in?" + +"I saw him come out." + +"By the door?" + +"No, by the window." + +"Did you recognize him?" + +"Yes." + +"Name him, monseigneur, or I do not answer for myself." + +The duke half smiled. + +"M. le Comte," said he, "on my faith as a prince, on my soul, +within a week I will tell you his name." + +"You swear it." + +"I swear it." + +"Well, monseigneur, you have a week; but----" said he, touching +the paper in his breast. + +"Come back in eight days." + +"Good! in eight days I shall have regained all my strength, ready +for vengeance." + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXII. + +A PROMENADE AT THE TOURNELLES. + +In course of time the Angevin gentlemen had returned to Paris, +although not with much confidence. They knew too well the king, +his brother, and mother, to hope that all would terminate in a +family embrace. They returned, therefore, timidly, and glided +into the town armed to the teeth, ready to fire on the least +suspicion, and drew their swords fifty times before the Hotel +d'Anjou on harmless bourgeois, who were guilty of no crime but +of looking at them. They presented themselves at the Louvre, +magnificently dressed in silk, velvet, and embroidery. Henri +III. would not receive them; they waited vainly in the gallery. +It was MM. Quelus, Maugiron, Schomberg, and D'Epernon who came to +announce this news to them, with great politeness, and expressing +all the regrets in the world. + +"Ah, gentlemen," said Antragues, "the news is sad, but, coming +from your mouths, it loses half its bitterness." + +"Gentlemen," said Schomberg, "you are the flower of grace and +courtesy. Would it please you to change the reception which you +have missed into a little promenade?" + +"Ah! gentlemen, we were about to propose it." + +"Where shall we go?" said Quelus. + +"I know a charming place near the Bastile," said Schomberg. + +"We follow you, go on." + +Then the eight gentlemen went out, arm in arm, talking gaily +on different subjects, until Quelus said, "Here is a solitary +place, with a good footing." + +"Ma foi, yes." + +"Well! we thought that you would one day accompany us here to +meet M. de Bussy, who has invited us all here." + +"It is true," said Bussy. + +"Do you accept?" said Maugiron. + +"Certainly; we rejoice at such an honor." + +"That is well," said Schomberg; "shall we each choose an opponent?" + +"No," said Bussy, "that is not fair; let us trust to chance, +and the first one that is free can join the others." + +"Let us draw lots then," said Quelus. + +"One moment," said Bussy, "first let us settle the rules of the +game." + +"They are simple; we will fight till death ensues!" + +"Yes, but how?" + +"With sword and dagger." + +"On foot?" + +"Oh, yes! on horseback one's movements are not so free." + +"Then, on foot." + +"What day?" + +"The soonest possible." + +"No," said D'Epernon, "I have a thousand things to settle and +a will to make; I would rather wait five or six days." + +"So be it." + +"Then draw lots." + +"One moment! divide the ground into four compartments, each for +a pair." + +"Well said." + +"I propose for number one, the long square between the chestnuts; +it is a fine place." + +"Agreed." + +"But the sun? one would be turned to the east." + +"No," said Bussy, "that is not fair;" and he proposed a new position, +which was agreed to. + +Schomberg and Ribeirac came first. They were the first pair; +Quelus and Antragues the second; then Livarot and Maugiron the +third. D'Epernon, who saw himself left to Bussy, grew very pale. + +"Now, gentlemen," said Bussy, "until the day of the combat, let +us be friends. Will you accept a dinner at the Hotel Bussy?" + +All agreed, and returned with Bussy to his hotel, where a sumptuous +banquet united them till morning. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIII. + +IN WHICH CHICOT SLEEPS. + +The movements of the young men had been remarked by the king +and Chicot. The king walked up and down, waiting impatiently for +his friends to return; but Chicot followed them at a distance, and +saw enough to be satisfied of their intentions. When he returned +to the house he found the king, walking up and down, muttering. + +"Ah! my dear friend! do you know what has become of them?" cried +Henri. + +"Whom? your minions?" + +"Alas! yes, my poor friends." + +"They must lie very low by this time." + +"Have they been killed?" cried Henri; "are they dead?" + +"Dead I fear----" + +"And you laugh, wretch?" + +"Oh! my son, dead drunk." + +"Oh! Chicot, how you terrified me. But why do you calumniate +these gentlemen?" + +"On the contrary, I praise them." + +"Be serious, I beg; do you know that they went out with the +Angevins?" + +"Of course, I know it." + +"What was the result?" + +"What I tell you; that they are dead drunk." + +"But Bussy!" + +"He is intoxicating them; he is a dangerous man." + +"Chicot, for pity's sake----" + +"Yes; Bussy has given a dinner to your friends; how do you like +that?" + +"Impossible! They are sworn enemies." + +"Have you good legs?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Will you go to the river?" + +"I would go to the end of the world to see such a thing." + +"Well! go only to the Hotel Bussy." + +"Will you accompany me?" + +"Thank you, I have just come from there." + +"But----" + +"Oh! no; I, who have seen, do not need to be convinced. Go, +my son, go. You disquiet yourself about your friends; you first +pity them as if they were dead, and when you hear they are not +dead, you are uneasy still----" + +"You are intolerable, M. Chicot." + +"Would you have preferred that they should each have had seven +or eight wounds by a rapier?" + +"I should like to be able to depend on my friends." + +"Oh! ventre de biche, depend upon me; I am here, my son, only +feed me. I want pheasant and truffles." + +Henri and his only friend went to bed early, the king still sighing. + +The next day, at the petite levee of the king, MM. Quelus, Schomberg, +Maugiron, and D'Epernon presented themselves. Chicot still slept. +The king jumped from his bed in a fury, and tearing off the perfumed +mask from his face, cried, "Go out from here." + +The young men looked at each other in wonder. + +"But, sire, we wished to say to your majesty----" + +"That you are no longer drunk, I suppose." + +Chicot opened his eyes. + +"Your majesty is in error," said Quelus, gravely. + +"And yet I have not drunk the wine of Anjou." + +"Oh! I understand," said Quelus, smiling. + +"What?" + +"If your majesty will remain alone with us, we will tell you." + +"I hate drunkards and traitors." + +"Sire," cried three of the gentlemen. + +"Patience, gentlemen," said Quelus, "his majesty has slept badly, +and had unpleasant dreams. A few words will set all right." + +"Speak then, but be brief." + +"It is possible, sire, but difficult." + +"Yes; one turns long round certain accusations." + +"No, sire, we go straight to it," replied Quelus, looking again +at Chicot and the usher, as though to reiterate his request that +they might be left alone. The king signed to the usher to leave +the room, but Chicot said, "Never mind me, I sleep like a top," and +closing his eyes again, he began to snore with all his strength. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIV. + +WHERE CHICOT WAKES. + +"Your majesty," said Quelus, "knows only half the business, and +that the least interesting half. Assuredly, we have all dined +with M. de Bussy, and to the honor of his cook, be it said, dined +well. There was, above all, a certain wine from Austria or Hungary, +which really appeared to me marvelous. But during the repast, +or rather after it, we had the most serious and interesting +conversation concerning your majesty's affairs." + +"You make the exordium very long." + +"How talkative you are, Valois!" cried Chicot. + +"Oh! oh! M. Gascon," said Henri, "if you do not sleep, you must +leave the room." + +"Pardieu, it is you who keep me from sleeping, your tongue clacks +so fast." + +Quelus, seeing it was impossible to speak seriously, shrugged +his shoulders, and rose in anger. + +"We were speaking of grave matters," said he. + +"Grave matters?" + +"Yes," said D'Epernon, "if the lives of eight brave gentlemen +are worth the trouble of your majesty's attention." + +"What does it mean, my son?" said Henri, placing his hand on Quelus's +shoulder. + +"Well, sire, the result of our conversation was, that royalty +is menaced--weakened, that is to say, that all the world is +conspiring against you. Sire, you are a great king, but you have +no horizon before you; the nobility have raised so many barriers +before your eyes, that you can see nothing, if it be not the +still higher barriers that the people have raised. When, sire, +in battle one battalion places itself like a menacing wall before +another, what happens? Cowards look behind them, and seeing an +open space, they fly; the brave lower their heads and rush on." + +"Well, then forward!" cried the king, "mordieu! am I not the +first gentleman in my kingdom? Were they not great battles that +I fought in my youth? Forward, then, gentlemen, and I will take +the lead; it is my custom in the melee." + +"Oh! yes, sire," cried the young men, with one voice. + +"And," said Quelus, "against these ramparts which are closing +round your majesty, four men will march, sure to be applauded +by you, and glorified by posterity." + +"What do you mean, Quelus?" cried the king, with eyes in which +joy was tempered by solicitude; "who are these four men?" + +"I, and these other gentlemen," replied Quelus, with pride; "we +devote ourselves, sire." + +"To what?" + +"To your safety." + +"Against whom?" + +"Against your enemies." + +"Private enmities of young men?" + +"Oh! sire, that is the expression of vulgar prejudice; speak like +a king, sire, not like a bourgeois. Do not profess to believe +that Maugiron detests Antragues, that Schomberg dislikes Livarot, +that D'Epernon is jealous of Bussy, and that I hate Ribeirac. +Oh! no. They are all young, and agreeable, and might love each +other like brothers: it is not, therefore, a rivalry between +man and man, which places the swords in our hands; it is the +quarrel of France with Anjou, the dispute as to the rights of +the populace against the prerogatives of the king. We present +ourselves as champions of royalty in those lists, where we shall +be met by the champions of the League, and we came to say, 'Bless +us, sire, smile on those who are going to die for you.' Your +blessing will, perhaps, give us the victory, your smile will make +us die happy." + +Henri, overcome with emotion, opened his arms to Quelus and the +others. He united them in his heart; and it was not a spectacle +without interest, a picture without expression, but a scene in +which manly courage was allied to softer emotions, sanctified by +devotion. Chicot looked on, and his face, ordinarily indifferent +or sarcastic, was not the least noble and eloquent of the six. + +"Ah!" cried the king, "I am proud to-day, not of being King of +France, but of being your friend; at the same time, as I know +my own interests best, I will not accept a sacrifice, of which +the result will deliver me up, if you fall, into the hands of +my enemies. France is enough to make war on Anjou; I know my +brother, the Guises, and the League, and have often conquered +more dangerous foes." + +"But, sire, soldiers do not reason thus, they never take ill luck +into their calculations." + +"Pardon me, Maugiron; a soldier may act blindly, but the captain +reflects." + +"Reflect, then, sire, and let us act, who are only soldiers," +said Schomberg: "besides, I know no ill luck; I am always +successful." + +"Friend, friend," said the king, sadly, "I wish I could say as +much. It is true, you are but twenty." + +"Sire," said Quelus, "on what day shall we meet MM. Bussy, Livarot, +Antragues and Ribeirac?" + +"Never; I forbid it absolutely." + +"Sire, excuse us, the rendezvous was arranged before the dinner, +words were said which cannot be retracted." + +"Excuse me, monsieur," said Henri, "the king absolves from oaths +and promises by saying, 'I will, or I will not,' for the king +is all-powerful. Tell these gentlemen, therefore, that I have +menaced you with all my anger it you come to blows; and that +you may not doubt it yourselves, I swear to exile you, if----" + +"Stop! sire; do not swear; because, if for such a cause we have +merited your anger, and this anger shows itself by exiling us, +we will go into exile with joy, because, being no longer on your +majesty's territories, we can then keep our promises, and meet +our adversaries." + +"If these gentlemen approach you within range of an arquebuse, +I will throw them all into the Bastile." + +"Sire, if you do so we will all go barefooted, and with cords +round our necks, to M. Testu, the governor, and pray to be +incarcerate with them." + +"I will have them beheaded, then; I am king, I hope." + +"We will cut our throats at the foot of their scaffold." + +Henri kept silent for a long time; then, raising his eyes, said, +"God will surely bless a cause defended by such noble hearts." + +"Yes, they are noble hearts," said Chicot, rising; "do what they +wish, and fix a day for their meeting. It is your duty, my son." + +"Oh I mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" murmured Henri. + +"Sire, we pray you," cried all the four gentlemen, bending their +knees. + +"Well! so be it. Let us trust that God will give us the victory. +But let us prepare for the conflict in a Christian manner. If I +had time, I would send all your swords to Rome, that the Pope +might bless them. But we have the shrine of St. Genevieve, which +contains most precious relics: let us fast, and do penance, and +keep holy the great day of the Fete Dieu, and then the next day----" + +"Ah! sire, thanks; that is in eight days!" cried the young men. + +And they seized the hands of the king, who embraced them all once +more, and, going into his oratory, melted into tears. + +"Our cartel is ready," said Quelus, "we have but to add the day +and hour. Write, Maugiron, the day after the Fete Dieu. Here +is a table." + +"It is done," said Maugiron, "now who will carry the letter?" + +"I will, if you please," said Chicot, approaching, "but I wish +to give you a piece of advice. His majesty speaks of fasts and +macerations. That is all very well after the combat, but before, +I prefer good nourishment, generous wine, and eight hours' sleep +every night." + +"Bravo, Chicot!" + +"Adieu, my little lions," replied the Gascon, "I go to the Hotel +Bussy." He went three steps and returned, and said, "Apropos, do +not quit the king during the Fete Dieu; do not go to the country, +any of you, but stay by the Louvre. Now, I will do your commission." + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXV. + +THE FETE DIEU. + +During these eight days events were preparing themselves, as a +tempest gathers in the heavens during the calm days of summer. +Monsoreau had an attack of fever for twenty-four hours, then +he rallied, and began to watch, himself; but as he discovered +no one, he became more than ever convinced of the hypocrisy of +the Duc d'Anjou, and of his bad intentions with regard to Diana. + +Bussy did not discontinue his visits by day, but, warned by Remy +of this constant watchfulness, came no more at night to the window. + +Chicot divided his time between the king, whom he watched like a +child, and his friend Gorenflot, whom he had persuaded to return +to his convent. He passed hours with him in his cell, always +bringing with him large bottles in his pocket, and the report +begin to be spread that Gorenflot had nearly persuaded him to +turn monk. + +As for the king, he gave constant lessons in fencing to his friends, +teaching them new thrusts, and, above all, exercising D'Epernon, to +whom fate had given so skilful an adversary, that he was visibly +preoccupied by it. + +Any one walking in the streets of Paris at certain hours, might +have met the strange monks, of whom our first chapters furnished +some description, and who resembled troopers more than monks. +Then, to complete the picture, we must add that the Hotel de Guise +had become at once mysterious and turbulent, the most peopled +within and the most deserted without that can be imagined; that +meetings were held every night in the great hall, and with all the +blinds and windows hermetically closed, and that these meetings +were preceded by dinners, to which none but men were invited, +and which were presided over by Madame de Montpensier. Of all +these meetings, however, important though they were, the police +suspected nothing. On the morning of the great day, the weather +was superb, and the flowers which filled the streets sent their +perfumes through the air. Chicot, who for the last fortnight had +slept in the king's room, woke him early; no one had yet entered +the royal chamber. + +"Oh, Chicot!" cried the king, "you have woke me from one of the +sweetest dreams I ever had in my life." + +"What was it, my son?" + +"I dreamed that Quelus had run Antragues through the body, and +was swimming in the blood of his adversary. Let us go and pray +that my dream may be realized. Call, Chicot, call." + +"What do you want?" + +"My hair-cloth and my scourge." + +"Would you not prefer a good breakfast?" + +"Pagan, would you go to hear mass on the Fete Dieu with a full +stomach?" + +"Even so." + +"Call, Chicot." + +"Patience; it is scarcely eight o'clock, and you will have plenty +of time to scourge yourself. Let us talk first. Converse with +your friend; you will not repent it, Valois, on the faith of +a Chicot." + +"Well, talk; but be quick." + +"How shall we divide our day, my son?" + +"Into three parts." + +"In honor of the Trinity; very well, let me hear these three parts." + +"First, mass at St. Germain l'Auxerrois." + +"Well?" + +"Return to the Louvre, for a collation." + +"Very good." + +"Then, a procession of penitents through the streets, stopping +at the principal convente of Paris, beginning at the Jacobine +and finishing at St. Genevieve, where I have promised the prior +to stay till to-morrow in the cell of a saint, who will pray +for the success of our arms." + +"I know him." + +"The saint?" + +"Yes, perfectly." + +"So much the better; you shall accompany me, and we will pray +together." + +"Yes; make yourself easy." + +"Then dress yourself, and come." + +"Wait a little." + +"What for?" + +"I have more to ask." + +"Be quick, then, for time passes." + +"What is the court to do?" + +"Follow me." + +"And your brother?" + +"Will accompany me." + +"Your guard?" + +"The French guard wait for me at the Louvre, and the Swiss at +the door of the Abbey." + +"That will do; now I know all." + +"Then I may call?" + +"Yes." + +Henri struck on his gong. + +"The ceremony will be magnificent," said Chicot. + +"God will accept our homage, I hope." + +"But tell me, Henri, before any one comes in, have you nothing +else to say to me?" + +"No, I have given you all the details." + +"Have you settled to sleep at St. Genevieve?" + +"Doubtless." + +"Well, my son, I do not like that part of the program." + +"How so?" + +"When we have dined I will tell you another plan that has occurred +to me." + +"Well, I consent." + +"Whether you consent or not, it will be all the same thing." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Hush! here are your valets." + +As he spoke, the ushers opened the door, and the barber, perfumer, +and valet of the king entered, and commenced to execute upon his +majesty one of those toilets which we have described elsewhere. +When the king was dressing, the Duc d'Anjou was announced. He was +accompanied by M. de Monsoreau, D'Epernon, and Aurilly. Henri, +at the sight of Monsoreau, still pale and looking more frightful +than ever, could not repress a movement of surprise. + +"You have been wounded, comte, have you not?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"At the chase, they told me." + +"Yes sire." + +"But you are better now?" + +"I am well." + +"Sire," said the duke, "would it please you that, after our +devotions, M, de Monsoreau should go and prepare a chase for us +in the woods of Compiegne?" + +"But do you not know that to-morrow----" + +He was going to say, "Four of your friends are to fight four of +mine;" but he stopped, for he remembered that it was a secret. + +"I know nothing," said the duke; "but if your majesty will inform +me----" + +"I meant that, as I am to pass the night at the Abbey of St. +Genevieve, I should perhaps not be ready for to-morrow; but let +the count go; if it be not to-morrow, it shall be the day after." + +"You hear?" said the duke to Monsoreau. + +"Yes monseigneur." + +At this moment Quelus and Schomberg entered. The king received +them with open arms. + +Monsoreau said softly to the duke, "You exile me, monseigneur." + +"Is it not your duty to prepare the chase for the king?" + +"I understand--this is the last of the eight days fixed by your +highness, and you prefer sending me to Compiegne to keeping your +promise." + +"No, on the contrary; I keep my promise." + +"Explain yourself." + +"Your departure will be publicly known." + +"Well?" + +"Well, do not go, but hide near your house; then, believing you +gone, the man you wish to know will come; the rest concerns yourself: +I engage for no more." + +"Ah! if that be so----" + +"You have my word." + +"I have better than that, I have your signature." + +"Oh, yes, mordieu! I know that." + +Aurilly touched D'Epernon's arm and said, "It is done; Bussy will +not fight to-morrow." + +"Not fight!" + +"I answer for it." + +"Who will prevent it?" + +"Never mind that." + +"If it be so, my dear sorcerer, there are one thousand crowns +for you." + +"Gentlemen," said the king, who had finished his toilet, "to St. +Germain l'Auxerrois." + +"And from there to St. Genevieve?" asked the duke. + +"Certainly," replied Henri, passing into the gallery where all +his court were waiting for him. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVI. + +WHICH WILL ELUCIDATE THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. + +The evening before M. de Monsoreau had returned to his home from +the Hotel Guise, and had found Bussy there. Then, in his friendship +for this brave gentleman, he had taken him aside, and said: + +"Will you permit me to give you a piece of advice?" + +"Pray do." + +"If I were you, I should leave Paris to-morrow." + +"I! and why so?" + +"All that I can tell you is, that your absence may save you from +great embarrassment." + +"How so?" + +"Are you ignorant of what is to take place to-morrow?" + +"Completely." + +"On your honor?" + +"On my word as a gentleman." + +"M. d'Anjou has confided nothing to you?" + +"Nothing; M. d'Anjou confides nothing to me beyond what all the +world knows." + +"Well! I, who am not the Duc d'Anjou, who love my friends for +their own sakes, and not for mine, I will tell you, my dear count, +that he is preparing for grave events to-morrow, and that the +parting of Guise and Anjou meditate a stroke which may end in +the fall of the king." + +Bussy looked at M. de Monsoreau with suspicion, but his whole +manner expressed so much sincerity that it was impossible to +doubt him. + +"Count," replied he, "my sword belongs to the Duc d'Anjou. The +king, against whom I have done nothing, hates me, and has never +let slip an occasion of doing or saying something wounding to +me; and to-morrow I tell you--but you alone, remember--I am about +to risk my life to humiliate Henri de Valois in the person of +his favorites." + +"Then you are resolved to risk all the consequences of your adherence +to the duke?" + +"Yes." + +"You know where it may lead you?" + +"I know where I will stop; whatever complaints I have against +the king, I will never lift a hand against him; but I will let +others do what they like, and I will follow M. d'Anjou to protect +him in case of need." + +"My dear comte," said Monsoreau, "the Duc d'Anjou is perfidious +and a traitor; a coward, capable, from jealous or fear, of +sacrificing his most faithful servant--his most devoted friend; +abandon him, take a friend's counsel, pass the day in your little +house at Vincennes, go where you like, except to the procession +of the Fete Dieu." + +"But why do you follow the duke yourself?" + +"For reasons which concern my honor. I have need of him for a +little while longer." + +"Well! that is like me; for things which concern my honor I must +follow the duke." + +The Comte de Monsoreau pressed his hand, and they parted. + +The next morning Monsoreau announced to his wife his approaching +departure for Compiegne, and gave all the necessary orders. Diana +heard the news with joy. She knew from her husband of the duel +which was arranged between Bussy and D'Epernon, but had no fear +for the result, and looked forward to it with pride. Bussy had +presented himself in the morning to the Duc d'Anjou, who, seeing +him so frank, loyal, and devoted, felt some remorse; but two +things combated this return of good feeling--firstly, the great +empire Bussy had over him, as every powerful mind has over a +weak one, and which annoyed him; and, secondly, the love of Bussy +for Diana, which awoke all the tortures of jealousy in his heart. +Monsoreau, it was true, inspired him with equal dislike and fear, +but he thought, "Either Bussy will accompany me and aid my triumph, +and then if I triumph, I do not care for Monsoreau, or Bussy will +abandon me, and then I owe him nothing, and I will abandon him in +return." + +When they were in the church, the duke saw Remy enter, and going +up to his master, slide a note into his hand. + +"It is from her," thought he; "she sends him word that her husband +is leaving Paris." + +Bussy put the note into his hat, opened, and read it, and the +prince saw his face radiant with joy and love. The duke looked +round; if Monsoreau had been there, perhaps he would not have +had patience to wait till the evening to denounce Bussy. + +The mass over, they returned to the Louvre, where a collation +waited for the king in his room, and for his gentlemen in the +gallery. On entering the Louvre, Bussy approached the duke. + +"Pardon, monseigneur," said he, "but can I say two words to you?" + +"Are you in a hurry?" + +"Very much so." + +"Will it not do during the procession? we shall walk side by side." + +"Monseigneur must excuse me, but what I wished to ask is, that +I need not accompany you." + +"Why so?" + +"Monseigneur, to-morrow is a great day, and I would wish to retire +to-day to my little house at Vincennes." + +"Then you do not join the procession with the king and court?" + +"No, monseigneur, if you will excuse me." + +"Will you not rejoin me at St. Genevieve?" + +"Monseigneur, I wish to have the whole day to myself." + +"But if anything should occur when I have need of my friends?" + +"As monseigneur would only want me to draw my sword against my +king, it is a double reason for excusing myself," replied Bussy; +"my sword is engaged against M. d'Epernon." + +Monsoreau had told the duke the night before that he might reckon +on Bussy; this change, therefore, must have been occasioned by +Diana's note. + +"Then," said the duke, "you abandon your chief and master?" + +"Monseigneur, he who is about to risk his life in a bloody duel, +as ours will be, has but one master, and it is to Him my last +devotions will be paid." + +"You know that I am playing for a throne, and you leave me." + +"Monseigneur, I have worked enough for you; I will work again +to-morrow, do not ask me for more than my life." + +"It is well!" said the duke, in a hollow voice, "you are free; +go, M. de Bussy." + +Bussy, without caring for the prince's evident anger, ran down +the staircase of the Louvre, and went rapidly to his own house. + +The duke called Aurilly. "Well! he has condemned himself," said +he. + +"Does he not follow you?" + +"No." + +"He goes to the rendezvous?" + +"Yes." + +"Then it is for this evening?" + +"It is." + +"Is M. de Monsoreau warned?" + +"Of the rendezvous--yes; but not yet of the man." + +"Then you have decided to sacrifice the count?" + +"I have determined to revenge myself; I fear now but one thing." + +"What is that?" + +"That Monsoreau will trust to his strength, and that Bussy will +escape him." + +"Reassure yourself, monseigneur." + +"Why?" + +"Is M. de Bussy irrevocably condemned?" + +"Yes, mordieu! A man who dictates to me--who takes away from me +her whom I was seeking for--who is a sort of lion, of whom I am +less the master than the keeper--yes, Aurilly, he is condemned +without mercy." + +"Well, then, be easy, for if he escape Monsoreau, he will not +escape from another." + +"And who is that?" + +"Does your highness order me to name him?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"It is M. d'Epernon." + +"D'Epernon! who was to fight him to-morrow?" + +"Yes, monseigneur." + +"How is that?" + +Aurilly was about to reply, when the duke was summoned; for the +king was at table, and had sent for his brother. + +"You shall tell me during the procession," said the duke. + +We will now tell our readers what had passed between Aurilly +and D'Epernon. They had long known each other, for Aurilly had +taught D'Epernon to play on the lute, and, as he was fond of +music, they were often together. He called upon Aurilly to tell +him of his approaching duel, which disquieted him not a little. +Bravery was never one of D'Epernon's prominent qualities, and +he looked on a duel with Bussy as certain death. When Aurilly +heard it, he told D'Epernon that Bussy practised fencing every +morning with an artist, lately arrived, who was said to have +borrowed from all nations their best points, until he had become +perfect. During this recital D'Epernon grew livid with terror. + +"Ah! I am doomed," said he. + +"Well?" + +"But it is absurd to go out with a man who is sure to kill me." + +"You should have thought of that before making the engagement." + +"Peste! I will break the engagement." + +"He is a fool who gives up his life willingly at twenty-five. +But, now I think of it----" + +"Well." + +"M. de Bussy is sure to kill me." + +"I do not doubt it." + +"Then it will not be a duel, but an assassination." + +"Perhaps so." + +"And if it be, it is lawful to prevent an assassination by----" + +"By?" + +"A murder." + +"Doubtless." + +"What prevents me, since he wishes to kill me, from killing him +first?" + +"Oh, mon Dieu! nothing; I thought of that myself." + +"It is only natural." + +"Very natural." + +"Only, instead of killing him with my own hands, I will leave +it to others." + +"That is to say, you will hire assassins?" + +"Ma foi! yes, like M. de Guise for St. Megrim." + +"It will cost you dear." + +"I will give three thousand crowns." + +"You will only get six men for that, when they know who they have +to deal with." + +"Are not six enough?" + +"M. de Bussy would kill four before they touched him. Do you remember +the fight in the Rue St. Antoine?" + +"I will give six thousand; if I do the thing, I will take care +he does not escape." + +"Have you your men?" + +"Oh, there are plenty of unoccupied men-soldiers of fortune." + +"Very well; but take care." + +"Of what?" + +"If they fail they will denounce you." + +"I have the king to protect me." + +"That will not hinder M. de Bussy from killing you." + +"That is true." + +"Should you like an auxiliary?" + +"I should like anything which would aid me to get rid of him." + +"Well, a certain enemy of your enemy is jealous." + +"And he is now laying a snare for him?" + +"Ah!" + +"Well?" + +"But he wants money; with your six thousand crowns he will take +care of your affair as well as his own. You do not wish the honor. +of the thing to be yours, I suppose?" + +"Mon Dieu! no; I only ask to remain in obscurity." + +"Send your men, and he will use them." + +"But I must know who it is." + +"I will show you in the morning." + +"Where?" + +"At the Louvre." + +"Then he is noble?" + +"Yes:" + +"Aurilly, you shall have the six thousand crowns." + +"Then it is settled?" + +"Irrevocably." + +"At the Louvre, then?" + +"Yes, at the Louvre." + +We have seen in the preceding chapter how Aurilly said to D'Epernon, +"Be easy, Bussy will not fight to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVII. + +THE PROCESSION. + +As soon as the collation was over, the king had entered his room +with Chicot, to put on his penitent's robe and had come out an +instant after, with bare feet, a cord round his waist, and his hood +over his face; the courtiers had made the same toilet. The weather +was magnificent, and the pavements were strewn with flowers; an +immense crowd lined the roads to the four places where the king +was to stop. The clergy of St. Germain led the procession, and +the Archbishop of Paris followed, carrying the holy sacrament; +between them walked young boys, shaking censers, and young girls +scattering roses. Then came the king, followed by his four friends, +barefooted and frocked like himself. + +The Duc d'Anjou followed in his ordinary dress, accompanied by +his Angevins. Next came the principal courtiers, and then the +bourgeois. It was one o'clock when they left the Louvre. Crillon +and the French guards were about to follow, but the king signed +to them to remain. It was near six in the evening before they +arrived before the old abbey, where they saw the prior and the +monks drawn up on the threshold to wait for his majesty. The +Duc d'Anjou, a little before, had pleaded great fatigue, and +had asked leave to retire to his hotel, which had been granted +to him. His gentlemen had retired with him, as if to proclaim +that they followed the duke and not the king, besides which, +they did not wish to fatigue themselves before the morrow. At +the door of the abbey the king dismissed his four favorites, +that they also might take some repose. The archbishop also, who +had eaten nothing since morning, was dropping with fatigue, so +the king took pity on him and on the other priests and dismissed +them all. Then, turning to the prior, Joseph Foulon, "Here I am, +my father," said he; "I come, sinner as I am, to seek repose in +your solitude." + +The prior bowed, and the royal penitent mounted the steps of +the abbey, striking his breast at each step, and the door was +immediately closed behind him. + +"We will first," said the prior, "conduct your majesty into the +crypt, which we have ornamented in our best manner to do honor +to the King of heaven and earth." + +No sooner had the king passed through the somber arcade, lined +with monks, and turned the corner which led to the chapel, than +twenty hoods were thrown into the air, and eyes were seen brilliant +with joy and triumph. Certainly, they were not monkish or peaceful +faces displayed, but bristling mustaches and embrowned skins, many +scarred by wounds, and by the side of the proudest of all, who +displayed the most celebrated scar, stood a woman covered with +a frock, and looking triumphant and happy. This woman, shaking +a pair of golden scissors which hung by her side, cried: + +"Ah! my brothers, at last we have the Valois!" + +"Ma foi, sister, I believe so." + +"Not yet," murmured the cardinal. + +"How so?" + +"Shall we have enough bourgeois guards to make head against Crillon +and his guards?" + +"We have better than bourgeois guards; and, believe me, there +will not be a musket-shot exchanged." + +"How so?" said the duchess. "I should have liked a little +disturbance." + +"Well, sister, you will be deprived of it. When the king is taken +he will cry out, but no one will answer; then, by persuasion or +by violence, but without showing ourselves, we shall make him +sign his abdication. The news will soon spread through the city, +and dispose in our favor both the bourgeois and the troops." + +"The plan is good, and cannot fail," said the duchess. "It is +rather brutal," said the Duc de Guise; "besides which, the king +will refuse to sign the abdication. He is brave, and will rather +die." + +"Let him die, then." + +"Not so," replied the duke, firmly. "I will mount the throne of +a prince who abdicates and is despised, but not of an assassinated +man who is pitied. Besides, in your plans you forget M. le Duc +d'Anjou, who will claim the crown." + +"Let him claim, mordieu!" said Mayenne; "he shall be comprised +in his brother's act of abdication. He is in connection with +the Huguenots, and is unworthy to reign." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Pardieu! did he not escape from the Louvre by the aid of the +King of Navarre?" + +"Well?" + +"Then another clause in favor of our house shall follow; this +clause shall make you lieutenant-general of the kingdom, from +which to the throne is only a step." + +"Yes, yes," said the cardinal, "all that is settled; but it is +probable that the French guards, to make sure that the abdication +is a genuine one, and above all, a voluntary one, will insist +upon seeing the king, and will force the gates of the abbey if +they are not admitted. Crillon does not understand joking, and +he is just the man to say to the king, 'Sire, your life is in +danger; but, before everything, let us save our honor.'" + +"The general has taken his precautions. If it be necessary to +sustain a siege, we have here eighty gentlemen, and I have +distributed arms to a hundred monks. We could hold out for a +month against the army; besides, in case of danger, we have the +cave to fly to with our prey." + +"What is the Duc d'Anjou doing?" + +"In the hour of danger he has failed, as usual. He has gone home, +no doubt, waiting for news of us, through Bussy or Monsoreau." + +"Mon Dieu! he should have been here; not at home." + +"You are wrong, brother," said the cardinal; "the people and +the nobles would have seen in it a snare to entrap the family. +As you said just now, we must, above all things, avoid playing +the part of usurper. We must inherit. By leaving the Duc d'Anjou +free, and the queen-mother independent, no one will have anything +to accuse us of. If we acted otherwise, we should have against +us Bussy, and a hundred other dangerous swords." + +"Bah! Bussy is going to fight against the king's minions." + +"Pardieu! he will kill them, and then he will join us," said +the Duc de Guise; "he is a superior man, and one whom I much +esteem, and I will make him general of the army in Italy, where +war is sure to break out." + +"And I," said the duchess, "if I become a widow, will marry him." + +"Who is near the king?" asked the duke. + +"The prior and Brother Gorenflot." + +"Is he in the cell?" + +"Oh no! he will look first at the crypt and the relics." + +At this moment a bell sounded. + +"The king is returning," said the Duc de Guise; "let us become +monks again." And immediately the hoods covered ardent eyes and +speaking scars, and twenty or thirty monks, conducted by the +three brothers, went towards the crypt. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVIII. + +CHICOT THE FIRST. + +The king visited the crypt, kissed the relics-often striking +his breast, and murmuring the most doleful psalms. At last the +prior said, "Sire, will it please you now to depose your earthly +crown at the feet of the eternal king?" + +"Let us go!" said the king. + +They arrived at the cell, on the threshold of which stood Gorenflot, +his eyes brilliant as carbuncles. + +Henri entered. "Hic portus salutis!" murmured he. + +"Yes," replied Foulon. + +"Leave us!" said Gorenflot, with a majestic gesture; and immediately +the door shut, and they were left alone. + +"Here you are, then, Herod! pagan! Nebuchadnezzar!" cried Gorenflot, +suddenly. + +"Is it to me you speak, my brother?" cried the king, in surprise. + +"Yes, to you. Can one accuse you of anything so bad, that it is +not true?" + +"My brother!" + +"Bah! you have no brother here. I have long been meditating a +discourse, and now you shall have it. I divide it into three +heads. First, you are a tyrant; second, you are a satyr; third, +you are dethroned." + +"Dethroned!" + +"Neither more or less. This abbey is not like Poland, and you +cannot fly." + +"Ah! a snare!" + +"Oh, Valois, learn that a king is but a man." + +"You are violent, my brother." + +"Pardieu! do you think we imprison you to flatter you?" + +"You abuse your religious calling." + +"There is no religion." + +"Oh, you are a saint, and say such things!" + +"I have said it." + +"You speak dreadfully, my brother." + +"Come, no preaching; are you ready?" + +"To do what?" + +"To resign your crown; I am charged to demand it of you." + +"You are committing a mortal sin." + +"Oh! I have right of absolution, and I absolve myself in advance. +Come, renounce, Brother Valois." + +"Renounce what?" + +"The throne of France." + +"Rather death!" + +"Oh! then you shall die! Here is the prior returning. Decide!" + +"I have my guards--my friends; they will defend me." + +"Yes, but you will be killed first." + +"Leave me at least a little time for reflection." + +"Not an instant!" + +"Your zeal carries you away, brother," said the prior, opening +the door; and saying to the king, "Your request is granted," +he shut it again. + +Henri fell into a profound reverie. "I accept the sacrifice," +he said, after the lapse of ten minutes. + +"It is done--he accepts!" cried Gorenflot. + +The king heard a murmur of joy and surprise. + +"Read him the act," said a voice, and a monk passed a paper to +Gorenflot. + +Gorenflot read it to the king, who listened with his head buried +in his hands. + +"If I refuse to sign?" cried he, shedding tears. + +"It will be doubly your ruin," said the Duc de Guise, from under +his hood. "Look on yourself as dead to the world, and do not +force your subjects to shed the blood of a man who has been their +king." + +"I will not be forced." + +"I feared so," said the duke to his sister. Then, turning to his +brother, "Let everyone arm and prepare," said he. + +"For what?" cried the king, in a miserable tone. + +"For anything." + +The king's despair redoubled. + +"Corbleu!" cried Gorenflot, "I hated you before, Valois, but now +I despise you! Sign, or you shall perish by my hand!" + +"Have patience," said the king; "let me pray to my divine Master +for resignation." + +"He wishes to reflect again," said Gorenflot. + +"Give him till midnight," said the cardinal. + +"Thanks, charitable Christian!" cried the king: + +"His brain is weak," said the duke; "we serve France by dethroning +him." + +"I shall have great pleasure in clipping him!" said the duchess. + +Suddenly a noise was heard outside, and soon they distinguished +blows struck on the door of the abbey, and Mayenne went to see +what it was. "My brothers," said he, "there is a troop of armed +men outside." + +"They have come to seek him," said the duchess. + +"The more reason that he should sign quickly." + +"Sign, Valois, sign!" roared Gorenflot. + +"You gave me till midnight," said the king, piteously. + +"Ah! you hoped to be rescued." + +"He shall die if he does not sign!" cried the duchess. Gorenflot +offered him the pen. The noise outside redoubled. + +"A new troop!" cried a monk; "they are surrounding the abbey!" + +"The Swiss," cried Foulon, "are advancing on the right!" + +"Well, we will defend ourselves; with such a hostage in our hands, +we need not surrender." + +"He has signed!" cried Gorenflot, tearing the paper from Henri, +who buried his face in his hands. + +"Then you are king!" cried the cardinal to the duke; "take the +precious paper." + +The king overturned the little lamp which alone lighted the scene, +but the duke already held the parchment. + +"What shall we do?" said a monk. "Here is Crillon, with his guards, +threatening to break in the doors!" + +"In the king's name!" cried the powerful voice of Crillon. + +"There is no king!" cried Gorenflot through the window. + +"Who says that?" cried Crillon. + +"I! I!" + +"Break in the doors, Monsieur Crillon!" said, from outside, a +voice which made the hair of all the monks, real and pretended, +stand on end. + +"Yes, sire," replied Crillon, giving a tremendous blow with a +hatchet on the door. + +"What do you want?" said the prior, going to the window. + +"Ah! it is you, M. Foulon," replied the same voice, "I want my +jester, who is in one of your cells. I want Chicot, I am ennuye +at the Louvre." + +"And I have been much amused, my son," said Chicot, throwing +off his hood, and pushing his way through the crowd of monks, +who recoiled, with a cry of terror. + +At this moment the Duc de Guise, advancing to a lamp, read the +signature obtained with so much labor. It was "Chicot I." + +"Chicot!" cried he; "thousand devils!" + +"Let us fly!" said the cardinal, "we are lost." + +"Ah!" cried Chicot, turning to Gorenflot, who was nearly fainting, +and he began to strike him with the cord he had round his waist. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIX. + +INTEREST AND CAPITAL. + +As the king spoke and the conspirators listened, they passed +from astonishment to terror. Chicot I. relinquished his role +of apparent terror, threw back his hood, crossed his arms, and, +while Gorenflot fled at his utmost speed, sustained, firm and +smiling, the first shock. It was a terrible moment, for the +gentlemen, furious at the mystification of which they had been +the dupes, advanced menacingly on the Gascon. But this unarmed +man, his breast covered only by his arms--this laughing face, +stopped them still more than the remonstrance of the cardinal, +who said to them that Chicot's death could serve no end, but, +on the contrary, would be terribly avenged by the king, who was +the jester's accomplice in this scene of terrible buffoonery. + +The result was, that daggers and rapiers were lowered before Chicot, +who continued to laugh in their faces. + +However, the king's menaces and Crillon's blows became more vehement, +and it was evident that the door could not long resist such an +attack. Thus, after a moment's deliberation, the Duc de Guise +gave the order for retreat. This order made Chicot smile, for, +during his nights with Gorenflot, he had examined the cave and +found out the door, of which he had informed the king, who had +placed there Torquenot, lieutenant of the Swiss guards. It was +then evident that the leaguers, one after another, were about +to throw themselves into the trap. The cardinal made off first, +followed by about twenty gentlemen. Then Chicot saw the duke +pass with about the same number, and afterwards Mayenne. When +Chicot saw him go he laughed outright. Ten minutes passed, during +which he listened earnestly, thinking to hear the noise of the +leaguers sent back into the cave, but to his astonishment, the +sound continued to go further and further off. His laugh began to +change into oaths. Time passed, and the leaguers did not return; +had they seen that the door was guarded and found another way +out? Chicot was about to rush from the cell, when all at once +the door was obstructed by a mass which fell at his feet, and +began to tear its hair. + +"Ah! wretch that I am!" cried the monk. "Oh! my good M. Chicot, +pardon me, pardon me!" + +How did Gorenflot, who went first, return now alone? was the question +that presented itself to Chicot's mind. + +"Oh! my good M. Chicot!" he continued to cry, "pardon your unworthy +friend, who repents at your knees." + +"But how is it you have not fled with the others?" + +"Because the Lord in His anger has struck me with obesity, and +I could not pass where the others did. Oh! unlucky stomach! Oh! +miserable paunch!" cried the monk, striking with his two hands +the part he apostrophized. "Ah! why am not I thin like you, M. +Chicot?" + +Chicot understood nothing of the lamentations of the monk. + +"But the others are flying, then?" cried he, in a voice of thunder. + +"Pardieu! what should they do? Wait to be hung? Oh! unlucky paunch!" + +"Silence, and answer me." + +"Interrogate me, M. Chicot; you have the right." + +"How are the others escaping?" + +"As fast as they can." + +"So I imagine; but where?" + +"By the hole." + +"Mordieu! what hole?" + +"The hole in the cemetery cellar." + +"Is that what you call the cave?" + +"Oh! no; the door of that was guarded outside. The great cardinal, +just as he was about to open it, heard a Swiss say, 'Mich dwistel,' +which means, 'I am thirsty.'" + +"Ventre de biche! so then they took another way?" + +"Yes, dear M. Chicot, they are getting out through the cellar." + +"How does that run?" + +"From the crypt to the Porte St. Jacques." + +"You lie; I should have seen them repass before this cell." + +"No, dear M. Chicot; they thought they had not time for that, +so they are creeping out through the air-hole." + +"What hole?" + +"One which looks into the garden, and serves to light the cellar." + +"So that you----" + +"I was too big, and could not pass, and they drew me back by my +legs, because I intercepted the way for the others." + +"Then he who is bigger than you?" + +"He! who?" + +"Oh! Holy Virgin, I promise you a dozen wax candles, if he also +cannot pass." + +"M. Chicot!" + +"Get up." + +The monk raised himself from the ground as quickly as he could. + +"Now lead me to the hole." + +"Where you wish." + +"Go on, then, wretch." + +Gorenflot went on as fast as he was able, while Chicot indulged +himself by giving him a few blows with the cord. They traversed +the corridor, and descended into the garden. + +"Here! this way," said Gorenflot. + +"Hold your tongue, and go on." + +"There it is," and exhausted by his efforts, the monk sank on the +grass, while Chicot, hearing groans, advanced, and saw something +protruding through the hole. By the side of this something lay +a frock and a sword. It was evident that the individual in the +hole had taken off successively all the loose clothing which +increased his size; and yet, like Gorenflot, he was making useless +efforts to get through. + +"Mordieu! ventrebleu! sangdien!" cried a stifled voice. "I would +rather pass through the midst of the guards. Do not pull so hard, +my friends; I shall come through gradually; I feel that I advance, +not quickly, it is true, but I do advance." + +"Ventre de biche!" murmured Chicot, "it is M. de Mayenne. Holy +Virgin, you have gained your candles." + +And he made a noise with his feet like some one running fast. + +"They are coming," cried several voices from inside. + +"All!" cried Chicot, as if out of breath, "it is you, miserable +monk!" + +"Say nothing, monseigneur!" murmured the voices, "he takes you +for Gorenflot." + +"Ah! it is you, heavy mass--pondus immobile; it is you, indigesta +moles!" + +And at each apostrophe, Chicot, arrived at last at his desired +vengeance, let fall the cord with all the weight of his arm on +the body before him. + +"Silence!" whispered the voices again; "he takes you for Gorenflot." + +Mayenne only uttered groans, and made immense efforts to get through. + +"Ah! conspirator!" cried Chicot again; "ah! unworthy monk, this +is for your drunkenness, this for idleness, this for anger, this +for greediness, and this for all the vices you have." + +"M. Chicot, have pity," whispered Gorenflot. + +"And here, traitor, this is for your treason," continued Chicot. + +"Ah! why did it not please God to substitute for your vulgar +carcass the high and mighty shoulders of the Duc de Mayenue, +to whom I owe a volley of blows, the interest of which has been +accumulating for seven years!" + +"Chicot!" cried the duke. + +"Yes, Chicot, unworthy servant of the king, who wishes he had +the hundred arms of Briareus for this occasion." + +And he redoubled his blows with such violence, that the sufferer, +making a tremendous effort, pushed himself through, and fell +torn and bleeding into the arms of his friends. Chicot's last +blow fell into empty space. He turned, and saw that the true +Gorenflot had fainted with terror. + + + + +CHAPTER XC. + +WHAT WAS PASSING NEAR THE BASTILE WHILE CHICOT WAS PAYING HIS +DEBT TO Y. DE MAYENNE. + +It was eleven at night, and the Duc d'Anjou was waiting impatiently +at home for a messenger from the Duc le Guise. He walked restlessly +up and down, looking every minute at the clock. All at once he +heard a horse in the courtyard, and thinking it was the messenger, +he ran to the window, but it was a groom leading up and down a +horse which was waiting for its master, who almost immediately +came out. It was Bussy, who, as captain of the duke's guards, +came to give the password for the night. The duke, seeing this +handsome and brave young man, of whom he had never had reason +to complain, experienced an instant's remorse, but on his face +he read so much joy, hope, and happiness, that all his jealousy +returned. However, Bussy, ignorant that the duke was watching +him, jumped into his saddle and rode off to his own hotel, where +he gave his horse to the groom. There he saw Remy. + +"Ah! you Remy?" + +"Myself, monsieur." + +"Not yet in bed?" + +"I have just come in. Indeed, since I have no longer a patient, +it seems to me that the days have forty-eight hours." + +"Are you ennuye?" + +"I fear so." + +"Then Gertrude is abandoned?" + +"Perfectly." + +"You grew tired?" + +"Of being beaten. That was how her love showed itself." + +"And does your heart not speak for her to-night?" + +"Why to-night?" + +"Because I would have taken you with me." + +"To the Bastile?" + +"Yes." + +"You are going there?" + +"Yes." + +"And Monsoreau?" + +"Is at Compiegne, preparing a chase for the king." + +"Are you sure, monsieur?" + +"The order was given publicly this morning." + +"Ah, well; Jourdain, my sword." + +"You have changed your mind?" + +"I will accompany you to the door, for two reasons." + +"What are they?" + +"Firstly, lest you should meet any enemies." Bussy smiled. + +"Oh! mon Dieu, I know you fear no one, and that Remy the doctor +is but a poor companion; still, two men are not so likely to be +attacked as one. Secondly, because I have a great deal of good +advice to give you." + +"Come, my dear Remy, come. We will speak of her; and next to +the pleasure of seeing the woman you love, I know none greater +than talking of her." + +Bussy then took the arm of the young doctor, and they set off. Remy +on the way tried hard to induce Bussy to return early, insisting +that he would be more fit for his duel on the morrow. + +Bussy smiled. "Fear nothing," said he. + +"Ah! my dear master, to-morrow you ought to fight like Hercules +against Antaeus--like Theseus against the Minotaur--like Bayard--like +something Homeric, gigantic, impossible; I wish people to speak +of it in future times as the combat, par excellence, and in which +you had not even received a scratch." + +"Be easy, my dear Remy, you shall see wonders. This morning I +put swords in the hands of four fencers, who during eight minutes +could not touch me once, while I tore their doublets to pieces." + +So conversing, they arrived in the Rue St. Antoine. + +"Adieu! here we are," said Bussy. + +"Shall I wait for you?" + +"Why?" + +"To make sure that you will return before two o'clock, and have +at least five or six hours' sleep before your duel." + +"If I give you my word?" + +"Oh! that will be enough; Bussy's word is never doubted." + +"You have it then." + +"Then, adieu, monsieur." + +"Adieu, Remy." + +Remy watched, and saw Bussy enter, not this time by the window, +but boldly through the door, which Gertrude opened for him. Then +Remy turned to go home; but he had only gone a few steps, when +he saw coming towards him five armed men, wrapped in cloaks. +When they arrived about ten yards from him, they said good night +to each other, and four went off in different directions, while +the fifth remained stationary. + +"M. de St. Luc!" said Remy. + +"Remy!" + +"Remy, in person. Is it an indiscretion to ask what your lordship +does at this hour so far from the Louvre?" + +"Ma foi! I am examining, by the king's order, the physiognomy +of the city. He said to me, 'St. Luc, walk about the streets of +Paris, and if you hear any one say I have abdicated, contradict +him.'" + +"And have you heard it?" + +"Nowhere; and as it is just midnight, and I have met no one but +M. de Monsoreau, I have dismissed my friends, and am about to +return." + +"M. de Monsoreau?" + +"Yes." + +"You met him?" + +"With a troop of armed men; ten or twelve at least." + +"Impossible!" + +"Why so?" + +"He ought to be at Compiegne." + +"He ought to be, but he is not." + +"But the king's order?" + +"Bah! who obeys the king?" + +"Did he know you?" + +"I believe so." + +"You were but five?" + +"My four friends and I." + +"And he did not attack you?" + +"On the contrary, he avoided me, which astonished me, as on seeing +him, I expected a terrible battle." + +"Where was he going?" + +"To the Rue de la Tixanderie." + +"Ah! mon Dieu!" + +"What?" + +"M. de St. Luc, a great misfortune is about to happen." + +"To whom?" + +"To M. de Bussy." + +"Bussy! speak, Remy; I am his friend, you know." + +"Oh! M. de Bussy thought him at Compiegne." + +"Well?" + +"And, profiting by his absence, is with Madame de Monsoreau." + +"Ah!" + +"Do you not see? he has had suspicions, and has feigned to depart, +that he might appear unexpectedly." + +"Ah! it is the Duc d'Anjou's doing, I believe. Have you good lungs, +Remy?" + +"Corbleu! like a blacksmith's bellows." + +"Well! let us run. You know the house?" + +"Yes." + +"Go on then." And the young men set off like hunted deer. + +"Is he much in advance of us?" said Remy. + +"About a quarter of an hour." + +"If we do but arrive in time!" + + + + +CHAPTER XCI. + +THE ASSASSINATION. + +Bussy, himself without disquietude or hesitation, had been received +by Diana without fear, for she believed herself sure of the absence +of M. de Monsoreau. Never had this beautiful woman been more +beautiful, nor Bussy more happy. She was moved, however, by fears +for the morrow's combat, now so near, and she repeated to him, +again and again, the anxiety she felt about it, and questioned +him as to the arrangements he had made for flight. To conquer +was not all; there was afterwards the king's anger to avoid, +for it was not probable that he would ever pardon the death or +defeat of his favorites. + +"And then," said she, "are you not acknowledged to be the bravest +man in France? Why make it a point of honor to augment your glory? +You are already superior to other men, and you do not wish to +please any other woman but me, Louis. Therefore, guard your life, +or rather--for I think there is not a man in France capable of +killing you, Louis--I should say, take care of wounds, for you may +be wounded. Indeed, it was through a wound received in fighting +with these same men, that I first made your acquaintance." + +"Make yourself easy," said Bussy, smiling; "I will take care of +my face--I shall not be disfigured." + +"Oh, take care of yourself altogether. Think of the grief you +would experience if you saw me brought home wounded and bleeding, +and that I should feel the same grief on seeing your blood. Be +prudent, my too courageous hero--that is all I ask. Act like +the Roman of whom you read to me the other day: let your friends +fight, aid the one who needs it most, but if three men--if two +men attack you, fly; you can turn, like Horatius, and kill them +one after another." + +"Yes, my dear Diana." + +"Oh, you reply without hearing me, Louis; you look at me, and +do not listen." + +"But I see you, and you are beautiful." + +"Do not think of my beauty just now! Mon Dieu! it is your life +I am speaking of. Stay, I will tell you something that will make +you more prudent--I shall have the courage to witness this duel." + +"You!" + +"I shall be there." + +"Impossible, Diana!" + +"No; listen. There is, in the room next to this, a window looking +into a little court, but with a side-view of the Tournelles." + +"Yes, I remember--the window from which I threw crumbs to the +birds the other day." + +"From there I can have a view of the ground; therefore, above +all things, take care to stand so that I can see you; you will +know that I am there, but do not look at me, lest your enemy +should profit by it." + +"And kill me, while I had my eyes fixed upon you. If I had to +choose my death, Diana, that is the one I should prefer." + +"Yes; but now you are not to die, but live." + +"And I will live; therefore tranquilize yourself, Diana. Besides, +I am well seconded--you do not know my friends; Antragues uses +his sword as well as I do, Ribeirac is so steady on the ground +that his eyes and his arms alone seem to be alive, and Livarot +is as active as a tiger. Believe me, Diana, I wish there were +more danger, for there would be more honor." + +"Well, I believe you, and I smile and hope; but listen, and promise +to obey me." + +"Yes, if you do not tell me to leave." + +"It is just what I am about to do. I appeal to your reason." + +"Then you should not have made me mad." + +"No nonsense, but obedience--that is the way to prove your love." + +"Order, then." + +"Dear friend, you want a long sleep; go home." + +"Not already." + +"Yes, I am going to pray for you." + +"Pray now, then." + +As he spoke, a pane of the window flew into pieces, then the +window itself, and three armed men appeared on the balcony while +a fourth was climbing over. This one had his face covered with +a mask, and held in his right hand a sword, and in his left a +pistol. + +Bussy remained paralyzed for a moment by the dreadful cry uttered +by Diana at this sight. The masked man made a sign, and the three +others advanced. Bussy put Diana back, and drew his sword. + +"Come, my brave fellows!" said a sepulchral voice from under the +mask; "he is already half-dead with fear." + +"You are wrong," said Bussy; "I never feel fear." + +Diana drew near him. + +"Go back, Diana," said he. But she threw herself on his neck. +"You will get me killed," said he; and she drew back. + +"Ah!" said the masked man, "it is M. de Bussy, and I would not +believe it, fool that I was! Really, what a good and excellent +friend! He learns that the husband is absent, and has left his +wife alone, and fears she may be afraid, so he comes to keep +her company, although on the eve of a duel. I repeat, he is a +good and excellent friend!" + +"Ah! it is you, M. de Monsoreau!" said Bussy; "throw off your +mask." + +"I will," said he, doing so. + +Diana uttered another cry; the comte was as pale as a corpse, +but he smiled like a demon. + +"Let us finish, monsieur," said Bussy; "it was very well for +Homer's heroes, who were demigods, to talk before they fought; +but I am a man--attack me, or let me pass." + +Monsoreau replied by a laugh which made Diana shudder, but raised +Bussy's anger. + +"Let me pass!" cried he. + +"Oh, oh!" + +"Then, draw and have done; I wish to go home and I live far off." + +During this time two other men mounted into the balcony. + +"Two and four make six," said Bussy, "where are the others?" + +"Waiting at the door." + +Diana fell on her knees, and in spite of her efforts Bussy heard +her sobs. + +"My dear comte," said he, "you know I am a man of honor." + +"Yes, you are, and madame is a faithful wife." + +"Good, monsieur; you are severe, but, perhaps, it is deserved; +only as I have a prior engagement with four gentlemen, I beg to +be allowed to retire to-night, and I pledge my word, you shall +find me again, when and where you will." + +Monsoreau shrugged his shoulders. + +"I swear to you, monsieur," said Bussy, "that when I have satisfied +MM. Quelus, Schomberg, D'Epernon, and Maugiron, I shall be at +your service. If they kill me, your vengeance will be satisfied, +and if not----" + +Monsoreau turned to his men. "On, my brave fellows," said he. + +"Oh!" said Bussy, "I was wrong; it is not a duel, but an +assassination." + +"Yes." + +"We were each deceived with regard to the other; but remember, +monsieur, that the Duc d'Anjou will avenge me." + +"It was he who sent me." + +Diana groaned. + +Instantaneously Bussy overturned the prie-Dieu, drew a table +towards him, and threw a chair over all, so that in a second he +had formed a kind of rampart between himself and his enemies. +This movement had been so rapid, that the ball fired at him from +the arquebuse only struck the prie-Dieu. Diana sobbed aloud. +Bussy glanced at her, and then at his assailants, crying, "Come +on, but take care, for my sword is sharp." + +The men advanced, and one tried to seize the prie-Dieu, but before +he reached it, Bussy's sword pierced his arm. The man uttered +a cry, and fell back. + +Bussy then heard rapid steps in the corridor, and thought he +was surrounded. He flew to the door to lock it, but before he +could reach it, it was opened, and two men rushed in. + +"Ah! dear master!" cried a well-known voice, "are we in time?" + +"Remy!" + +"And I?" cried a second voice, "it seems they are attempting +assassination here." + +"St. Luc!" cried Bussy, joyfully. "Ah! M. de Monsoreau, I think +now you will do well to let us pass, for if you do not, we will +pass over you." + +"Three more men," cried Monsoreau. And they saw three new assailants +appear on the balcony. + +"They are an army," cried St. Luc. + +"Oh! God protect him!" cried Diana. + +"Wretch!" cried Monsoreau, and he advanced to strike her. Bussy +saw the movement. Agile as a tiger, he bounded on him, and touched +him in the throat; but the distance was too great, it was only a +scratch. Five or six men rushed on Bussy, but one fell beneath +the sword of St. Luc. + +"Remy!" cried Bussy, "carry away Diana." + +Monsoreau uttered a yell and snatched a pistol from one of the +men. + +Remy hesitated. "But you?" said he. + +"Away! away! I confide her to you." + +"Come, madame," said Remy. + +"Never! I will never leave him." + +Remy seized her in his arms. + +"Bussy, help me! Bussy!" cried Diana. For any one who separated +her from Bussy, seemed an enemy to her. + +"Go," cried Bussy, "I will rejoin you." + +At this moment Monsoreau fired, and Bussy saw Remy totter, and +then fall, dragging Diana with him. Bussy uttered a cry, and +turned. + +"It is nothing, master," said Remy. "It was I who received the +ball. She is safe." + +As Bussy turned, three men threw themselves on him; St. Luc rushed +forward, and one of them fell. The two others drew back. + +"St. Luc," cried Bussy, "by her you love, save Diana." + +"But you?" + +"I am a man." + +St. Luc rushed to Diana, seized her in his arms, and disappeared +through the door. + +"Here, my men, from the staircase," shouted Monsoreau. + +"Ah! coward!" cried Bussy. + +Monsoreau retreated behind his men. Bussy gave a back stroke +and a thrust; with the first he cleft open a head, and with the +second pierced a breast. + +"That clears!" cried he. + +"Fly, master!" cried Remy. + +"Diana must save herself first," murmured he. + +"Take care," cried Remy again, as four men rushed in through the +door from the staircase. Bussy saw himself between two troops, +but his only cry was, "Ah! Diana!" + +Then, without losing a second, he rushed on the four men; and +taken by surprise, two fell, one dead, one wounded. + +Then, as Monsoreau advanced, he retreated again behind his rampart. + +"Push the bolts, and turn the key," cried Monsoreau, "we have +him now." During this time, by a great effort, Remy had dragged +himself before Bussy, and added his body to the rampart. + +There was an instant's pause. Bussy looked around him. Seven +men lay stretched on the ground, but nine remained. And seeing +these nine swords, and hearing Monsoreau encouraging them, this +brave man, who had never known fear, saw plainly before him the +image of death, beckoning him with its gloomy smile. + +"I may kill five more," thought he, "but the other four will +kill me. I have strength for ten minutes' more combat; in that +ten minutes let me do what man never did before." + +And rushing forward, he gave three thrusts, and three times he +pierced the leather of a shoulder-belt, or the buff of a jacket, +and three times a stream of blood followed. + +During this time he had parried twenty blows with his left arm, +and his cloak, which he had wrapped round it, was hacked to pieces. + +The men changed their tactics; seeing two of their number fall +and one retire, they renounced the sword, and some tried to strike +with the butt-ends of their muskets, while others fired at him +with pistols. He avoided the balls by jumping from side to side, +or by stooping; for he seemed not only to see, hear, and act, +but to divine every movement of his enemies, and appeared more +than a man, or only man because he was mortal. Then he thought +that to kill Monsoreau would be the best way to end the combat, +and sought him with his eyes among his assailants, but he stood +in the background, loading the pistols for his men. However, +Bussy rushed forward, and found himself face to face with him. +He, who held a loaded pistol, fired, and the ball, striking Bussy's +sword, broke it off six inches from the handle. + +"Disarmed!" cried Monsoreau. + +Bussy drew back, picking up his broken blade, and in an instant +it was fastened to the handle with a handkerchief; and the battle +recommenced, presenting the extraordinary spectacle of a man +almost without arms, but also almost without wounds, keeping six +enemies at bay, and with ten corpses at his feet for a rampart. +When the fight began again, Monsoreau commenced to draw away the +bodies, lest Bussy should snatch a sword from one of them. Bussy +was surrounded; the blade of his sword bent and shook in his +hand, and fatigue began to render his arm heavy, when suddenly, +one of the bodies raising itself, pushed a rapier into his hand. +It was Remy's last act of devotion. Bussy uttered a cry of joy, +and threw away his broken sword: at the same moment Monsoreau +fired at Remy, and the ball entered his brain. This time he fell +to rise no more. + +Bussy uttered a cry. His strength seemed to return to him, and +he whirled round his sword in a circle, cutting through a wrist +at his right hand, and laying open a cheek at his left. Exhausted +by the effort, he let his right arm fall for a moment, while +with his left he tried to undraw the bolts behind him. During +this second, he received a ball in his thigh, and two swords +touched his side. But he had unfastened the bolt, and turned +the key. Sublime with rage, he rushed on Monsoreau, and wounded +him in the breast. + +"Ah!" cried Bussy, "I begin to think I shall escape." The four +men rushed on him, but they could not touch him, and were repulsed +with blows. Monsoreau approached him twice more, and twice more +was wounded. But three men seized hold of the handle of his sword, +and tore it from him. He seized a stool of carved wood, and struck +three blows with it, and knocked down two men; but it broke on the +shoulder of the third, who sent his dagger into Bussy's breast. + +Bussy seized him by the wrist, forced the dagger from him, and +stabbed him to the heart. The last man jumped out of the window. +Bussy made two steps to follow him, but Monsoreau, raising himself +from the floor, where he was lying, wounded him in the leg with +his dagger. The young man seized a sword which lay near, and +plunged it so vigorously into his breast, that he pinned him to +the floor. + +"Ah!" cried Bussy, "I do not know if I shall live, but at least +I shall have seen you die!" + +Bussy dragged himself to the corridor, his wounds bleeding fearfully. +He threw a last glance behind him. The moon was shining brilliantly, +and its light penetrated this room inundated with blood, and +illuminated the walls pierced by balls, and hacked by blows, and +lighted up the pale faces of the dead, which even then seemed +to preserve the fierce look of assassins. + +Bussy, at the sight of this field of battle, peopled by him with +slain, nearly dying as he was, experienced a feeling of pride. +As he had intended, he had done what no man had done before him. +There now remained to him only to fly. + +But all was not over for the unfortunate young man. On arriving +on the staircase, he saw arms shine in the courtyard; some one +fired, and the ball pierced his shoulder. The court being guarded, +he thought of the little window, where Diana had said she would +sit to see the combat, and as quickly as he could he dragged +himself there, and locked the door behind him; then he mounted +the window with great difficulty, and measured the distance with +his eyes, wondering if he could jump to the other side. + +"Oh, I shall never have the strength!" cried he. + +But at that moment he heard steps coming up the staircase; it +was the second troop mounting. He collected all his strength, +and made a spring; but his foot slipped, and he fell on the iron +spikes, which caught his clothes, and he hung suspended. + +He thought of his only friend. + +"St. Luc!" cried he, "help! St. Luc!" + +"Ah, it is you, M. de Bussy," answered a voice from behind some +trees. + +Bussy shuddered, for it was not the voice of St. Luc. + +"St. Luc!" cried he again, "come to me! Diana is safe! I have +killed Monsoreau!" + +"Ah! Monsoreau is killed?" said the same voice. + +"Yes." Then Bussy saw two men come out from behind the trees. + +"Gentlemen," cried he, "in heaven's name, help an unfortunate +nobleman, who may still escape if you aid him." + +"What do you say, monseigneur?" said one. + +"Imprudent!" said the other. + +"Monseigneur," cried Bussy, who heard the conversation, "deliver +me, and I will pardon you for betraying me." + +"Do you hear?" said the duke. + +"What do you order?" + +"That you deliver him from his sufferings," said he, with a kind +of laugh. + +Bussy turned his head to look at the man who laughed at such a +time, and at the same instant an arquebuse was discharged into +his breast. + +"Cursed assassin! oh, Diana!" murmured he, and fell back dead. + +"Is he dead?" cried several men who, after forcing the door, appeared +at the windows. + +"Yes," said Aurilly. "But fly; remember that his highness the +Duc d'Anjou was the friend and protector of M. de Bussy." + +The men instantly made off, and when the sound of their steps +was lost, the duke said, "Now, Aurilly, go up into the room and +throw out of the window the body of Monsoreau." + +Aurilly obeyed, and the blood fell over the clothes of the duke, +who, however, raised the coat of the dead man, and drew out the +paper which he had signed. + +"This is all I wanted," said he; "so now let us go." + +"And Diana?" + +"Ma foi! I care no more for her. Untie her and St. Luc, and let +them go." + +Aurilly disappeared. + +"I shall not be king of France," murmured the duke, "but, at all +events, I shall not be beheaded for high treason." + + + + +CHAPTER XCII. + +HOW BROTHER GORENFLOT FOUND HIMSELF MORE THAN EVER BETWEEN A GALLOWS +AND AN ABBEY. + +The guard placed to catch the conspirators got none of them; +they all escaped, as we have seen; therefore, when Crillon at +last broke open the door, he found the place deserted and empty. +In vain they opened doors and windows; in vain the king cried, +"Chicot!" No one answered. + +"Can they have killed him?" said he. "Mordieu! if they have they +shall pay for it!" + +Chicot did not reply, because he was occupied in beating M. de +Mayenne, which gave him so much pleasure that he neither heard +nor saw what was passing. However, when the duke had disappeared, +he heard and recognized the royal voice. + +"Here, my son, here!" he cried, trying at the same time to raise +Gorenflot, who, beginning to recover himself, cried, "Monsieur +Chicot!" + +"You are not dead, then?" + +"My good M. Chicot, you will not give me up to my enemies?" + +"Wretch!" + +Gorenflot began to howl and wring his hands. + +"I, who have had so many good dinners with you," continued Gorenflot; +"I, who drank so well, that you always called me the king of +the sponges; I, who loved so much the capons you used to order +at the Corne d'Abondance, that I never left anything but the +bones." + +This climax appeared sublime to Chicot, and determined him to +clemency. + +"Here they are! Mon Dieu," cried Gorenflot, vainly trying to +rise, "here they come, I am lost! Oh! good M. Chicot, help me!" +and finding he could not rise, he threw himself with his face +to the ground. + +"Get up," said Chicot. + +"Do you pardon me?" + +"We shall see." + +"You have beaten me so much." + +Chicot laughed; the poor monk fancied he had received the blows +given to Mayenne. + +"You laugh, M. Chicot." + +"I do, animal." + +"Then I shall live?" + +"Perhaps." + +"You would not laugh if your Gorenflot was about to die." + +"It does not depend upon me, but on the king; he alone has the +power of life and death." + +At this moment lights appeared, and a crowd of embroidered dresses +and swords shining in the light of the torches. + +"Ah! Chicot! my dear Chicot, how glad I am to see you," cried +the king. + +"You hear, good M. Chicot," whispered Gorenflot, "this great prince +is glad to see you." + +"Well?" + +"Well! in his happiness he would not refuse you a favor; ask for +my pardon." + +"What! from Herod?" + +"Oh! silence, dear M. Chicot." + +"Well! sire, how many have you caught?" said Chicot, advancing. + +"Confiteor," said Gorenflot. + +"Not one," said Crillon, "the traitors must have found some opening +unknown to us." + +"It is probable." + +"But you saw them?" said the king. + +"All." + +"You recognized them, no doubt?" + +"No, sire." + +"Not recognized them?" + +"That is to say, I recognized only one." + +"Who was that?" + +"M. de Mayenne." + +"M. de Mayenne, to whom you owed----" + +"Yes, sire; we are quits." + +"Ah! tell me about that, Chicot." + +"Afterwards, my son; now let us think of the present." + +"Confiteor," repeated Gorenflot. + +"Ah! you have made a prisoner," said Crillon, laying his large +hand on the monk's shoulder. + +Chicot was silent for a minute, leaving Gorenflot a prey to all +the anguish of such profound terror that he nearly fainted again. + +At last Chicot said, "Sire, look well at this monk." + +"The preacher Gorenflot," cried Henri. + +"Confiteor, confiteor," repeated he. + +"Himself," said Chicot. + +"He who----" + +"Just so," interrupted Chicot. + +"Ah, ah!" + +Gorenflot shook with terror, for he heard the sounds of swords +clashing. + +"Wait," said Chicot, "the king must know all." And, taking him +aside, "My son," said he, "thank God for having permitted this +holy man to be born thirty-five years ago, for it is he who has +saved us all." + +"How so?" + +"It was he who recounted to me the whole plot, from the alpha +to the omega." + +"When?" + +"About a week ago; so that if ever your majesty's enemies catch +him he will be a dead man." + +Gorenflot heard only the last words, "a dead man"; and he covered +his face with his hands. + +"Worthy man," said the king, casting a benevolent look on the +mass of flesh before him, "we will cover him with our protection." + +Gorenflot perceived the nature of the look, and began to feel +relieved. + +"You will do well, my king," said Chicot. + +"What must we do with him?" + +"I think that as long as he remains in Paris he will be in danger." + +"If I gave him guards." + +Gorenflot heard this proposition of Henri's. "Well!" thought he, +"I shall get off with imprisonment; I prefer that to beating, +if they only feed me well." + +"Oh! no, that is needless," said Chicot, "if you will allow me +to take him with me." + +"Where?" + +"Home." + +"Well! take him, and then return to the Louvre." + +"Get up, reverend father," said Chicot. + +"He mocks me," murmured Gorenflot. + +"Get up, brute," whispered Chicot, giving him a sly kick. + +"Ah! I have deserved it," cried Gorenflot. + +"What does he say?" asked the king. + +"Sire, he is thinking over all his fatigues and his tortures, +and when I promised him your protection, he said, 'Oh! I have +well merited that.'" + +"Poor devil!" said the king, "take good care of him." + +"Oh! be easy, sire, he will want for nothing with me." + +"Oh! M. Chicot, dear M. Chicot," cried Gorenflot, "where am I +to be taken to?" + +"You will know soon. Meanwhile, monster of iniquity, thank his +majesty." + +"What for?" + +"Thank him, I tell you." + +"Sire," stammered Gorenflot, "since your gracious majesty----" + +"Yes," interrupted Henri, "I know all you did for me, in your +journey from Lyons, on the evening of the League, and again to-day. +Be easy, you shall be recompensed according to your merits." + +Gorenflot sighed. + +"Where is Panurge?" said Chicot. + +"In the stable, poor beast." + +"Well! go and fetch him, and return to me." + +"Yes, M. Chicot." + +And the monk went away as fast as he could, much astonished not +to be followed by guards. + +"Now, my son," said Chicot, "keep twenty men for your own escort, +and send ten with M. Crillon to the Hotel d'Anjou and let them +bring your-brother here." + +"Why?" + +"That he may not escape a second time." + +"Did my brother----" + +"Have you repented following my advice to-day?" + +"No, par le mordieu." + +"Then do what I tell you." + +Henri gave the order to Crillon, who set off at once. + +"And you?" said Henri. + +"Oh! I am waiting for my saint." + +"And you will rejoin me at the Louvre?" + +"In an hour; go, my son." + +Henri went; and Chicot, proceeding to the stables, met Gorenflot +coming out on his ass. The poor devil had not an idea of endeavoring +to escape from the fate that he thought awaited him. + +"Come, come," said Chicot, "we are waited for." Gorenflot made +no resistance, but he shed many tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XCIII. + +WHERE CHICOT GUESSES WHY D'EPERNON HAD BLOOD ON HIS FEET AND NONE +IN HIS CHEEKS. + +The king, returning to the Louvre, found his friends peacefully +asleep, except D'Epernon, whose bed was empty. + +"Not come in yet; how imprudent," murmured the king to Chicot, +who had also returned, and was standing with them by their beds. +"The fool; having to fight to-morrow with a man like Bussy, and +to take no more care than this. Let them seek M. d'Epernon," +said he, going out of the room, and speaking to an usher. + +"M. d'Epernon is just coming in, sire," replied the man. + +Indeed, D'Epernon came softly along, thinking to glide unperceived +to his room. + +On seeing the king he looked confused. + +"Ah! here you are at last," said Henri; "come here and look at +your friends. They are wise! they understand the importance of +the duel to-morrow; but you, instead of praying and sleeping +like them, have been running about the streets. Corbleu; how pale +you are! What will you look like to-morrow?" + +D'Epernon was indeed pale, but at the king's remark he colored. + +"Now go to bed," continued Henri, "and sleep if you can." + +"Why not?" + +"Much time you will have. You are to fight at daybreak; and at +this time of year the sun rises at four. It is now two; you have +but two hours to sleep." + +"Two hours well employed go a long way." + +"You will sleep, then?" + +"Well, sire!" + +"I do not believe it." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you are agitated; you think of to-morrow." + +"I will sleep, sire, if your majesty will only let me." + +"That is just," said Chicot. + +Indeed D'Epernon undressed and got into bed, with a calm and +satisfied look, that seemed, both to the king and Chicot to augur +well. + +"He is as brave as a Caesar," said the king. + +"So brave that I do not understand it," said Chicot. + +"See, he sleeps already." + +Chicot approached the bed to look. + +"Oh!" said he. + +"What is it?" + +"Look," and he pointed to D'Epernon's boots. + +"Blood!" + +"He has been walking in blood." + +"Can he be wounded?" said the king, anxiously. + +"Bah! he would have told us; and, besides, unless he had been +wounded like Achilles in the heel----" + +"See, the sleeve of his doublet is also spotted. What can have +happened to him?" + +"Perhaps he has killed some one to keep his hand in." + +"It is singular. Well, to-morrow, at least----" + +"To-day, you mean." + +"Well! to-day I shall be tranquil." + +"Why so?" + +"Because those cursed Angevins will be killed." + +"You think so, Henri?" + +"I am sure of it; my friends are brave." + +"I never heard that the Angevins were cowards." + +"No, doubtless; but my friends are so strong; look at Schomberg's +arm; what muscle!" + +"Ah! if you saw Autragues's! Is that all that reassures you?" + +"No; come, and I will show you something." + +"Where?" + +"In my room." + +"And this something makes you confident of victory?" + +"Yes." + +"Come, then." + +"Wait, and let me take leave of them. Adieu, my good friends," +murmured the king, as he stooped and imprinted a light kiss on +each of their foreheads. + +Chicot was not superstitious, but as he looked on, his imagination +pictured a living man making his adieux to the dead. + +"It is singular," thought he. "I never felt so before--poor fellows." + +As soon as the king quitted the room, D'Epernon opened his eyes; +and, jumping out of bed, began to efface, as well as he could, +the spots of blood on his clothes. Then he went to bed again. + +As for Henri, he conducted Chicot to his room, and opened a long +ebony coffer lined with white satin. + +"Look!" said he. + +"Swords!" + +"Yes! but blessed swords, my dear friend." + +"Blessed! by whom?" + +"By our holy father the Pope, who granted me this favor. To send +this box to Rome and back, cost me twenty horses and four men." + +"Are they sharp?" + +"Doubtless; but their great merit is that they are blessed." + +"Yes, I know that; but still I should like to be sure they are +sharp." + +"Pagan!" + +"Let us talk of something else." + +"Well, be quick." + +"You want to sleep?" + +"No, to pray." + +"In that case we will talk. Have you sent for M. d'Anjou?" + +"Yes, he is waiting below." + +"What are you going to do with him?" + +"Throw him into the Bastile." + +"That is very wise: only choose a dungeon that is deep and safe--such +for example, as those which were occupied by the Constable de +St. Paul, or Armagnac." + +"Oh! be easy." + +"I know where they sell good black velvet, my son." + +"Chicot! he is my brother." + +"Ah! true; the family mourning is violet. Shall you speak to him?" + +"Yes, certainly, if only to show him that his plots are discovered." + +"Hum!" + +"Do you disapprove?" + +"In your place I should cut short the conversation, and double +the imprisonment." + +"Let them bring here the Duc d'Anjou," said the king. + +A minute after the duke entered, very pale and disarmed. Crillon +followed him. + +"Where did you find him?" asked the king. + +"Sire, his highness was not at home, but I took possession of +his hotel in the king's name, and soon after he returned, and +we arrested him without resistance." + +"That is fortunate." Then, turning to the prince, he said, "Where +were you, monsieur?" + +"Wherever I was, sire, be sure it was on your business." + +"I doubt it." + +Francois bowed. + +"Come, tell me where you were while your accomplices were being +arrested." + +"My accomplices!" + +"Yes; your accomplices." + +"Sire, your majesty is making some mistake." + +"Oh! this time you shall not escape me; your measure of crime +is full." + +"Sire, be moderate; there is certainly some one who slanders me +to you." + +"Wretch! you shall die of hunger in a cell of the Bastile!" + +"I bow to your orders, whatever they may be." + +"Hypocrite! But where were you?" + +"Sire, I was serving your majesty, and working for the glory and +tranquillity of your reign." + +"Really! your audacity is great." + +"Bah!" said Chicot, "tell us about it, my prince; it must be +curious." + +"Sire, I would tell your majesty, had you treated me as a brother, +but as you have treated me as a criminal, I will let the event +speak for itself." + +Then, bowing profoundly to the king, he turned to Crillon and +the other officers, and said, "Now, which of you gentlemen will +conduct the first prince of the blood to the Bastile?" + +Chicot had been reflecting, and a thought struck him. + +"Ah!" murmured he, "I believe I guess now why M. d'Epernon had +so much blood on his feet and so little in his cheeks." + + + + +CHAPTER XCIV. + +THE MORNING OF THE COMBAT. + +The king did not sleep all night, and very early in the morning +he set off, accompanied by Chicot, to examine the ground where +the combat was to take place. + +"Quelus will be exposed to the sun," said he; "he will have it +at his right, just in his only eye; whereas Maugiron, who has +good eyes, will be in the shade. That is badly managed. As for +Schomberg, his place is good; but Quelus, my poor Quelus!" + +"Do not torment yourself so, my king, it is useless." + +"And D'Epernon; I am really unjust not to think of him; he, who +is to fight Bussy. Look at his place, Chicot, he who will have +to give way constantly, for Bussy is like a tiger, he has a tree +on his right and a ditch on his left." + +"Bah!" said Chicot, "I am not concerned about D'Epernon." + +"You are wrong; he will be killed." + +"Not he; be sure he has taken precautions." + +"How so?" + +"He will not fight." + +"Did you not hear what he said before going to bed?" + +"That is just why I think he will not fight." + +"Incredulous and distrustful!" + +"I know my Gascon, Henri; but if you will take my advice, you +will return to the Louvre." + +"Do you think I can stay there during the combat?" + +"I do not wish you not to love your friends, but I do wish you +not to leave M. d'Anjou alone at the Louvre." + +"Is not Crillon there?" + +"Crillon is only a buffalo--a rhinoceros--a wild boar; while +your brother is the serpent, whose strength lies in his cunning." + +"You are right; I should have sent him to the Bastile." + +When Chicot and the king entered, the young men were being dressed +by their valets. + +"Good morning, gentlemen," said he; "I find you all in good spirits, +I hope?" + +"Yes, sire," said Quelus. + +"You look gloomy, Maugiron." + +"Sire, I am superstitious, and I had bad dreams last night, so +I am drinking a little wine to keep up my spirits." + +"My friend, remember that dreams are the impressions of the previous +day, and have no influence on the morrow." + +"Yes, sire," said D'Epernon, "I also had bad dreams last night; +but, in spite of that, my hand is steady and fit for action." + +"Yes," said Chicot, "you dreamed you had blood on your boots; +that is not a bad dream, for it signifies that you will be a +conqueror, like Alexander or Caesar." + +"My friends," said Henri, "remember you fight only for honor; +the past night has seated me firmly on my throne, therefore do +not think of me; and, above all things, no false bravery; you +wish to kill your enemies, not to die yourselves." + +The gentlemen were now ready, and it only remained to take leave +of their master. + +"Do you go on horseback?" asked he. + +"No, sire, on foot." + +They each kissed his hand, and D'Epernon said, "Sire, bless my +sword." + +"Not so, D'Epernon; give up your sword--I have a better one for +each of you. Chicot, bring them here." + +"No, sire, send your captain of the guards; I am but a Pagan, +and they might lose their virtue by coming through my hands." + +"What are these swords, sire?" said Schomberg. + +"Italian swords, my son, forged at Milan." + +"Thanks, sire." + +"Now go, it is time," said the king, who could hardly control +his emotion. + +"Sire," said Quelus, "shall we not have your majesty's presence +to encourage us?" + +"No, that would not be right; you will be supposed to fight without +any one being cognizant of it, and without my sanction. Let it +appear to be the result of a private quarrel." + +When they were gone, the king threw himself down in tears. + +"Now," said Chicot, "I will go to see this duel, for I have an +idea that something curious will happen with regard to D'Epernon." +And he went off. + +Henri shut himself up in his own room, first saying to Crillon, +who knew what was to take place, "If we are conquerors, Crillon, +come and tell me; if not, strike three blows on the door." + + + + +CHAPTER XCV. + +THE FRIENDS OF BUSSY. + +The friends of the Duc d'Anjou had passed as good and tranquil a +night as those of the king, although their master had not taken +the same care of them. After a good supper, they had all retired +to sleep at Antragues's house, which was nearest to the field +of battle. Antragues, before supper, had gone to take leave of +a little milliner whom he adored, Ribeirac had written to his +mother, and Livarot had made his will. They were up early in the +morning, and dressed themselves in red breeches and socks, that +their enemies might not see their blood, and they had doublets +of gray silk. They wore shoes without heels, and their pages +carried their swords, that their arms might not be fatigued. + +The weather was splendid, for love, war, or walking; and the +sun gilded the roofs, on which the night dew was sparkling. The +streets were dry, and the air delightful. + +Before leaving the house, the young men had sent to the Hotel +d'Anjou to inquire for Bussy, and had received a reply that he +had gone out the evening before and had not yet returned. + +"Oh!" said Antragues, "I know where he is; the king ordered a +grand chase at Compiegne, and M. de Monsoreau was to set off +yesterday. It is all right, gentlemen; he is nearer the ground +than we are, and may be there before us. We will call for him +in passing." + +The streets were empty as they went along; no one was to be seen +except peasants coming from Montreuil or Vincennes, with milk +or vegetables. + +The young men went on in silence until they reached the Rue St. +Antoine. + +Then, with a smile, they glanced at Monsoreau's house. + +"One could see well from there, and I am sure poor Diana will +be more than once at the window," said Antragues. + +"I think she must be there already," said Ribeirac, "for the window +is open." + +"True, but what can be the meaning of that ladder before it?" + +"It is odd." + +"We are not the only ones to wonder," said Livarot, "see those +peasants, who are stopping their carts to look." + +The young men arrived under the balcony. "M. de Monsoreau," they +cried, "do you intend to be present at our combat? if so, be +quick, for we wish to arrive first." + +They waited, but no one answered. + +"Did you put up that ladder?" asked Antragues of a man who was +examining the ground. + +"God forbid!" replied he. + +"Why so?" + +"Look up." + +"Blood!" cried Ribeirac. + +"The door has been forced," said Antragues; and seizing the ladder, +he was on the balcony in a moment. + +"What is it?" cried the others, seeing him turn pale. + +A terrible cry was his only answer. Livarot mounted behind him. +"Corpses! death everywhere!" cried he. And they both entered +the room. It bore horrible traces of the terrible combat of the +previous night. A river of blood flowed over the room; and the +curtains were hanging in strips from sword cuts. + +"Oh! poor Remy!" cried Antragues, suddenly. + +"Dead!" + +"Yes." + +"But a regiment of troopers must have passed through the room," +cried Livarot. Then, seeing the door of the corridor open, and +traces of blood indicating that one or more of the combatants had +also passed through there, he followed it. Meanwhile, Antragues +went into the adjoining room; there also blood was everywhere, +and this blood led to the window. He leaned out and looked into +the little garden. The iron spikes still held the livid corpse +of the unhappy Bussy. At this sight, it was not a cry, but a +yell, that Antragues uttered. Livarot ran to see what it was, +and Ribeirac followed. + +"Look!" said Antragues, "Bussy dead! Bussy assassinated and thrown +out of window." + +They ran down. + +"It is he," cried Livarot. + +"His wrist is cut." + +"He has two balls in his breast." + +"He is full of wounds." + +"Ah! poor Bussy! we will have vengeance!" + +Turning round they came against a second corpse. + +"Monsoreau!" cried Livarot. + +"What! Monsoreau also." + +"Yes, pierced through and through." + +"Ah! they have assassinated all our friends." + +"And his wife? Madame de Monsoreau!" cried Antragues; but no one +answered. + +"Bussy, poor Bussy." + +"Yes, they wished to get rid of the most formidable of us all." + +"It is cowardly! it is infamous!" + +"We will tell the duke." + +"No," said Antragues, "let us not charge any one with the care +of our vengeance. Look, my friends, at the noble face of the +bravest of men; see his blood, that teaches that he never left +his vengeance to any other person. Bussy! we will act like you, +and we will avenge you." + +Then, drawing his sword, he dipped it in Bussy's blood. + +"Bussy," said he, "I swear on your corpse, that this blood shall +be washed off by the blood of your enemies." + +"Bussy," cried the others, "we swear to kill them or die." + +"No mercy," said Antragues. + +"But we shall be but three." + +"True, but we have assassinated no one, and God will strengthen +the innocent. Adieu, Bussy!" + +"Adieu, Bussy!" repeated the others; and they went out, pale +but resolute, from that cursed house, around which a crowd had +begun to collect. + +Arriving on the ground, they found their opponents waiting for +them. + +"Gentlemen," said Quelus, rising and bowing, "we have had the +honor of waiting for you." + +"Excuse us," said Antragues, "but we should have been here before +you, but for one of our companions." + +"M. de Bussy," said D'Epernon, "I do not see him. Where is he?" + +"We can wait for him," said Schomberg. + +"He will not come." + +All looked thunderstruck; but D'Epernon exclaimed: + +"Ah! the brave man par excellence--is he, then, afraid?" + +"That cannot be," said Quelus. + +"You are right, monsieur," said Livarot. + +"And why will he not come?" + +"Because he is dead." + +"Dead!" cried they all, but D'Epernon turned rather pale. + +"And dead because he has been assassinated," said Antragues. "Did +you not know it, gentlemen?" + +"No; how should we?" + +"Besides, is it certain?" + +Antragues drew his sword. "So certain that here is his blood," +said he. + +"M. de Bussy assassinated!" + +"His blood cries for vengeance! do you not hear it, gentlemen?" +said Ribeirac. + +"What do you mean?" + +"'Seek whom the crime profits,' the law says," replied Ribeirac. + +"Ah! gentlemen, will you explain yourselves?" cried Maugiron. + +"That is just what we have come for." + +"Quick! our swords are in our hands!" said D'Epernon. + +"Oh! you are in a great hurry, M. le Gascon; you did not crow +so loud when we were four against four!" + +"Is it our fault, if you are only three?" + +"Yes, it is your fault; he is dead because you preferred him +lying in his blood to standing here; he is dead, with his wrist +cut, that that wrist might no longer hold a sword; he is dead, +that you might not see the lightning of those eyes, which dazzled +you all. Do you understand me? am I clear?" + +"Enough, gentlemen!" said Quelus. "Retire, M. d'Epernon! we will +fight three against three. These gentlemen shall see if we are men +to profit by a misfortune which we deplore as much as themselves. +Come, gentlemen," added the young man, throwing his hat behind +him, and raising his left hand, while he whirled his sword with +the right, "God is our judge if we are assassins!" + +"Ah! I hated you before," cried Schomberg, "and now I execrate +you!" + +"On your guard, gentlemen!" cried Antragues. + +"With doublets or without?" said Schomberg. + +"Without doublets, without shirts; our breasts bare, our hearts +uncovered!" + +The young men threw off their doublets and shirts. + +"I have lost my dagger," said Quelus; "it must have fallen on +the road." + +"Or else you left it at M. de Monsoreau's, in the Place de la +Bastile," said Antragues. + +Quelus gave a cry of rage, and drew his sword. + +"But he has no dagger, M. Antragues," cried Chicot, who had just +arrived. + +"So much the worse for him; it is not my fault," said Antragues. + + + + +CHAPTER XCVI. + +THE COMBAT. + +The place where this terrible combat was to take place was +sequestered and shaded by trees. It was generally frequented +only by children, who came to play there during the day, or by +drunkards or robbers, who made a sleeping-place of it by night. + +Chicot, his heart palpitating, although he was not of a very +tender nature, seated himself before the lackeys and pages, on +a wooden balustrade. + +He did not love the Angevins, and detested the minions, but they +were all brave young men, and in their veins flowed a generous +blood, which he was probably destined to see flow before long. + +D'Epernon made a last bravado, "What! you are all afraid of me?" +he cried. + +"Hold your tongue," said Antragues. + +"Come away, bravest of the brave," said Chicot, "or else you will +lose another pair of shoes." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that there will soon be blood on the ground, and that +you will walk in it, as you did last night." + +D'Epernon became deadly pale, and, moving away, he seated himself +at some distance from Chicot. + +The combat began as five o'clock struck, and for a few minutes +nothing was heard but the clashing of swords; not a blow was +struck. At last Schomberg touched Ribeirac in the shoulder, and +the blood gushed out; Schomberg tried to repeat the blow, but +Ribeirac struck up his sword, and wounded him in the side. + +"Now let us rest a few seconds, if you like," said Ribeirac. + +Quelus, having no dagger, was at a great disadvantage; for he +was obliged to parry with his left arm, and, as it was bare, on +each occasion it cost him a wound. His hand was soon bleeding +in several places, and Antragues had also wounded him in the +breast; but at each wound he repeated, "It is nothing." + +Livarot and Maugiron were still unwounded. + +Ribeirac and Schomberg recommenced; the former was pierced through +the breast, and Schomberg was wounded in the neck. + +Ribeirac was mortally wounded, and Schomberg rushed on him and gave +him another; but he, with his right hand, seized his opponent's, +and with his left plunged his dagger into his heart. + +Schomberg fell back, dragging Ribeirac with him. Livarot ran to +aid Ribeirac to disengage himself from the grasp of his adversary, +but was closely pursued by Maugiron, who cut open his head with a +blow of his sword. Livarot let his sword drop, and fell on his +knees; then Maugiron hastened to give him another wound, and +he fell altogether. + +Quelus and Maugiron remained against Antragues. Quelus was bleeding, +but from slight wounds. + +Antragues comprehended his danger; he had not the least wound, +but he began to feel tired, so he pushed aside Quelus' sword and +jumped over a barrier; but at the same moment, Maugiron attacked +him behind; Antragues turned, and Quelus profited by this movement +to get under the barrier. + +"He is lost!" thought Chicot. + +"Vive le roi!" cried D'Epernon. + +"Silence, if you please, monsieur," said Antragues. At this instant +Livarot, of whom no one was thinking, rose on his knees, hideous +from the blood with which he was covered, and plunged his dagger +between the shoulders of Maugiron, who fell, crying out, "Mon +Dieu! I am killed!" + +Livarot fell back again, fainting. + +"M. de Quelus," said Antragues, "you are a brave man; yield--I +offer you your life." + +"And why yield?" + +"You are wounded, and I am not." + +"Vive le roi!" cried Quelus; "I have still my sword!" And he +rushed on Antragues, who parried the thrust, and, seizing his +arm, wrested his sword from him, saying, "Now you have it no +longer." + +"Oh, a sword!" cried Quelus; and, bounding like a tiger on Antragues, +he threw his arms round him. + +Antragues struck him with his dagger again and again, but Quelus +managed to seize his hands, and twisted round him like a serpent, +with arms and legs. Antragues, nearly suffocated, reeled and +fell, but on the unfortunate Quelus. He managed to disengage +himself, for Quelus' powers were failing him, and, leaning on +one arm, gave him a last blow. + +"Vive le r----" said Quelus, and that was all. The silence and +terror of death reigned everywhere. + +Antragues rose, covered with blood, but it was that of his enemy. + +D'Epernon made the sign of the cross, and fled as if he were pursued +by demons. + +Chicot ran and raised Quelus, whose blood was pouring out from +nineteen wounds. + +The movement roused him, and he opened his eyes. + +"Antragues," said he, "on my honor, I am innocent of the death +of Bussy." + +"Oh! I believe you, monsieur," cried Antragues, much moved. + +"Fly!" murmured Quelus; "the king will never forgive you." + +"I cannot abandon you thus, even to escape the scaffold." + +"Save yourself, young man," said Chicot; "do not tempt Providence +twice in one day." + +Antragues approached Ribeirac, who still breathed. + +"Well?" asked he. + +"We are victors," said Antragues, in a low tone, not to offend +Quelus. + +"Thanks," said Ribeirac; "now go." + +And he fainted again. + +Antragues picked up his own sword, which he had dropped, then +that of Quelus, which he presented to him. A tear shone in the +eyes of the dying man. "We might have been friends," he murmured. + +"Now fly," said Chicot; "you are worthy of being saved." + +"And my companions?" + +"I will take care of them, as of the king's friends." + +Antragues wrapped himself in a cloak which his squire handed +to him, so that no one might see the blood with which he was +covered, and, leaving the dead and wounded, he disappeared through +the Porte St. Antoine. + + + + +CHAPTER XCVII. + +THE END. + +The king, pale with anxiety, and shuddering at the slightest +noise, employed himself in conjecturing, with the experience of +a practised man, the time that it would take for the antagonists +to meet and that the combat would last. + +"Now," he murmured first, "they are crossing the Rue St. Antoine--now +they are entering the field--now they have begun." And at these +words, the poor king, trembling, began to pray. + +Rising again in a few minutes, he cried: + +"If Quelus only remembers the thrust I taught him! As for Schomberg, +he is so cool that he ought to kill Ribeirac; Maugiron, also, +should be more than a match for Livarot. But D'Epernon, he is +lost; fortunately he is the one of the four whom I love least. +But if Bussy, the terrible Bussy, after killing him, falls on +the others! Ah, my poor friends!" + +"Sire!" said Crillon, at the door. + +"What! already?" + +"Sire, I have no news but that the Duc d'Anjou begs to speak to +your majesty." + +"What for?" + +"He says that the moment has come for him to tell you what service +he rendered your majesty, and that what he has to tell you will +calm a part of your fears." + +"Well, let him come." + +At this moment they heard a voice crying, "I must speak to the +king at once!" + +The king recognized the voice, and opened the door. + +"Here, St. Luc!" cried he. "What is it? But, mon Dieu! what is +the matter? Are they dead?" + +Indeed, St. Luc, pale, without hat or sword, and spotted with +blood, rushed into the king's room. + +"Sire!" cried he, "vengeance! I ask for vengeance!" + +"My poor St. Luc, what is it? You seem in despair." + +"Sire, one of your subjects, the bravest, noblest, has been murdered +this night--traitorously murdered!" + +"Of whom do you speak?" + +"Sire, you do not love him, I know; but he was faithful, and, +if need were, would have shed all his blood for your majesty, +else he would not have been my friend." + +"Ah!" said the king, who began to understand; and something like +a gleam of joy passed over his face. + +"Vengeance, sire, for M. de Bussy!" + +"M. de Bussy?" + +"Yes, M. de Bussy, whom twenty assassins poniarded last night. +He killed fourteen of them." + +"M. de Bussy dead?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"Then he does not fight this morning?" + +St. Luc cast a reproachful glance on the king, who turned away +his head, and, in doing so, saw Crillon still standing at the +door. He signed to him to bring in the duke. + +"No, sire, he will not fight," said St. Luc; "and that is why +I ask, not for vengeance--I was wrong to call it so--but for +justice. I love my king, and am, above all things, jealous of +his honor, and I think that it is a deplorable service which +they have rendered to your majesty by killing M. de Bussy." + +The Duc d'Anjou had just entered, and St. Luc's words had enlightened +the king as to the service his brother had boasted of having +rendered him. + +"Do you know what they will say?" continued St. Luc. "They will +say, if your friends conquer, that it is because they first murdered +Bussy." + +"And who will dare to say that?" + +"Pardieu! everyone," said Crillon. + +"No, monsieur, they shall not say that," replied the king, "for +you shall point out the assassin." + +"I will name him, sire, to clear your majesty from so heinous +an accusation," said St. Luc. + +"Well! do it." + +The Duc d'Anjou stood quietly by. + +"Sire," continued St. Luc, "last night they laid a snare for +Bussy, while he visited a woman who loved him; the husband, warned +by a traitor, came to his house with a troop of assassins; they +were everywhere--in the street--in the courtyard, even in the +garden." + +In spite of his power over himself, the duke grew pale at these +last words. + +"Bussy fought like a lion, sire, but numbers overwhelmed him, +and--" + +"And he was killed," interrupted the king, "and justly; I will +certainly not revenge an adulterer." + +"Sire, I have not finished my tale. The unhappy man, after having +defended himself for more than half an hour in the room, after +having triumphed over his enemies, escaped, bleeding, wounded, +and mutilated: he only wanted some one to lend him a saving hand, +which I would have done had I not been seized by his assassins, +and bound, and gagged. Unfortunately, they forgot to take away +my sight as well as my speech, for I saw two men approach the +unlucky Bussy, who was hanging on the iron railings. I heard him +entreat them for help, for in these two men he had the right to +reckon on two friends. Well, sire, it is horrible to relate--it +was still more horrible to see and hear--one ordered him to be +shot, and the other obeyed." + +"And you know the assassins?" cried the king, moved in spite of +himself. + +"Yes," said St. Luc, and turning to the prince, with an expression +of intense hatred, he cried, "the assassin, sire, was the prince, +his friend." + +The duke stood perfectly quiet and answered, "Yes, M. de St. Luc +is right; it was I, and your majesty will appreciate my action, +for M. de Bussy was my servant; but this morning he was to fight +against your majesty." + +"You lie, assassin!" cried St. Luc. "Bussy, full of wounds, his +hands cut to pieces, a ball through his shoulder, and hanging +suspended on the iron trellis-work, might have inspired pity +in his most cruel enemies; they would have succored him. But +you, the murderer of La Mole and of Coconnas, you killed Bussy, +as you have killed, one after another, all your friends. You +killed Bussy, not because he was the king's enemy, but because +he was the confidant of your secrets. Ah! Monsoreau knew well +your reason for this crime." + +"Cordieu!" cried Crillon, "why am I not king?" + +"They insult me before you, brother," said the duke, pale with +terror. + +"Leave us, Crillon," said the king. The officer obeyed. + +"Justice, sire, justice!" cried St. Luc again. + +"Sire," said the duke, "will you punish me for having served your +majesty's friends this morning?" + +"And I," cried St. Luc, "I say that the cause which you espouse +is accursed, and will be pursued by the anger of God. Sire, when +your brother protects our friends, woe to them." The king shuddered. + +Then they heard hasty steps and voices, followed by a deep silence; +and then, as if a voice from heaven came to confirm St. Luc's +words, three blows were struck slowly and solemnly on the door +by the vigorous arm of Crillon. Henri turned deadly pale. + +"Conquered," cried he; "my poor friends!" + +"What did I tell you, sire?" cried St. Luc. "See how murder succeeds." + +But the king saw nothing, heard nothing; he buried his face in +his hands, and murmured. "Oh! my poor friends; who will tell +me about them?" + +"I, sire," said Chicot.--"Well!" cried Henri. + +"Two are dead, and the third is dying." + +"Which is the third?"--"Quelus." + +"Where is he?"--"At the Hotel Boissy." + +The king said no more, but rushed from the room. + +St. Luc had taken Diana home to his wife, and this had kept him +from appearing sooner at the Louvre. Jeanne passed three days +and nights watching her through the most frightful delirium. +On the fourth day, Jeaune, overcome by fatigue, went to take a +little rest: two hours after, when she returned, Diana was gone. + +Quelus died at the Hotel Boissy, in the king's arms, after lingering +for thirty days. + +Henri was inconsolable. He raised three magnificent tombs for +his friends, on which their effigies were sculptured, life-size, +in marble. He had innumerable masses said for them, and prayed +for their souls himself night and morning. For three months Chicot +never left his master. In September, Chicot received the following +letter, dated from the Priory of Beaume: + + +"DEAR M. CHICOT--The air is soft in this place, and the vintage +promises to be good this year. They say that the king, whose +life I saved, still grieves much. Bring him to the priory, dear +M. Chicot; we will give him wine of 1550, which I have discovered +in my cellar, and which is enough to make one forget the greatest +grief; for I find in the Holy Writ these words, 'Good wine rejoices +the heart of man.' It is in Latin. I will show it you. Come, +then, dear M. Chicot; come, with the king, M. d'Epernon, and M. +de St. Luc, and we will fatten them all. + +"The reverend prior, + +"DOM GORENFLOT, + +"Your humble servant and friend. + +"P.S.--Tell the king that I have not yet had time to pray for +the souls of his friends; but when the vintage is over; I shall +not fail to do so." + + +"Amen," said Chicot; "here are poor devils well recommended to +Heaven." + + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Chicot the Jester, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHICOT THE JESTER *** + +***** This file should be named 7426.txt or 7426.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/2/7426/ + +Produced by Robert J. Hall + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |