La Dame de Monsoreau (108 page)

" You have your men ? "

" Oh," replied D'Epernon, " I know plenty of fellows who have nothing to do, disbanded soldiers here and there, plucky rascals who are quite as good as the bravoes in Florence and Venice."

" Capital, but be cautious."

"Why?"

" If they fail, they '11 denounce you."

" But the King is on my side."

"It's something, but the King can't hinder M. de Bussy from killing you."

"True, perfectly true," said D'Epernon, thoughtfully.

" I think I could point out an arrangement that would make things safe."

" Tell it to me, my good friend."

"Would you have any objection to making common cause with another enemy of Bussy's ?"

" I should object to nothing that would double my chances and enable me to get rid of that mad dog."

" Well, a certain enemy of your enemy is jealous."

" Ah ! ah ! "

" So that, at this very hour " —

" Well, at this very hour — can't you finish ? "

" He is laying a snare for him."

" Go on.""

" But he lacks money. With six thousand crowns he could

easily manage to settle your business as well as his own. You are not anxious, I presume, to enjoy the credit of this bold stroke ? "

" Good God, no ! all I want is to be left in the background."

" Then have your men sent to the rendezvous, without letting them know you sent them, and he will turn them to account."

" But, though my men may not know me, I should certainly know this man."

" I will point him out to you this very morning."

« Where ? "

" In the Louvre."

" So he is a gentleman ? "

« Yes."

" Then you shall have the six thousand crowns immediately, Aurilly."

" So the matter is settled ? "

" Irrevocably."

" To the Louvre, then !"

"To the Louvre."

We have seen in the preceding chapter how Aurilly said to D'Epernon :

" M. de Bussy will not fight to-morrow."

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

THE PROCESSION.

WHEN the collation was finished, the King entered his room with Chicot, and, soon afterward, made his appearance in penitential garb, with bare feet, a cord around his waist, and a hood which was pulled down over his face.

During his absence the courtiers had made the same toilet.

The weather was magnificent, the pavements were strewn with flowers, and the splendor of the reposoirs was reported to be beyond description, especially that of the reposoir erected by the monks of Sainte Genevieve in the crypt of their chapel.

Immense crowds of people lined the way which led to the four stations that were to be made by the King at the Jacobins Carmelites, Capuchins, and Genevievans.

The clergy of Saint Germain-FAuxerrois headed the procession. The archbishop of Paris bore the blessed sacrament. Between the clergy and the archbishop young boys and girls walked backward, the former swinging censers, the latter scattering roses.

Then came the King with bare feet, as we have said, and followed by his four friends, barefooted also and robed in the same fashion.

The Due d'Anjou was next, but in his ordinary costume ; all his Angevine courtiers accompanied him, mingled with the great dignitaries of the crown, who marched behind the prince, each in the order assigned him by etiquette.

Then came the citizens and the populace.

It was already past one o'clock when they quitted the Louvre.

Crillon and the French guards wished to follow the King, but the latter signified by a gesture that it was not necessary, and so Crillon and his guards stayed behind to protect the palace.

It was not until nearly six in the evening that, after having made the stations at the different reposoirs, the head of the procession got a glimpse of the delicately carved porch of the ancient abbey and of the Genevievans, who, with their prior at their head, were drawn up on the three steps that formed the threshold to receive his Majesty.

Between the abbey and the last station, which had been made at the convent of the Capuchins, the Due d'Anjoti, who had been on his feet since morning, had discovered that he was utterly exhausted; he had, therefore requested the King to allow him to retire to his hotel; the King at once gave the required permission.

His gentlemen had immediately separated from the procession and followed him, as if to proclaim aloud that they belonged to the duke and not to the King.

But their real reason was that, as. three among them should have to fight the next day, they did not think it desirable to overtask the strength of these champions.

At the abbey gate, the King, apparently believing that Quelus, Maugiron, Schomberg, and D'fipernon were in as much need of rest as Livarot, Eibeirac, and Antraguet, dismissed them also.

The archbishop, who had been officiating since morning, and

who, as well as the other priests, had not broken his fast during the day, was sinking from fatigue ; the King took pity on the holy martyrs and allowed them to depart.

Then turning to the prior, Joseph Foulon :

" Holy father," said he, in his most nasal tones, " I have come to seek repose in youl secluded retreat, sinner though I am." ,

The prior inclined.

Then addressing those who, notwithstanding the discomforts of the journey, had followed him even to the end.

" Thank you, gentlemen," said he ; " go in peace."

Each saluted respectfully, and the royal penitent, beating his breast, slowly mounted the steps of the abbey.

He had scarcely passed the threshold when the gate was closed behind him.

So absorbed was the King in his devotions that, apparently, he did not notice this circumstance, in which, after all, there was nothing extraordinary, as he had dismissed his entire suite.

" We will first conduct your Majesty to the crypt," said the prior to the King, "which we have done our best to adorn in honor of the King of heaven and earth."

Henri merely made a gesture of assent and walked behind the prior.

But as soon as he had passed through the gloomy arcade, lined on each side by two rows of monks as still as statues, as soon as he was seen to turn the corner that led to the chapel, twenty hoods were thrown back, and eyes could be discerned in the faint light that were aglow with joy and triumphant pride.

For a certainty, the countenances that were now revealed did not belong to idle, timid monks; the thick mustaches, the bronzed complexions, were in themselves suggestive of strength and activity.

Most of these faces were furrowed by scars, and close to one face that bore the noblest and most famous scar of all, appeared the exultant and impassioned face of a woman, who was also robed as a monk.

This woman shook a pair of golden scissors that hung by her side and cried :

" Ah, my brothers, we have the Valois at last."

" Upon my word, I share your opinion, sister/' answered the Balafre,

" Not yet, not yet," murmured the cardinal.

« Why so ? "

" Do you think our citizen militia is numerous enough to withstand Crillon and his guards?"

" We have something better than that," replied the Due de Mayenne, " and, believe me, there will not be a single musket-shot exchanged."

" Eh ? " said the Duchesse de Montpensier ; " you 're not serious, I hope ? I should enjoy a little skirmish so much ! "

" I 'm heartily sorry, sister, but you '11 have to get along without it. When the King is taken, he will cry out ; but there will be none to answer his cries. We shall then, by persuasion or force, but without appearing in the matter, get him to sign his abdication. The news of the abdication will run like wildfire through the city, and all, soldiers as well as citizens, will be in our favor."

" The plan is good, and cannot fail now," said the duchess.

" It is somewhat rough, though," observed the Cardinal de Guise, shaking his head.

" The King will refuse to sign the abdication," added the Balafre; " he is brave, and will prefer death."

" Then let him die ! " cried Mayenne and the duchess.

" No," answered the Due de Guise, firmly, " no ! I am perfectly willing to succeed a prince who abdicates and who is despised ; but I will not sit on the throne of a monarch who has been assassinated and is pitied. Besides, you leave out of your plans the Due d'Anjou, who, if the King is killed, will claim the crown."

"Let him claim it, mordieu! " said Mayenne, "let him claim it. Our brother the cardinal has foreseen this contingency ; the Due d'Anjou shall be included in his brother's act of abdication. He has been intriguing with the Huguenots, and is unworthy to reign."

" With the Huguenots — are you sure of that ? "

" Sure of it ? Why, the King of Navarre helped him to escape ! "

" There is something in that."

" Then another clause in favor of our house must follow the clause of the King's abdication ; this clause shall make you lieutenant-general of the kingdom, brother, and from that to the throne is but a step."

" Yes, yes," said the cardinal, " I have arranged all that.

But it is possible that the French guards, to make sure that the abdication is genuine, and, above all, that it is voluntary, may force the gates of the abbey. Crillon is not a person to be trifled with; he is just the sort of man to say to the King : 1 Sire, you must save your honor, though it be at the peril of your life.' "

"Th,at is a matter for the consideration of the general," said Mayenne, " and the general has taken his precautions. If we are besieged, we have eighty gentlemen here, and I have distributed arms to a hundred monks. We could hold out for a month against a whole army, putting aside the fact that, if we could not, we can escape with our prisoner through the underground passage."

" I wonder what the Due d'Anjou is doing at the present moment."

" In the hour of danger he has weakened, as usual. The duke returned to his hotel, where he is doubtless waiting for the news along with Monsoreau and Bussy."

" By my soul, it is here he ought to have been, and not at his hotel."

" I think you are mistaken, brother," replied the cardinal ; " if we brought the two brothers together, the nobility and the people would suspect there was a plot to entrap the whole family, and we ought to do everything in our power to avoid the appearance of playing the part of usurper. We inherit, that is all. By leaving the Due d'Anjou his freedom and the queen mother her independence, we gain the good wishes and the admiration of our partisans, and no one will have anything to say against us. If we act differently, we shall have Bussy and a hundred other dangerous swords against us."

" Pshaw ! Bussy is to fight against the minions to-morrow."

" I know he is, and he is sure to kill them, too," said the Due de Guise; " and, when he has done so, he will belong to us. I should like to make him general of the army in Italy, where war must soon break out. A very superior man is the Seigneur de Bussy, and I have the highest esteem for him."

" And to show that I have quite as much esteem for him as you have, brother," said the Duchesse de Montpensier, " I intend marrying him, if I become a widow."

" Marry him, sister ! " cried Mayenne.

*•' Oh," said the duchess, " greater ladies than I am have

done more than that for him, and he was not then the general of an army, either."

" Come, come," said Mayenne, " we have other things to do at present; let us set about doing them !"

" Who is with the King ? " asked the Due de Guis-e.

" The prior and Brother Gorenflot, I think," said the cardinal. " It is best he should see only familiar faces for a time. Otherwise, he might take alarm at once."

" Yes," said Mayenne ; " besides, it will be pleasanter for us to eat the fruits of the conspiracy than to gather them ourselves."

" Is he in his cell yet ?" asked Madame de Montpensier, who was impatient to give the King the third crown she had been so long promising him.

" No, not yet ; he is going to see first the great reposoir in the crypt and to venerate the holy relics."

« And then ? "

" Then the prior will address to him a few high-sounding phrases on the vanity of all earthly things; after which, Brother Gorenflot, — you know him, the monk that delivered that magnificent discourse on the evening of the League " —

" Yes ; go on."

*' Brother Gorenflot will try to obtain by persuasion that which we are reluctant to wrest from his weakness."

" It would be infinitely better if we succeeded in doing so," said the duke, thoughtfully.

" No doubt of our success," Mayenne answered ; " Henri is superstitious and weak-minded. I am quite certain he will yield to the fear of hell."

" Well, I am not at all so certain as you are," said the duke, " but our vessels are burned behind us; there is no going back. So if both Gorenflot's and the prior's efforts fail, we must have recourse to the last resort — intimidation."

" And then I shall clip my Valois," cried the duchess, still reverting to her favorite idea.

At this moment the tinkling of a bell sounded under the vaults, which were darkened by the shades of approaching night.

" The King is descending to the crypt," said the Due de Guise ; " call your friends, Mayenne, and let us all become monks again."

And immediately these bold faces and ardent eyes and tale-

telling wounds were buried in the folds of monastic hoods ; then thirty or forty monks, led by the three brothers, made their way to the entrance of the crypt.

CHAPTER LXXXIX.

CHICOT I.

THE King was so entirely absorbed in his pious meditations that it looked as if the schemes of the Guises could be carried to a successful issue with the greatest ease.