La Dame de Monsoreau (11 page)

" A doctor ! " said Henri, in the same sinister tone; " no, the body is not ill; 't is the soul — the mind. No, no; no doctor — a confessor."

Each one looked at his neighbor, questioned the doors, the curtains, the floor, the ceiling.

But nowhere was there a trace of the invisible object that had so frightened the King.

This inspection added fuel to the general curiosity. And the mystery was growing complicated; the King asked for a confessor !

The demand made, a messenger leaped at once on horseback, a thousand sparks flashed up from the pavement of the Louvre yard, and, five minutes later, Joseph Foulon, Superior of the Convent of St. Gene vie ve, was aroused and almost dragged from his bed.

When he reached the King the tumult ceased, silence was restored. There were conjectures, questions, guesses, but, above all, there was dismay. " The King is going to confess ! "

Early the next morning, the King was up before everybody. He ordered the door of the Louvre closed; it had been opened only to let out the confessor.

Then he summoned his treasurer, his signet-bearer, his master of the ceremonies, took up his black-bound prayer-book, read a few prayers, paused to cut out some of the pictures of the saints, and, suddenly, ordered all his friends to be notified that he required their presence.

The first person visited, in pursuance of this order, was Saint-Luc; but he was sicker than ever. He was exhausted, utterly broken up. His indisposition had taken such a serious turn, his sleep, or rather lethargy, had been so heavy that he alone of all the dwellers in the palace had heard nothing during the night, although separated by but a thin partition from the prince. Consequently, he requested to be allowed to stay in bed, where he would say all the prayers ordered by the King.

At this doleful narrative, Henri made the sign of the cross and commanded his apothecary to be sent to Saint-Luc.

Then he desired all the scourges in the Convent of St. Gene-vieve to be brought to the Louvre, and, when they came, he went, all clad in black, to Schomberg, who limped; to D'6per-non, who had his arm in a sling; to Quelus, who was still dizzy; to D'O and Maugiron, who trembled, distributing the scourges 011 his way and bidding them flagellate one another as hard as their arms would let them.

D'Epernon observed that, as his right arm was in a sling, he ought to be excused from the ceremony ; considering he could not return the strokes administered to him, there would be, so to speak, a note of discord in the flagellating scale.

Henri III. replied that his penitence would only be the more pleasing to God on that account.

He himself gave the example. After taking off his doublet, vest, and shirt, he wielded the scourge like a martyr. Chicot was beginning to laugh and jeer as usual, but a terrible look from the King taught him that now was not the time. Thereupon he seized a discipline like the others. Only, instead of striking himself, he pitched into his neighbors, and, when they were out of his reach, he lashed the paintings, columns, and woodwork, peeling off the varnish and doing other damage.

All this hubbub had the effect of restoring the King's calmness, externally, although any one could see his mind was still stirred to its very depths.

Suddenly he left his room, ordering those present to follow him. The scourging stopped behind him as if by enchantment. Chicot, alone, continued his flagellation of D'O, whom he detested. D'O, on the other hand, tried to give him as good as he got. It was a regular cat-o'-nine-tails' duel.

Henri passed into the apartments of the Queen. He presented her with a necklace of pearls worth twenty-five thousand crowns, kissed her on both cheeks, which had not happened for more than a year, and begged her to take off the royal ornaments and put on sackcloth.

Louise de Lorraine, always kind and gentle, consented at once. But she asked her husband why he gave her a pearl necklace and wanted her to wear sackcloth.

"For my sins," he answered.

The answer satisfied the Queen, for she knew better than any one the enormous sum-total of the sins for which her husband ought to do penance.

On the return of the King, the scourging is renewed. D'O and Chicot, who had not stopped, are bathed in blood. The King compliments them and tells them they are his true and only friends.

At the end of ten minutes, comes the Queen, clad in her sackcloth. Immediately, tapers are distributed to the court, and, with naked feet during that horrible weather of frost and snow, the fine courtiers and fine ladies, as well as the honest citizens of Paris, all devoted servants of the King and Our Lady, are on the road to Montmartre, at first shivering, but soon warming up under the furious strokes administered by Chicot to all who have the ill-luck to come within reach of his discipline.

D'O acknowledged he was conquered, and filed off fifty yards away from Chicot.

At four in the evening, the lugubrious procession was over. The convents had reaped a rich harvest, the feet of the courtiers were swollen and their backs raw ; the Queen had appeared in public in an enormous chemise of coarse linen ; the King, with a chaplet of beads, fashioned in the form of death's heads. There had been tears, cries, prayers, incense, and canticles.

The day, as we have seen, had been well spent.

The real fact, however, was every one had endured cold and blows in order to do the King a pleasure, but why the prince, who had been so eager in the dance the evening before, should mangle himself the day after, no one, for the life of him, could tell.

The Huguenots, Leaguers, and Libertines looked on, laughing, while the procession of the flagellants passed, saying, like the true misbelievers they were, that the last procession was far finer and more fervid, which was not true at all.

Henri returned, fasting, with long blue and red stripes on his shoulders. He did not leave the Queen the entire day, and, at every chapel where he halted, he took advantage of the opportunity to promise her that he would grant her new revenues and plan with her new pilgrimages.

As for Chicot, tired of striking, and tired of the unusual exercise to which the King had condemned him, he had stolen off, a little above the Porte Montmartre, and with Brother Gorenflot, one of his friends, he entered the garden of a hostelry in high renown, where he drank some high-spiced wine and eat a widgeon that had been killed in the Grange-Bateliere marshes. Then, on the return of the procession, he resumed his rank and went back to the Louvre, running a-muck at the he-penitents and the she-ones, in the most delightful style imaginable, and distributing, as he said himself, his plenary indulgences.

At nightfall the King felt worn out by his fasting, his barefooted pilgrimage, and the furious blows to which he had treated himself. He had a vegetable soup served him, his shoulders bathed, a great fire lit, and then went to visit Saint-Luc, whom he found hale and hearty.

Since the evening before, the King was quite changed; all his thoughts were turned to the vanity of human things, penitence, and death.

" Ah ! " said he, in the deep tones of a man disgusted with life, " God has, in good truth, done well to make our existence as bitter as possible."

" Why so, sire ? " asked Saint-Luc.

" Because when man is tired of the world, instead of fearing death he longs for it."

" Pardon me, sire," returned Saint-Luc, " speak for yourself, but, in my case, I have not the slightest longing for death."

" Listen, Saint-Luc," said the King, shaking his head : " If you were wise, you would follow my advice, or, to speak more correctly, my example."

" And with great pleasure, sire, if your example pleased me."

" How should you like if I gave up my crown and you your wife, and entered a cloister to-morrow ? I have a dispensation from our Holy Father the Pope. We shall make our profession to-morrow. I shall be called Brother Henri "

" Forgive me, sire, forgive me. You may not think much of your crown, with which you are but too well acquainted, while I think a great deal of my wife, with whom my acquaintance is but slight. Therefore I refuse your offer."

"Why," said Henri, "you are getting better rapidly."

" Never better in my life, sire. My mind is tranquil, my soul joyful. I have a decided bent in the direction of happiness and pleasure."

" Poor Saint-Luc ! " said the King, clasping his hands.

" You ought to have made your proposal yesterday, sire. Yesterday I was dull, whimsical, and in pain. This evening it is quite the other way : I spent a pleasant night, quite charming, in fact. And so, my present disposition is to be as gay as a lark. Mordieu ! pleasure forever ! "

" You are swearing, Saint-Luc," said the King.

" Did I swear, sire ? ? T is not unlikely ; but, then, if I do not mistake, you sometimes swear yourself."

" Yes, Saint-Luc, I have sworn ; but I will never swear again."

" I should not venture to go as far as that. I will swear as little as possible. That's the only thing I can promise. Besides, God is good and merciful Avhen our sins spring from our human weaknesses."

" You think, then, God will pardon me ? "

" Oh, I am not speaking of you, sire, I am speaking of your

humble servant. Plague on it,! if you have sinned, you have sinned as a king, while I have sinned as a private individual. I hope, on the day of judgment, the Lord will not have the same weights and scales for us."

The King heaved a sigh and murmured a confiteor, beating his breast at the mea culpa.

" Saint-Luc," said he, at length, " will you spend the night in my room ? "

" That 's as may be. What shall we do ? " asked Saint-Luc, " in your Majesty's room ? "

" We shall light it up. I will lie down, and you '11 read me the litanies of the saints."

u Thanks, sire."

« You don't like it, then ? "

" Not the least in the world."

" So, you forsake me ! Saint-Luc, you forsake me ! "

" No, quite the contrary, I am not leaving you."

" Ah ! you 're sure ? "

" If you like."

" Certainly, I like."

" But on one condition, a condition sine qua non"

" What is it ? "

" Your Majesty must have the tables set, send for violins and courtesans, and then, by my faith, we '11 dance."

" Saint-Luc ! Saint-Luc ! " cried the King, appalled.

" Nay ! " said Saint-Luc, " I feel myself to-night in a merry humor. Will you drink and dance, sire ? "

But Henri did not answer. His mind, generally so sportful and lively, was becoming gloomier and gloomier; it seemed wrestling with some secret thought that pressed it down, as might a leaden weight tied to the claws of a bird which vainly struggled to stretch its wings and fly.

" Saint-Luc," said the King, at length, in a mournful voice, " do you ever dream ? "

" Often, sire."

" Do you believe in dreams ? "

" Why, of course."

" But why ? "

" Oh, because dreams sometimes compensate us for realities. Thus to-night I had a charming dream."

" What was it ? "

" I dreamed that my wife " —

u Are you still thinking of your wife, then, Saint-Luc ? "

" More than ever."

" Ah ! " sighed the King, with an upward glance.

" I dreamed," continued Saint-Luc, " that my wife, with her lovely face, for she is lovely, sire " —

" Alas ! yes," returned the King. " Eve was lovely also, 0 wretched man, and yet she ruined us all."

" Ah! so now I know the occasion of your ill-will. But to return to my dream, sire. Do you wish me ? "

" I, too, dreamed"

" My wife, then, with her lovely face, had taken to herself the wings and form of a bird, and, braving bolts and bars, had flown over the walls of the Louvre, knocked at rny window, with a delicious little cry, which I understood plainly, and said, < Open, Saint-Luc ; let me in, my husband.' ' ;

" And you opened ? " said the King, almost in a tone of despair.

" I wager you I did," answered Saint-Luc, emphatically.

« Worldling !"

" Worldling, as much as you like, sire."

" And then you awoke ? "

" No, sire, I took care not to; the dream was far too charming."

" And did you continue to dream ? "

" As long as I could, sire."

" And you expect to-night"

" To dream again, saving your Majesty's favor. Now you understand why I decline your kind request to. go and read prayers to you. If I am compelled to keep awake I want, at least, to have something that will make up for my dream; and so, if, as I have already mentioned, your Majesty sends for the violins "

"Enough, Saint-Luc, enough," said the King, rising, "you are damning yourself, and would damn me if I remained here any longer. Adieu, Saint-Luc ; God grant that, instead of that diabolic dream, he sends you some saving vision which may induce you to-morrow to share my penitence and be saved along with me."

" I doubt it, sire, indeed. I am so decided on the matter that the best advice I can give your Majesty is to turn that libertine, Saint-Luc, out of the Louvre to-night, seeing that he has made up his mind to die impenitent."

" No," replied Henri, " no, I hope that on to-morrow grace will touch his heart as it has touched mine. Good evening, Saint-Luc ; I will pray for you."

" Good evening, sire; I will dream for you."

And Saint-Luc began humming the first couplet of a song, more than indecorous, which the King was fond of singing when in good humor. Thereupon his Majesty beat a retreat, closing the door and murmuring as he entered his own room:

" My Lord and my God ! thy wrath is just and lawful, for the world grows worse and worse ! "

CHAPTEE VIII.

HOW THE KING AND CHICOT WERE AFRAID OF BEING AFRAID.

AFTER leaving Saint-Luc the King found the whole court assembled in the grand gallery, as he had ordered.

Then he distributed some favors among his friends, banished D'O, D'Epernon, and Schomberg to the provinces, threatened Maugiron and Quelus with trial if they had any more quarrels with Bussy, gave the latter his hand to kiss, and pressed his brother Francois to his heart.

As for the Queen, he was lavish in his expressions of love and praise in her regard, so that those present drew the most favorable auguries from his behavior as to the succession of the crown of France.

When the hour for retiring drew near it was easy to be seen that the King was putting off that hour as late as possible ; at length the clock of the Louvre struck ten ; Henri looked long and earnestly in every direction ; apparently he was trying to make a choice among his friends of the person he should select for the office of reader, the office refused by Saint-Luc a few moments before.

Chicot noticed what the King was doing.

With his customary audacity he exclaimed :

" I say, Henri, you have been casting sheep's eyes at me all the evening. Would you be thinking, peradventure, of bestowing on me a fat abbey with an income of ten thousand livres ? Zounds ! what a prior I should make ! Give it, my son, give it! "

" Come with me, Chicot," said the King. " Good evening, gentlemen, I am about to retire."

Chicot turned to the courtiers, twisted his mustache, and, with the most gracious air imaginable, rolling his big, soft eyes, repeated, parodying Henri:

" Good evening, gentlemen, we are about to retire."

The courtiers bit their lips ; the King reddened.

" Ho there ! " cried Chicot, " my hair-dresser, my valet, and, especially, my cream."

" No," said the King, " there is no need of all that this evening. We are near Lent, and I am doing penance."

" I regret the cream," said Chicot.

The King and his jester entered the apartment with which we are all so well acquainted.

" Oho, Henri," said Chicot; " so I am the favorite, the indispensable individual, then, am I ? Why, I must be very pretty, prettier than that Cupid, Quelus, even."

" Silence, you fool; and you, gentlemen of the toilet, retire," said the King.

The valets obeyed, the door was shut, and Henri and Chicot were alone. Chicot looked at the King with amazement.

" Why are you sending them away ? " asked the jester ; " we have not yet been greased. Is it that you are thinking of greasing me with your own royal hand ? Faith, it will be penance like the rest."

Henri did not answer. Everybody had left the chamber, and the two kings, the fool and the sage, looked at each other.

" Let us pray," said Henri.

" Excuse me," returned Chicot; " no fun in praying. If it was for that you brought me here, I prefer returning to the bad company I left. Adieu, my son, good evening."