La Dame de Monsoreau (83 page)

" What do you say to to-morrow, Monsoreau ? " asked the prince.

" I am always at your highness's orders," answered Monsoreau ; " but, as monseigneur himself deigned to notice a moment ago, I am tired out, too much so to lead a hunt to-morrow. Besides, I must visit the neighborhood and examine the condition of our woods."

" And then, hang it! we must allow him to see his wife,

gentlemen," said the prince in a tone of jovial good nature that convinced the poor husband that Francois was his rival.

u We do ! we do!" cried the young people, gayly. " We allow M. de Monsoreau twenty-four hours to do everything in his woods he has to do in them."

" Yes, gentlemen," said the count, " grant me these twenty-four hours, and I promise you I '11 employ them well."

" I permit you to retire now, M. le Comte," said the duke. " Let M. de Monsoreau be shown to his apartments."

M.. de Monsoreau bowed himself out, relieved of that great burden, constraint.

Those who are in affliction are even fonder of solitude than are fortunate lovers.

CHAPTER LXIL

HOW KING HENRI LEARNED OF HIS BELOVED BROTHER'S FLIGHT, AND WHAT FOLLOWED.

ONCE the grand huntsman was out of the hall, the gayety and joyousness of the banquet grew more unrestrained and hilarious than ever.

The count's gloomy face had produced a slightly sobering effect on the young gentlemen ; for, beneath his weariness, partly affected but mostly real, they were able to get some slight glimpse of the utter joylessness of his soul and its absorption in the most dismal thoughts, thoughts that stamped his brow with the seal of a desperate sorrow and aggravated the repulsive characteristics of his physiognomy.

On his departure the prince, who was always embarrassed in his presence, resumed his air of tranquillity.

" Livarot," said he, " you were beginning to tell us of your escape from Paris when the grand huntsman entered. Continue."

And Livarot continued.

But as our title of historian gives us the privilege of knowing even better than Livarot what had taken place, we will substitute our narrative for that of the young man. The story will, perhaps, lose something in color, but it will gain in the perfection of its details, as we know what Livarot could not know, namely, all the events that occurred in the Louvre.

Toward the middle of the night, Henri III. was roused from his slumbers by an unusual uproar in his palace, in which, as soon as the King had retired, the most profound silence was enjoined.

There were oaths, blows of halberds on the walls, rapid running through the galleries, imprecations loud enough to raise the dead; and, amid all the crashing and banging and roaring and cursing, these words were heard, repeated by a thousand echoes :

" What will the King say ? What will the King say ? "

Henri sat up in bed arid looked at Chicot, who, after supping with his Majesty, had fallen asleep in a large elbow-chair, his rapier between his legs.

The uproar grew louder.

Henri jumped out of bed, all plastered with his pomades.

" Chicot! Chicot! " he cried.

Chicot opened an eye ; he was a sagacious wight, who had a strong appreciation of sleep and never quite awoke at the first call.

" You did wrong, Henri, to disturb me," said he. " I was dreaming you had a son."

" Listen ! " whispered Henri; " listen ! "

" Why should I listen ? I should think you talk enough twaddle to me during the daytime, without wanting to encroach on my nights."

" But do you not hear ? " said the King, pointing in the direction of the noise.

" Eh! By my faith, I do, really, hear cries."

" What will the King say ? What will the King say ? " repeated Henri. " Do you hear ? "

" The hubbub is occasioned by one of two things : either your greyhound Narcisse is ill, or else the Huguenots are taking their revenge and having a Catholic Saint Bartholomew."

" Help me to dress, Chicot."

" I have no objection, but help me to rise, Henri."

" What a misfortune ! What a misfortune ! " was repeated in the antechambers.

" The devil's in it, or this is something serious," said Chicot.

" It would be well for us to arm ourselves," said the King.

"It would be still better," answered Chicot, " to hurry through the little door and find out for ourselves what is the trouble, instead of waiting to be told about it by others."

In a few moments, Henri, acting on Chicot's advice, passed through the secret door and entered the corridor leading to the Due d'Anjou's apartments.

There he saw hands lifted appealingly to heaven, and heard exclamations of the most despairing character.

" Oho ! " exclaimed Chicot, " I have it ! Your unhappy prisoner, Henri, has strangled himself in prison. Venire de biche, man, I wish you joy with all my heart. You are a greater statesman than I had any idea you were."

" No ! Silence, wretch ! It cannot be as you say."

" So much the worse," answered Chicot.

" Come, come on."

And Henri dragged-Chicot into the duke's bedchamber.

The window was open, and a crowd of inquisitive spectators trampled on one another's feet in the effort to get a view of the rope-ladder dangling from the iron knobs on the balcony.

Henri turned as pale as a sheet.

" Well, well, my son/' said Chicot, " you are not so indifferent and cynical as I thought you were."

" Fled ! Escaped ! " cried Henri, in such a ringing voice that all the gentlemen at once turned round.

The King's eyes flashed; his hand clutched convulsively the hilt of his dagger.

Schomberg was tearing his hair; Quelus repeatedly struck his face with his fist, and with all his strength ; and Maugiron butted his head like a ram against the partition.

As for D'^pernon, he had vanished, under the specious pretext of chasing M. d'Anjou.

The sight of the despair of his favorites'and of the injury they were doing themselves restored the King's calmness in a moment.

" Compose yourself, my son," he said to Maugiron, placing his arm round his waist.

" No, mordieu ! Devil take me if I don't break my neck on account of it! " And the young man made another attempt to dash out his brains, not against the partition, but against the wall.

" Hello, there ! " cried Henri, " some one help me to restrain him."

" I say, comrade," said Chicot, " can you find no easier death than the one you 're seeking ? What prevents you from passing your sword neatly through your stomach, and so making an end of it."

" Hold your tongue, you murderer !" cried Henri, with tears in his eyes.

During this time, Quelus had managed to lacerate his cheeks in a frightful manner.

" Oh ! Quelus, my child," said Henri, " do you want to look as ugly as Schomberg after he had been dipped in indigo ? If you do, my dear boy, you will be frightful."

Quelus stopped.

Schomberg alone continued to tear his hair. He was weeping with rage.

" Schomberg ! Schomberg ! My dear Schomberg !" cried Henri, "be reasonable, I beseech you."

" It will drive me mad !"

" Bah ! " said Chicot.

" In fact, it is a very great misfortune," said Henri, " and that is the very reason why you should try to keep in your sober senses, Schomberg. Yes, it is a frightful misfortune ; I am ruined! There will be a civil war now in my kingdom. Ah ! who has dealt me this blow ? Who furnished the ladder ? God's death ! I '11 have the whole city hanged, or I '11 know ! "

All who heard the King were thoroughly terrified.

" Who is the traitor ? Where is he ? Ten thousand crowns to him who tells me his name, a hundred thousand to the man that delivers him up, dead or alive."

" Who could it be except an Angevine ? " cried Maugiron.

" By heavens ! you are right," said Henri. " Ah ! the Angevines, mordieu ! the Angevines — Oh! they shall pay me for this ! "

And as if this word had been a spark flung into a powder-magazine, a tremendous explosion of cries and threats broke out against the Angevines.

" Undoubtedly, the Angevines ! " cried Quelus.

" Where are they ? " howled Schomberg.

" Rip them open !" bawled Maugiron.

" A hundred gibbets for a hundred Angevines ! " shouted the King.

Chicot could not remain silent in the midst of this general madness : drawing his rapier and flourishing it with the most exaggerated bravado, he laid about him in every direction, striking the minions with the flat of the sword, fencing at the wall, and all the time repeating :

" Oh, venire de biche ! oh, what manly rage ! ah ! damnation ! death to the Angevines, I say ! death to the Angevines !"

This cry : " Death to the Angevines ! was heard throughout the city, as the cry of the Hebrew mothers was once heard throughout all Rama.

Meanwhile Henri was no longer in the room.

The thought suddenly occurred to him that it would be a wise idea to visit his mother, who had been somewhat neglected of late, and, slipping quietly out of the room, he directed his steps to her apartments.

Under an appearance of detachment from the world, Catharine was really waiting for the time when her policy, as she saw with her Florentine penetration, would be again in the ascendant.

When Henri entered, she was reclining in a large armchair, evidently in a pensive mood; with her fat and somewhat yellowish cheeks, with the fixed stare in her brilliant eyes, and with her plump but pale hands, she bore a stronger resemblance to a waxen statue of Meditation than she did to a living, animated human being.

But at the news of the escape of Francois, news which Henri announced with the utmost bluntness, for he was on fire with anger and hatred, the statue seemed suddenly to awake to life, although the movement that told of this awaking consisted in leaning farther back in her chair and in a silent shake of the head.

" Mother," said Henri, " you do not express any indignation ! "

" Why should I do so, my son ? " asked Catharine.

"What! your son's escape does not strike you as criminal, dangerous, and deserving of the severest punishment ? "

" My dear son, liberty is well worth a crown; and remember, I advised you to fly in order to gain a crown. v

" Mother, he outrages me."

Catharine shrugged her shoulders.

" Mother, he braves me."

" Oh, no," answered Catharine ; " he escapes ; that is all."

" Ah ! " he rejoined, " this is how you take my part."

" What do you mean, my son ? "

" I mean that the feelings are deadened by age ; I mean that" —

He paused.

" What are you saying ? " asked Catharine, with her customary serenity.

" That you no longer love me as you once did."

" You are mistaken," said Catharine, with increasing coldness. " You are my best-beloved son, Henri. But he of whom you complain is also my son."

" Ah ! I do not want any of your commonplaces of maternal morality, madame," said Henri, furiously ; " we all know what they are worth."

" Indeed ! Certainly you ought to know better than any one; for my maternal morality has always changed to weakness where you were concerned."

" And, as your present leanings are in the direction of repentance, you repent of that, too."

" I saw clearly, my son," said she, " that we must come to this in the end. That was the reason why I kept silent."

" Adieu, madame, adieu," answered Henri. " I know now what I have to do since my mother no longer sympathizes with me. I can find other counsellors, however, who will befriend me in my just indignation and advise me in this critical juncture."

" Go, my son," said the Florentine, calmly, " and may your counsellors have the guidance of God ! they will certainly need it if they are going to be any help to you in your present difficulties."

And she did not make a gesture or utter a word to detain him.

" Adieu, madame," repeated Henri.

But when near the door he paused.

" Adieu, Henri," said the queen. " But one word more. I do not presume to advise you, my son; I am fully aware you do not require my support ; but entreat your counsellors to reflect well before coming to any decision, and to reflect more deeply still before carrying that decision into effect."

" Yes, yes," said Henri, making his mother's last words an excuse for not advancing further, " for the position is a difficult one, is it not, madame ? "

" Yes ; it is grave," said Catharine, slowly raising her eyes and hands to heaven ; " very grave indeed, my son."

The King, impressed by the terror he thought he read in his mother's eyes, came up close to her.

" Have you any idea, mother," he asked, " who it was that carried him off ? "

Catharine did not reply.

" I believe," said Henri, " it was the Angevines."

Catharine smiled, with that air of feline astuteness which was in her the index of a superior mind ever on the watch to confuse and overawe the minds of others.

" The Angevines ? " she repeated.

" You do not believe it," said Henri ; " and yet everybody believes it."

Catharine simply shrugged her shoulders.

" As for what others believe, it does not matter ; but what do you believe, my son ? "

" Nay, madame, — what do you mean ? Explain yourself, I beseech you."

" What good will an explanation do ? "

" It will enlighten me."

" Enlighten you ! Nonsense, Henri, lam but a doting old woman ; my only influence lies in my prayers and repentance."

" No, speak, speak, mother, I am eager to hear you. You are still, and must be ever, the very soul of us all."

" It would be useless ; my ideas are the ideas of another age, and self-distrust warps the intelligence of the old. Can old Catharine, at her time of life, offer any advice that is worth listening to ? Nonsense, my son, that is impossible."