GEORGE ROUTLEDGE 2 SONS,
Manuscript, Archives,
and Rare book Library
EMORY UNIVERSITY
3nty
the
ion.
sve.
1.
ra's
iey.
Mrs. CROWE.
Night Side of Nature.
Susan Hopley.
Linny Lockwood.
CHAS. DICKENS.
The Pickwick Papers.
Sketches by Boz.
Nicholas Nickleby.
Oliver Twist.
Martin Chuzzlewit.
Grimaldi, the Clown.
Dombey and Son.
ALEX. DUMAS.
The Half-Brothers.
Marguerite de Valois.
The Mohicans of Paris.
The Three Musketeers.
Twenty Years After.
Chicot, the Jester.
The 45 Guardsmen.
'jane "seton ; or, The
Queen's Advocate.
Philip Rollo.
Legends of the Black
Watch.
Mary of Lorraine.
Oliver Ellis; or, The
Fusiliers.
Lucy Arden ; or, Holly-
wood Hall.
Frank Hilton.
The Yellow Frigate.
Harry Ogilvie; or, The
Black Dragoons.
Arthur Blane.
Laura Everingham.
Captain of the Guard.
Letty Hyde's Lovers.
Cavaliers of Fortune.
Second to None.
Constable of France.
The Phantom Regiment.
Maurice Dering.
iny's
Anteros.
Breaking a Butterfly.
Sans Merci.
Sword and Gown.
THEODORE HOOK.
Peregrine Bunce.
Cousin Geoffry.
Gilbert Gurney.
The Parson's Daughter.
All in the Wrong.
Widow and Marquess.
Gurney Married.
Jack Brag.
Maxwell.
Man of Many Friends.
Passion and Principle.
Merton.
Gervase Skinner.
Cousin William.
Fathers and Sons.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS.
NOVELS AT TWO SHILLINGS, continued.
G. P. R.JAMES.
The Brigand.
Morley Ernstein.
Darnley;
Richelieu.
The Gipsy.
Arabella Stuart.
The Woodman.
Agincourt.
Russell.
The King's Highway.
Castle of Ehrenstein.
The Stepmother.
Forest Days.
The Huguenot.
The Man at Arms.
A Whim and its Con-
sequences.
Henry Masterton.
The Convict.
Mary of Burgundy.
Attila.
Margaret Graham.
Gowrie.
Delaware.
Henry of Guise.
Dark Scenes of History.
The Robber.
One in a Thousand.
The Smuggler.
De L'Orme.
Heidelberg.
Charles Tyrrell.
The False Heir.
Castleneau.
SirTheodore Broughton.
The Forgery.
The Gentleman of the
Old School.
The Jacquerie.
Philip Augustus.
The Black Eagle.
Rose D'Albret.
The Old Dominion.
Leonora D'Orco.
John Marston Hall.
Beauchamp.
Arrah Neil.
My Aunt Pontypool.
R. M. JEPHSpN.
Tom Bullkley of Lis-
sington.
The Girl He Left Behind
Him.
A Pink Wedding.
The Roll of the Drum.
With the Colours.
HENRY KINGSLEY.
Stretton.
Old Margaret.
The Harveys.
Hornby Mills.
JOHN LANG.
Will He Marry Her ?
The Ex-Wife.
CHARLES LEVER.
Arthur O'Leary.
Con Cregan.
Horace Templeton.
S. LOVER.
Rory O'More,
Handy Andy.
Lord LYTTON.
Pelham.
Paul Clifford.
Eugene Aram.
Last Days of Pompeii.
Rienzi.
Leila, and Pilgrims of
the Rhine.
The Last of the Barons.
Ernest Maltravers.
Alice; or, The Mysteries.
Night and Morning.
Godolphin.
The Disowned.
Devereux.
The Caxtons.
My Novel, 2 vols.
Lucretia.
Harold.
Zanoni.
What will He Do with
It ? 2 vols.
A Strange Story.
The Coming Race.
Kenelm Chillingly.
The Parisians, 2 vols.
Falkland, and Zicci.
Pausanius.
Capt. MARRYAT.
(Standard Novels), in bds.
Jacob Faithful.
Japhet in Search of a
Father.
The King's Own.
Midshipman Easy.
Newton Forster.
Pacha of Many Tales.
Rattlin the Reefer.
The Poacher.
The Phantom Ship.
The Dog Fiend.
Percival Keene.
Frank Mildmay.
Peter Simple.
W. H. MAXWELL.
Stories of Waterloo.
Brian O'Linn; or, Luck
is Everything.
Captain Blake.
The Bivouac.
Hector O'Halloran.
Captain O'Sullivan.
Stories of the Penin-
sular War.
Wild Sports in the West.
W. J. N. NEALE.
The Lost Ship.'
The Captain's Wife.
The Pride of the Mess.
The Flying Dutchman.
Will Watch.
Cavendish.
Gentleman Jack.
Mrs. RADCLIFFE.
Mysteries of Udolpho.
Romance of the Forest.
MAYNE REID.
The Quadroon.
The War Trail.
The Scalp Hunters.
The Rifle Rangers.
The Maroon.
The White Chief.
The Wild Huntress.
The White Gauntlet.
The Half-Blood.
Headless Horseman.
Lost Lenore.
The Hunters' Feast.
The Wood Rangers.
The Tiger Hunter.
The Boy Slaves.
The Cliff Climbers.
The Giraffe Hunters.
Afloat in the Forest.
The Ocean Waifs.
The White Squaw.
The Fatal Cord.
The Guerilla Cbief.
RICHARDSON.
Clarissa Harlowe.
Pamela.
Sir Charles Grandison.
Sir WALTER SCOTT.
Waverley.
Guy Mannering.
Old Mortality.
Heart of Midlothian.
Rob Roy.
Ivanhoe.
The Antiquary.
Bride of Lammermoor.
The Black Dwarf, and A
Legend of Montrose.
The Monastery.
The Abbot.
Kenilworth.
The Pirate.
The Fortunes of Nigel.
Peveril of the Peak.
Quentin Durward.
St. Ronan's Well.
Redgauntlet.
The Betrothed and High-
land Widow.
The Talisman, and Two
Drovers.
Woodstock.
The Fair Maid of Perth.
Anne of Geierstein.
Count Robert of Paris.
TheSurgeon'sDaughter.
GEORGE ROUT LEDGE &> SONS.
2
NOVELS AT TWO SHILLINGS, continued.
ALBERT SMITH.
The Marchioness of
Brinvilliers. [bury.
Adventures of Mr. Lea-
Scattergood Family.
Christopher Tadpole.
The Pottleton Legacy.
SMOLLETT.
Roderick Random.
Humphry Clinker.
Peregrine Pickle.
ANNIE THOMAS.
False Colours.
The Dower House.
The Cross of Honour.
ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
GoldenLion of Granpere
John Caldigate.
Mrs. TROLLOPE.
One Fault.
The Widow Barnaby.
The Widow Married.
The Ward.
Love and Jealousy.
JULES VERNE.
Adventures of Captain
Hatteras.
Twenty Thousand
Leagues under the Sea.
Five Weeks in a Bal-
loon, and a Journey to
Centre of the Earth.
Miss WETHERELL.
The Old Helmet.
Melbourne House.
Ellen Montgomery's
Bookshelf.
The Two School Girls.
The Wide, Wide World.
Queechy.
Author of' Whltefriars'
Whitefriars.
VARIOUS AUTHORS.
Whitehall.
Caesar Borgia.
Owen Tudor.
The Maid of Orleans.
Westminster Abbey.
Madeleine Graham.
Armourer's Daughter.
EDMUND YATES.
Running the Gauntlet.
Kissing the Rod.
The Rock Ahead.
Black Sheep.
A Righted Wrong.
The Yellow Flag.
The Impending Sword.
A Waiting Race.
Broken to Harness.
Two by Tricks.
A Silent Witness, [tient.
Dr. Wainwright's Pa-
Wrecked in Port.
Business of Pleasure.
Caleb Williams, by Godwin.
The Scottish Chiefs, by Miss Porter.
Torlogh O'Brien, by Le Fanu.
The Hour and the Man. Martineau.
The Pastor's Fireside. Jane Porter.
The Prairie Bird, by Sir C. Murray.
The Rifleman, by Capt. Rafter.
Salathiel, by Dr. Croiy.
The Clockmaker, by " Sam Slick."
The Two Frigates, by Cupples.
The Bashful Irishman.
Deeds, Not Words, by M. M. Bell.
The Secret of a Life, ditto.
Murder will Out.
Sir Roland Ashton, by Lady C. Long.
The Greatest Plague of Life, with
Cruikshank's Plates.
The Attache, by " Sam Slick."
The Green Hand, by Cupples.
Hajji Baba of Ispahan, by Morier.
Whom to Marry, with Cruikshank's
Plates. [" Sam Slick."
Letter Bag of the Great Western, by
Black and Gold, by P. Sanders.
Vidocq, the French Police Spy.
Gilderoy, by Fittis.
Singleton Fontenoy, by Hannay.
The Lamplighter, by Miss Cummins.
Gideon Giles the Roper. T. Miller.
The Wandering Jew, by Sue.
The Mysteries of Paris, ditto.
Land and Sea Tales, " Old Sailor."
Mabel Vaughan, by Miss Cummins.
Peep o' Day, by Banim.
The Smuggler, ditto.
Stuart of Dunleath.Hon.Mrs. Norton.
Adventures of a Strolling Player.
The Solitary Hunter, by Palisser.
Kaloolah, by Mayo.
Won in a Canter, by " Old Calabar."
Blount Tempest. J. C. M. Bellew.
Mornings at Bow Street, with Cruik-
shank's Plates.
The Arctic Regions. P. L. Simmonds.
Miss Forrester. Author of "Archie
Lovell."
The Pretty Widow, by Chas. Ross.
Recommended to Mercy.
Love Stories of English Watering
Places.
Saved by a Woman, by Author of
" No Appeal."
At His Gates, by Mrs. Oliphant.
Helen, by Miss Edgeworth.
First Lieutenant's Story. Lady Long.
Clement Lorimer, by A. B. Reach.
Tom Cringle's Log. Michael Scott.
Private Life of an Eastern King.
Hearths & Watchfires. Col. Colomb.
The City of the Sultan, Miss Pardoe.
Through the Mist, by Jeanie Hering.
Tales of the Coastguard. Warneford.
Leonard Lindsay, by A. B. Reach.
Traits and Stories of Irish Peasantry,
ist & 2nd series, 2 vols. Carleton.
Romance of Military Life.
Robber of the Rhine, by Ritchie.
The Polish Lancer, by Reelstab.
Jasper Lyle, by Mrs. Ward.
Flower of the Forest, by St. John.
Cruise of the Midge, by M. Scott.
Thaddeus of Warsaw. Jane Porter.
The Hazelhurst Mystery.
Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo.
Love or Lucre, by R. Black.
Strafford, by H. B. Baker.
The Prodigal Daughter, Mark Hope.
Madge Dunraven. [Kingston.
Roger Kyflfin's Ward, by W. H. G.
Miss Roberts's Fortune. S.Winthrop.
An Uninhabited House. Mrs.Riddell.
Children of the Abbey. R. M. Roche.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE SONS.
3
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS
AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE
BY
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
AUTHOR OF ''MONTE CRISTO."
3
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
LONDON : BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
ADVERTISEMENT.
The following introductory remarks are extracted from
a review of Dumas' Novels, &c., in Blackwood's
Magazine.
" On the eighteenth day of August, 1572, a great festival was
held in the palace of the Louvre. It was to celebrate the
nuptials of Henry of Navarre and Marguerite de Valois.
" This alliance between the chief of the Protestant party
in France, and the sister of Charles IX, and daughter of
Catherine de Medicis, perplexed, and in some degree alarmed*
the Catholics, whilst it filled the Huguenots with joy and
exultation* The king had declared that he knew and made
ho difference between Romanist and Calvinist—that all were
alike his subjects, and equally beloved by him, He caressed
the throng of Huguenot nobles and gentlemen whom the
marriage had attracted to the court, was affectionate to his
new brother-in-law, friendly with the Prince of Conde, almost
respectful to the venerable Admiral de Coligny, to whom he
proposed to confide the command of an army in a projected
War with Spain. The chiefs of the Catholic party were not
behind-hand in following the example set them by Charles,
Catherine de Medicis was all smiles and affability; the Duke
of Anjou, afterwards Henry III,, received graciously the com-
iv AD VER TISEMENT.
pliments paid him by the Huguenots themselves on his sue-
cesses at Jarnac and Moncontour, battles which he had won
before he was eighteen years old; Henry of Guise, whose re-
putation as a leader already, at the age of two-and-twenty,
almost equalled that of his great father, was courteous and
friendly to those whose deadly foe he had so lately been.
The Duke of Mayenne and the Admiral, the Guise and the
Conde, were seen riding, conversing, and making parties of
pleasure together. It was the lion lying down with the lamb.
" On the twenty-second of August, four days after the mar-
riage, in which the Huguenots saw a guarantee of the peaceful
exercise of their religion, the Admiral de Coligny was passing
through the street of St.-GermainTAuxerrois, when he was
shot at and wounded by a captain of Petardiers, one Mau-
revel, who went by the name of Le Tueur du Roi, literally,
the King's Killer. At midnight on the twenty-fourth of August,
the tocsin sounded, and the massacre of St. Bartholomew began.
" It is at this stirring period of French history, abounding
in horrors and bloodshed, and in plots and intrigues, that M.
Alexandre Dumas commences ' Marguerite de Valois.' Be-
ginning with the marriage of Henry and Margaret, he narrates,
in his spirited and attractive style, various episodes, real and
imaginary, of the great massacre, from the first fury of which
Henry'himself, doomed to death by the remorseless Catherine
de Medicis, was only saved by his own caution, by the inde-
cision of Charles IX., and the energy of Margaret of Valois.
The marriage between the King of France's sister and the
King of Navarre was merely one of convencince, agreed to by
Henry for the sake of his fellow Protestants, and used by
Catherine and Charles as a lure to bring ' those of the Reli-
gion,' as they were called, to Paris, there to be slaughtered,
unsuspecting and defenceless. Margaret, then scarcely twenty
AD VER TISEMENT.
V
year's of age, had already made herself talked of by her in-
trigues; Henry, who was a few months younger, but who, even
at that early period of his life, possessed a large share of the
shrewdness and prudence for which his countrymen, the
Bearnese, have at all times been noted, was, at the very time
of his marriage, deeply in love with the Baroness de Sauve,
one of Catherine de Medicis' ladies, by whom he was in his turn
beloved. But although little affection existed between the
royal pair, the strong links of interest, and ambition bound
them together; and no sooner were they married, then they
entered into a treaty of political alliance, to which, for some
time, both steadily and truly adhered.
# * * m &
" The author, according to his custom, introduces a vast
array of characters, for the most part historical, all spiritedly
drawn and well sustained. M. Dumas may, in various re-
spects, be held up as an example to our history spoilers, self-
styled writers of historical romance, on this side the
Channel. One does not find him profaning public edifices
by causing all sorts of absurdities to pass, and of twaddle to
be spoken, within their precincts; neither does he make his
kings and beggars, high-born dames and private soldiers, use
the very same language, all equally tame, colourless, and de-
void of character. The spirited and varied dialogue in which
his romances abound, illustrates and brings out the qualities
and characteristics of his actors, and is not used for the sole
purpose of making a chapter out of what would be better
told in a page. In many instances, indeed, it would be diffi-
cult for him to tell his story, by the barest narrative, in fewer
words than he does by pithy and pointed dialogue."
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. M. DE GUISE'S LATIN
II. HENRY OF NAVARRE AND MARGUERITE
III. THE POET-KING
IY. THE EVENING OF THE 24TH OF AUGUST, 15 72 -
V. OF THE LOUVRE IN PARTICULAR, AND OF VIRTUE
IN GENERAL
VI. THE DEBT PAID -------
VII. THE NIGHT OF THE 24TH OF AUGUST, 1572
VIII. THE VICTIMS
IX. THE MURDERERS
X. DEATH, MASS, OR THE BASTILLE - - - -
XI. THE HAWTHORN OF TEIE CEMETERY OF THE
INNOCENTS
XII. MUTUAL CONFIDENCE
XIII. HOW THERE ARE KEYS THAT OPEN DOORS THEY
ARE NOT MEANT FOR
XIV. CATHERINE AND MARGUERITE - - - -
XV. WHAT WOMAN WILLS, HEAVEN WILLS ALSO-
XVI. THE BODY OF A DEAD ENEMY ALWAYS SMELLS
SWEET -
XVII. THE RIVAL OF MAITRE AMBROISE PARE
XVIII. THE VISIT
XIX. THE ABODE OF MAiTRE RENE, PERFUMER TO THE
QUEEN-MOTHER
XX. THE BLACK HENS
XXI. MADAME DE SAUVE'S CHAMBER -
XXII. " SIRE, YOU WILL BE KING I" - - - -
XXIII. A NEW CONVERT
XXIV. THE RUE TIZON AND THE RUE CLOCHE-PERCEE -
XXV. CHERRY MANTLE -
XXVI. MARGUERITE
XXVII. THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE -----
XXVIII. THE LETTER FROM ROME
XXIX. THE DEPARTURE
PAGE
1
12
21
3i
38
44
S3
6S
74
85
96
105
.111
120
128
140
149
154
158
168
173
181
185
196
204
212
216
220
224
viii CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
XXX. MAUREVEL -------- 229
XXXI. THE BOAR-HUNT - 232
XXXII. FRATERNITY - 23^
XXXIII. THE GRATITUDE OF KING CHARLES THE NINTH - 244
XXXIV. MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES - 24&
XXXV. THE TWO KINGS - 255
XXXVI. MARIE TOUCHET - 261
XXXVII. THE RETURN TO THE LOUVRE - - - - 264
XXXVIII. INTERROGATORIES - 272
XXXIX. PROJECTS OF VENGEANCE 278
XL. THE ATRIDES 286
XLI. THE HOROSCOPE - - - - - - -295
XLII. MUTUAL CONFIDENCES 300
XLIII. THE AMBASSADORS ------ 307
XLIV. ORESTES AND PYLADES 312
XLV. ORTHON - -318
XLVI. THE HOSTELRY OF " LA BELLE ETOILE" - - 328
XLVII. DE MOUY DE SAINT-PHALE 334
XLVI 11. TWO HEADS FOR ONE CROWN ----- 340
XLIX. THE BOOK OF VENERIE 348
L. THE HAWKING PARTY 353
LI. THE PAVILION OF FRANCOIS THE FIRST - - 358
LII. THE EXAMINATIONS 363
LIII. ACTION - - - - ' - - - - 371
LIV. VINCENNES - - - - - - - - 377
LV. THE FIGURE OF WAX - - - - - - 381
LVI. THE INVISIBLE BUCKLERS 387
LVII. THE TRIAL 391
LVIII. THE TORTURE OF THE BOOT - 398
LIX. THE CHAPEL - - 403
LX. THE PLACE SAINT-JEAN-EN-GREVE - - - 407
LXI. THE HEADSMAN'S TOWER 413
LXII. TPIE SWEAT OF BLOOD - - - - - - 419
LXIII. THE PLATFORM OF THE DONJON AT VINCENNES- 422
LXIV. THE REGENCY 425
LXV. THE KING IS DEAD ! GOD SAVE THE KING ! - 428
LXVI. EPILOGUE - - - - - - - - 431
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHAPTER I.
m. de guise's latin.
On Monday, the 18th of August, 1572, there was a splendid
fete at the Louvre.
The windows of the ancient royal residence were brilliantly
illuminated, and the squares and streets adjacent, usually so
solitary after the clock of Saint Germain-1'Auxerrois had tolled
nine, were now crowded with people, although it was past mid-
.night.
-All this assemblage, threatening, pressing, and turbulent,
resembled, in the gloom, a dark and rolling sea, each swell
of which increases to a foaming wave ; this sea, extending
all along the quay, spent its waves at the base of the walls
of the Louvre, on the one hand, and against the Hotel de
Bourbon, which was opposite, on the other. There was in
spite of the royal fete, and perhaps even because of the royal
fete, something threatening in the aspect of the people.
The court was celebrating the marriage of Madame Mar-
guerite de Valois, daughter of Henry II. and sister of King
Charles IX., with Henry de Bourbon, King of Navarre; and
that same morning the Cardinal de Bourbon had united the
young couple with the usual ceremonial observed at the mar-
riages of the royal daughters of France, on a stage erected at
the entrance to Notre-Dame.
This marriage had astonished everybody, and occasioned
much surmise to certain persons who saw clearer than others.
They could not comprehend the union of two parties who hated
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
each other so thoroughly as did, at this moment, the Protestant
party and-the Catholic party; and they wondered how the
young Prince de Conde could forgive the Duke d'Anjou, the
king's father, for the death of his father, assassinated by Mon-
tesquiou, at Jarnac. They asked how the young Duke de Guise
could pardon Admiral de Coligny for the death of his father,
assassinated at Orleans by Poltrot de Mere. Moreover, Jeanne
de Navarre, the courageous spouse of the weak Antoine de
Bourbon, who had conducted his son Henry to the royal
espousals which awaited him, had died scarcely two months
before, and singular reports had been spread abroad as to this
sudden death. It was everywhere whispered, and in some
places said aloud, that she had discovered some terrible secret;
and that Catherine de Medicis, fearing its disclosure, had
poisoned her gloves, which had been made by one Rene, her
fellow-countryman, and deeply skilled in such affairs. This
report was the more spread and believed, when, after the death of
this great queen, at her son's request, two celebrated physicians,
one of whom was the famous Ambroise Pare, were instructed
to open and examine the body, but not the skull. As it was by
the smell that Jeanne de Navarre had been poisoned, it was
the brain alone that could present any traces of the crime, and
that was the sole part excluded from dissection. We say crime,
for no one doubted for a moment that a crime had been com-
mitted.
This was not all. The king, Charles, in particular had set
his heart on this union, which not only re-established peace in
his kingdom, but also attracted to Paris the principal Hugue-
nots of France, and his anxiety almost approached to obstinacy.
As the two betrothed belonged one to the Catholic religion and
the other to the Reformed religion, they were obliged to obtain
a dispensation from Gregory XIII., who then filled the papal
chair. The dispensation was slow in coming, and the delay
causing great uneasiness to the late Queen of Navarre, she had
one day expressed to Charles IX. her fears least the dispen-
sation should not arrive; to which the king replied :
"Be under no alarm, my dear aunt. I honour you more
than I do the Pope, and I love my sister more than I fear his
holiness. I am not a Huguenot, but neither am I a fool; and
if the Pope makes any difficulties, I will myself take Margaret
by the hand, and unite her to your son in the sight of open
day."
M. DE GUISE'S LATlM
3
This speech was soon spread through the Louvre and the
city, and whilst it greatly rejoiced the Huguenots, had given the
Catholics wherewithal to reflect upon ; and they asked one
another, with a low voice, if the king really meant to betray them,
or was only playing a part which some fine morning or evening
might have an unexpected finale.
It was particularly with regard to Admiral de Coligny, who
for five or six years had been so bitterly opposed to the king,
that the conduct of Charles IX. appeared inexplicable; after
having put on his head a price of a hundred and fifty thousand
golden crowns, the king now swore by him, called him his
father, and declared openly that he should in future confide the
conduct of the war to him alone. To such a pitch was this
carried, that Catherine de Medicis herself, who until then had
controlled the actions, will, and even desires of the young
prince, seemed beginning to be really uneasy, and not without
reason; for, in a moment of confidence, Charles IX. had said
to the admiral, in reference to the war in Flanders, " My father,
there is one other thing against which we must be on our guard,
and this is, that the queen, my mother, who likes to poke her
nose everywhere, as you well know, shall learn nothing of this
undertaking; we must keep it so quiet that she does not hear a
word of it, or, meddler as she is, she will spoil all."
Now, wise and experienced as he was, Coligny had not kept
this counsel secret; and, albeit he had come to Paris with
great suspicions, and albeit at his departure from Chatillon a
peasant had thrown herself at his feet, crying, " Ah ! sir, our
good master, do not go to Paris, for if you do you will die—you
and all who are with you !"—these suspicions were lulled and
almost destroyed in his breast, and in that of Teligny, his son-
in-law, to whom the king was especially kind and attentive,
calling him "brother," as he called the admiral his "father,"
and behaving to him as he did to his best friends.
The Huguenots, then, excepting some few morose and suspi-
cious spirits, were completely re-assured. The death of the
Queen of Navarre passed over, as having been caused by a
pleurisy, and the spacious apartments of the Louvre were filled
with those brave Protestants to whom the marriage of their
young chief, Henry, promised an unexpected return of good
fortune. Admiral Coligny, La Rochefoucault, the young Prince
de Conde, Teligny, in short, all the leaders of the party, were
triumphant when they saw so powerful at the Louvre, and so
4
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
welcome in Paris, those whom, three months before, King
Charles and Queen Catherine would have hanged on gibbets
higher than those of assassins. The king, the queen, the Duke
d'Anjou, and the Duke d'Alengon did the honours of the royal
fete with all courtesy and kindness.
The Duke d'Anjou received from the Huguenots themselves
well-merited compliments as to the two battles of Jarnac and
Montcontour, which he had gained before he was eighteen
years of age, more precocious in that than either Caesar or
Alexander, to whom they compared him, of course placing the
conquerors of. Pharsalia and Issus as inferior to the living
prince. The Duke d'Alengon looked on, with his bland, false
smile, whilst Queen Catherine, radiant with joy and diffuse in
compliment, congratulated Prince Henry de Conde on his
recent marriage with Marie de Cleves, and the Messieurs de
Guise themselves looked gracious on the formidable enemies
of their house, and the Duke de Mayenne discoursed with M. de
Tavanne and the admiral on the impending war, which was now
more than ever threatened against Philippe II.
In the midst of these groups moved backwards and forwards,
his head a little on one side, his ear open to all that was said,
a young man about nineteen years of age, with a keen eye,
black hair cut very close, thick eyebrows, and a nose curved
like an eagle's, with a sneering smile and a growing moustache
and beard. This young man, who had first distinguished himself
at the battle of Arnay-le-Duc, for which he had been very highly
complimented, was the dearly beloved pupil of Coligny, and
the hero of the day. Three months anterior, that is to say,
when his mother was living, they called him the Prince of
Beam, now he was called the King of Navarre, and in after-
time, Henry IV.
From time to time a gloomy cloud passed suddenly and
rapidly over his brow; questionless, he recollected that " two
months, two little months," had scarce elapsed since his mother's
death, and he less than any one doubted that she had been
poisoned. But the cloud was transitory, and disappeared like
a fleeting shadow, for they who spoke to him, they who con-
gratulated him, they who elbowed him, were they who had assas-
sinated the brave Jeanne d'Albret.
Some paces distant from the King of Navarre, almost as
pensive and gloomy as the king affected to be joyous and free
from cares, was the young Duke de Guise, conversing with
II. DE GUISE'S LATIN,\
5
Teligny. More fortunate than the Bearnais, at two-and-twenty
he had almost attained the reputation of his father, Frangois,
the great Duke de Guise. He was an elegant gentleman, very
tall, with a noble and haughty look, and gifted with that natural
majesty, which caused it to be said that by his side other princes
seemed to belong to the people. Young as he was, the Catholics
looked up to him as the chief of their party, as the Huguenots
considered Henry of Navarre, whose portrait we have just
drawn, to be their chief. He had heretofore borne the title of
Prince de Joinville, and at the siege of Orleans fought his first
fight under his father, who died in his arms, denouncing Admiral
Coligny as his assassin. It was then the young duke, like
Hannibal, took a solemn oath to avenge his father's death on
the admiral and his family, and to pursue the foes to his religion
without truce or respite, promising God to be his exterminating
angel on earth, until the very last heretic should be cut off. It
was therefore with the deepest astonishment that the people saw
this prince, usually so faithful to his word, extend the hand of
fellowship to those whom he had sworn to hold as his eternal
enemies, and discourse familiarly with the son-in-law of the man
whose death he had promised to his dying father.
But as we have said, this was an evening of astonishments.
All continued smilingly within, and a murmur more soft and
flattering than ever pervaded the Louvre at the moment when
the youthful bride, after having laid aside her toilette of cere-
mony, her long mantle and flowing veil, returned to the ball-
room, accompanied by the lovely Duchess de Nevers, her most
intimate friend, and led by her brother, Charles IX., who pre-
sented her to the principal guests.
The bride was the daughter of Henry" II., was the pearl of
the crown of France, Marguerite de Valois, whom, in his
familiar tenderness for her, King Charles IX. always called ma
sceur Mar got, "my sister Madge."
Never was a more flattering reception, never one more
merited, than that which awaited the new Queen of Navarre.
Marguerite at this period was scarcely twenty, and already she
was the object of all the poets' eulogies, some of whom compared
her to Aurora, others to Cytherea; she was, in truth, a beauty
without rival in that court in which Catherine de Medicis had
assembled the loveliest women of the age and country.
She had black hair and a brilliant complexion; a voluptuous
eye, veiled by long lids, coral and delicate lips, a graceful
6 MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
neck, a full, enchanting figure, and concealed in a satin slipper
a tiny foot, scarce larger than an infant's. The French, who
possessed her, were proud to see so lovely a flower flourishing
in their soil, and foreigners who passed through France returned
home dazzled with her beauty, if they had but seen her, and
amazed at her knowledge, if they had discoursed with her ; for
not only was Marguerite the loveliest, she was also the most
erudite, woman of her time, and on all sides was quoted the
remark of an Italian savant who had been presented to her, and
who, after having conversed with her for an hour in Italian,
Spanish, and Latin, had said, on quitting her presence : " To
see the court without seeing Marguerite de Valois, is to see
neither France nor the court."
Thus it may be supposed, that addresses to King Charles IX.
and the Queen of Navarre were not wanting. The Huguenots
were great hands at addresses. Many strong hints to the past,
and stronger hints as to the future, were adroitly slipped into
these harangues; but to all such allusions and speeches he
replied, with his pale lips and artificial smiles :
" In giving my sister Margot to Henry of Navarre, I give my
sister to all the Protestants of the kingdom."
This phrase assured some and made others smile, for it had
really a double sense: the one paternal, and with which
Charles IX. would not load his mind ; the other, injurious to the
bride, her husband, and also to him who said it, for it recalled
some scandalous rumours with which the chroniclers of the
court had already found means to smirch the nuptial robe of
Marguerite de Valois.
However, M. de Guise was conversing, as we have described,
with Teligny ; but he did not pay to the conversation such sus-
tained attention but that he turned away somewhat, from time
to time, to cast a glance at the group of ladies, in the centre of
whom glittered the Queen of Navarre. When the princess's
eye thus met that of the young duke, a cloud seemed to over-
spread that lovely brow, around which stars of diamonds formed
a tremulous circlet, and some agitating thought might be divined
in her restless and impatient manner.
The Princess Claude, the eldest sister of Marguerite, who
had been for some years married to the Duke of Lorraine, had
observed this uneasiness, and going up to her, was about to
inquire the cause, when all stood aside at the approach of the
queen-mother, who came forward, leaning on the arm of the
M. DE GUISE'S LATIN.
1
young Prince de Conde, and the princess was thus suddenly
shut out from her sister. There was then a general movement,
by which the Duke de Guise profited to approach Madame de
Nevers, his sister-in-law, and Marguerite.
Madame de Lorraine, who had not lost sight of her sister,
then remarked, instead of the cloud which she had before
observed on her forehead, a burning blush come into her
cheeks. The duke approached still nearer, and when he was
within two steps of Marguerite, she appeared rather to feel than
see his presence, and turned round, making a violent effort over
herself in order to give her features an appearance of calmness
and indifference. The duke, then respectfully bowing, mur-
mured, in a low tone, "Ipse cittidiP—" I have brought it."
Marguerite returned the salute of the young duke, and as she
stooped, replied, in the same tone, " Noctu pro moreP—" To-
night, as usual."
These words, uttered softly, were so lost in the enormous
collar which the princess wore, as to be heard only by the
person to whom they were addressed; but brief as had been
the conference, it doubtless composed all the young couple had
to say, for after this exchange of two words for three, they
separated, Marguerite more thoughtful, and the duke with his
brow less clouded than when they met. This little scene took
place without the person most interested appearing to remark
it, for, on his side, the King of Navarre had eyes but for one
individual amongst those whom Marguerite de Valois had
around her, and that was the lovely Madame de Sauve.
Charlotte de Beaune-Semblangay, grand-daughter of the un-
fortunate Semblangay, and wife of.Simon de Fizes, Baron de
Sauve, was one of the ladies in waiting to Catherine de Media's.,
and one of the most redoubtable auxiliaries of this queen,
who poured forth to her enemies philtres of love when she dared
not pour out Italian poison. Delicately fair, and by turns
sparkling with vivacity or languishing in melancholy, always
ready for lave or intrigue, the two great occupations which
for fifty years employed the court of the three succeeding kings :
a woman in every acceptation of the word, and in all the charm
of the idea, from the blue eye, languishing or beaming fire,
to the small and perfectly formed feet, hidden in their slippers
of velvet, Madame de Sauve had already for some months
seized on every faculty of the King of Navarre, then making
his debtit as lover as well as politician, so completely, that
8
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
Marguerite de Valois, a magnificent and royal beauty, had not
even excited admiration in the heart of her spouse ; and what
was more strange, and astonished all the world, even on the
part of that soul so full of darkness and mystery, Catherine de
Medicis, whilst she prosecuted her project of union between her
daughter and the King of Navarre, had not ceased to favour
almost openly his amour with Madame de Sauve. But despite
this powerful aid, and despite the easy manners of the age, the
lovely Charlotte had hitherto resisted; and this resistance, un-
heard-of, incredible, unprecedented, even more than the beauty
and wit of her who resisted, had excited in the heart of the
Bearnais a passion which, unable to satisfy itself, had de-
stroyed in the young king's heart all timidity, pride, and even that
carelessness, half philosophy, half idleness, which formed the
basis of his character.
Madame de Sauve had been only a few minutes in the apart-
ment; from spite or grief, she had at first resolved on not being
present at her rival's triumph, and under the pretext of an
indisposition, had allowed her husband, who had been for
five years secretary of state, to go alone to the Louvre; but
when Catherine de Medicis saw the baron without his wife,
had learned the cause that kept away her dear Charlotte, and
that the indisposition was but slight, she wrote a few words
to her, which the lady instantly obeyed. Henry, sad as he had
at first been at her absence, had yet breathed more freely
when he saw M. de Sauve enter alone; but at the moment
when, not expecting her appearance, he was about to pay some
court to the charming creature whom he was condemned, if not
to love, at least to treat as his wife, he saw Madame de Sauve
arise, as it were, from the further end of the gallery. He was
nailed to the place, his eyes fastened on the Circe, who
enthralled him as if by magic chains, and instead of continuing
his steps towards his wife, by a movement of hesitation which
betrayed more astonishment than alarm, he advanced to meet
Madame de Sauve.
The courtiers, seeing the King of Navarre, whose inflam-
mable heart they knew, approach the beautiful Charlotte, had
not the courage to prevent their meeting, but drew aside com-
plaisantly; so that at the same moment v/hen Marguerite de
Valois and M. de Guise exchanged the few words in Latin
which we have noted above, Henry, having approached
Madame de Sauve, began, in a French very intelligible,
M. DE GUISE'S LA TIM
9
although with somewhat of a Gascon accent, a conversation by
no means so mysterious.
"Ah, ma mieT he said, "you have, then, come at the very
moment when they assured me that you were unwell, and I had
lost all hope of seeing you ?"
"Your majesty," replied Madame de Sauve, "would perhaps
wish me to believe that it had cost you something to lose this
hope?"
"Sang Diou ! I believe it!" replied the Bearnais ; "know
you not that you are my sun by day, and my star by night ?
By my faith, I was in deepest darkness till you appeared and
illumined all."
" Then, monseigneur, I serve you a very ill turn.
" What mean you, ma mie ?" inquired Henry
" I mean that he who is master of the handsomest woman in
France should only have one desire—that the light should dis-
appear, and give way to darkness and to happiness."
" You know, cruel one, that my happiness is in the hands of
one woman only, and that she laughs at poor Henry."
" Oh!" replied the baroness, " I believed, on the contrary,
that it was this person who was the sport and jest of the King
of Navarre."
" By my faith, dearest, you reproach me very unjustly, and I
do not comprehend how so lovely a mouth can be so cruel.
Do you suppose for a moment that it is I who marry myself?
No, ventre-saint-gris, it is not I !"
" It is I, perhaps," said the baroness, sharply.
" With your lovely eyes have you not seen farther, baroness ?
No, no ; it is not Henry of Navarre who weds Marguerite de
Valois."
" And what is it, then ?"
" Why, sang Diou ! it is the Reformed religion which marries
the Pope—that's all."
" No, no ; your majesty loves Madame Marguerite. And
can I blame you? Heaven forbid ! She is beautiful enough
to be adored."
Henry reflected for a moment, and, as he reflected, a meaning
smile curled the corner of his lips.
"Baroness," said he, "you have no right to seek a quarrel
with me. What have you done to prevent me from espousing
Madame Marguerite? Nothing. On the contrary, you have
. always driven me to despair, and I wed her because you love
me not."
IO
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" If I had loved you, sire, I must have died in another hour."
" In another hour ! What do you mean ? And of what
death would you have died ?"
" Of jealousy !—for in another hour the Queen of Navarre
will send away her women, and your majesty your gentlemen."
" Is that really the thought that occupies your mind, ma mieT
- "I have not said so. I only say, that if I loved you it would
occupy my mind most tormentingly."
" But suppose," said Henry, " that the King of Navarre should
not send away his gentlemen this evening ?"
" Sire," replied Madame de Sauve, looking at the king with
astonishment for once unfeigned, " you say things impossible
and incredible."
" What must I do, to make you believe them ?"
" Give me a proof—and that proof you cannot give me."
" Yes, baroness, yes ! By Saint Henry, I will give it you !"
exclaimed the king, gazing amorously on her.
"Oh, your majesty!" murmured the lovely Charlotte, with
downcast eyes, " I do not comprehend."
" There are four Henries in this room, my adorable !" replied
the king. " Henry de France, Henry de Conde, Henry de
Guise : but there is only one Henry of Navarre."
" Well ?"_
"Well; if this Henry of Navarre is with you all night "
" All night !"
" Yes; then you will be certain that he is not with any other."
" Ah ! if you do that, sire," said Madame Sauve.
" On the honour of a gentleman, I will do it!"
Madame de Sauve raised her beaming and love-promising
eyes to the king, whose heart beat with joy.
" And then," said Henry, " what will you say ?"
" I will say," replied Charlotte, " that your majesty really
loves me."
" Ventre-saint-gris! then you shall say it. Have you not
about you some waiting-woman whom you can trust ?"
" Yes, Dariole is devoted to me."
" Sang-Dion ! then say to her, that I will make her fortune
when I am King of France, as the astrologers prophesy."
Charlotte smiled, for even at this period the Gascon reputa-
tion of the Bearnais was already established with respect to his
promises.
"Well, then, what do you desire of Dariole ?"
M. DE GUISES'LATIN.
II
" Little for her, a great deal for mei Your apartment is over
mine ?"
" Yes."
" Let her wait behind the door. I will strike three blows
gently, and "
Madame de Sauve kept silence for several seconds, and then,
as if she had looked around her to observe if she were over-
heard, she fastened her gaze for a moment on the group which
environed the queen-mother: brief as the moment was, it was
sufficient for Catherine and her lady-in-waiting to exchange a
look.
" Oh, if I were inclined," said Madame de Sauve, with a
syren's accent that would have melted Ulysses himself—" if I
were inclined to make your majesty tell a falsehood "
" Ma mie, try "
" Ah, ma foi! I confess I am tempted to do so."
" Women are never so strong as after their defeat."
" Sire, I hold you to your promise for Dariole, when you
shall be King of France."
Henry uttered an exclamation of joy.
It was at the precise moment when the cry escaped the lips
of the Bearnais, that the Queen of Navarre replied to the Duke
of Guise :
" Nociu pro more?
Then Henry quitted Madame de Sauve as happy as the
Duke de Guise when he quitted Marguerite de Yalois.
An hour after the double scene we have just related, King
Charles and the queen-mother also retired to their apartments.
Almost immediately the apartments began to empty; the
galleries exhibited the bases of their marble columns. The
admiral and the Prince de Conde were escorted home by four
hundred Huguenot gentlemen through the middle of the crowd,
which groaned as they passed. Then Henry de Guise, with
the Lorraine and Catholic gentlemen, left i*n their turn, greeted
by the cries of joy and plaudits of the people.
As to Marguerite de Valois, Henry of Navarre, and Madame
de Sauve, they lived in the Louvre.
13
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
CHAPTER II.
henry of navarre and marguerite.
The Duke de Guise escorted his sister-in-law, the Duchess de
Nevers, to his hotel in the Rue du Chaume, and then pro-
ceeded to his own apartment to change his dress, put on a
night cloak, and arm himself with one of those short and sharp
poniards which were called "foi degentilhomme" and were worn
without swords ; but at the moment when he took it off the
table on which it was placed, he perceived a small billet
between the blade and the scabbard.
He opened it, and read as follows :
" I hope M. de Guise will not return to the Louvre to-night;
or if he does,, that he will at least take the precaution to arm
himself with a good coat of mail and a proved sword."
" Ah ! ah !" said the duke, " this is a singular warning; but
I always take good advice—my steel jacket and my sword."
The valet-de-chambre, accustomed to these changes of
costume, brought both. The duke put on his jacket, which
was made of rings of steel so fine that it was scarcely thicker
than velvet; he then drew on a pardessus and pourpoint of
grey and silver, his favourite colours, placed a dagger by his
side, handed his sword to a page, the only attendant he allowed
to accompany him, and took the way to the Louvre, which he
reached in safety.
In front of the royal chateau was a deep fosse, looking into
which were the chambers of most of the princes who inhabited
the palace. Marguerite's apartment was on the first floor, and,
easily accessible but for the fosse, was, in consequence of the
depth to which that was cut, thirty feet from the bottom of the
wall, and consequently out of the reach of robbers or lovers;
but nevertheless the Duke de Guise approached it without
hesitation.
At the same moment was heard the noise of a window which
opened on the ground floor. This window was grated, but a
hand appeared, lifted out one of the bars that had been
loosened, and dropped from it a silken lace.
" Is that you, Gillonne?" said the duke, in a low voice.
"Yes, monseigneur," replied a female voice, in a still lower
tone.
" And Marguerite ?
HENRY OF NA VARRE ANN MARGUERITE.
"Awaits you."
«'Tis well."
Hereupon the duke made a signal to his page, who, opening
his cloak, took out a small rope ladder. The prince fastened
one end to the silk lace, and Gillonne drawing it up, fastened
it, and the prince, after having buckled his sword to his belt,
ascended without accident. When he entered, the bar was
replaced and the window closed, whilst the page, having seen
his master quietly enter the Louvre, to the windows of which
he had accompanied him twenty times in the same way, laid
himself down in his cloak on the grass of the fosse, and beneath
the shadow of the wall.
The night was extremely dark, and several large rain-spots
fell from the heavy clouds charged with electric fluid.
The Duke de Guise followed his conductress, who was no
other than the daughter of Jacques de Mantignon, marechal of
France. She was the confidant of Marguerite, who kept no
secret from her; and it was said that amongst the number of
mysteries entrusted to her incorruptible fidelity, there were
some so terrible as to compel her to keep the rest.
There was no light left either in the lower chamber or in the.
corridor, only from time to time a livid glare illuminated the
dark apartments with a vivid flash, which as instantly bis-
appeared.
The duke, still guided by his conductress, who held his hand,
reached a staircase formed in the thickness of the wall, and
which opened by a secret and invisible door into the ante-
chamber of Marguerite's apartment.
In this antechamber, which was perfectly dark, Gillonr.e
stopped.
" Have you brought what the queen requested ?" she in-
quired, in a low voice.
" Yes," replied the Duke de Guise ; " but I will only give it
to her majesty in person."
" Come, then, and do not lose an instant!" said a voice
from the darkness, which made the duke start, for it was
Marguerite's.
At the same moment a curtain of violet velvet covered with
fleurs-de-lis was raised, and the duke made out the form of the
queen, who, in her impatience, had come to meet him.
" I am here, madame," he then said ; and he passed the
curtain, which fell behind him. Gillonne remained in the ante-
chamber.
H
MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
As if she comprehended the jealousies of the duke, Mai*-
guerite led him to the bed-chamber, and then paused.
" Well," she said, " are you content, duke?"
" Content, madame ?" was the reply—" and with what ?"^
" Of the proof I give you," retorted Marguerite, with a slight
tone of vexation in her voice, " that I belong to a man, who,
on the very night of his marriage, makes me of such small
importance that he does not even come to thank me for the
honour I have done him, not in selecting, but in accepting him
for my husband."
"Oh ! madame," said the duke, sorrowfully, "be assured he
will come if you desire it."
" And is it you who say that, Henry ?" cried Marguerite ;
" you, who better than any know the contrary of what you say.
If I had that desire, should I have asked you to come to the
Louvre ?"
"You have asked me to come to the Louvre, Marguerite;
because you are anxious to destroy every vestige of the past,
and because that past lives not only in my memory, but in this
silver casket which I bring to you."
" Henry, shall I say one thing to you?" replied Marguerite:
" it is that you are more like a schoolboy than a prince. I
deny that I have loved you ! I desire to quench a flame which
will die, perhaps, but whose reflection will never die! No, no,
duke ; you may keep the letters of your Marguerite, and the
casket she has given you. From these letters she asks but
one, and that only, because it is as dangerous for you as for
herself."
" It is all yours," said the duke.
Marguerite searched anxiously in the open casket, and with a
tremulous hand took, one after the other, a dozen letters, of
which she examined the addresses only, as if by the inspection
alone of these she could recall to her memory what the letters
themselves contained; but after a close scrutiny, she looked at
the duke, pale and agitated:
" Sir," she said, " what I seek is not here. Have you lost it,
by any accident ?"
" What letter do you seek, madame .
" That in which I told you to marry without delay."
" As an excuse for your infidelity?"
Marguerite shrugged her shoulders.
" No; but to save your life. That one in which I say to you
&ENRY OF NA VARRE AND MARGUERITE. i$
that the king, seeing our love and my exertions to break off
your proposed espousals with the Infanta of Portugal, had sent
for his brother, the Bastard of Angouleme, and said to him,
pointing to two swords, ' With this slay Henry de Guise this
night, or with the other I will slay thee in the morning.' Where
is that letter ?"
" Here," said the duke, drawing it from his breast.
Marguerite snatched it from his hands, opened it anxiously, as-
sured herself that it was really that which she desired, uttered an
exclamation of joy, and applying the lighted candle to it, the
flames instantly consumed the paper : then, as if Marguerite
feared that her imprudent words might be read in the very ashes,
she trampled them underfoot.
During all this, the Duke de Guise had watched his mistress
attentively.
" Well, Marguerite," he said, when she had finished, " are
you satisfied now ?"
" Yes, for now you have wadded the Princess de Porcian, my
brother will forgive me your love : whilst he never would have
pardoned me for revealing a secret such as that which in my
weakness for you I had not the strength to conceal from you."
"True," replied De Guise, "then, you loved me."
" And I love you still, Henry, as much—more than ever !"
" You ....?"
" I do ; for never more than at this moment did I need a
sincere and devoted friend. Queen, 1 have no throne : wife, I
have no husband 1"
The young prince shook his head sorrowfully.
" I tell you, I repeat to you, Henry, that my husband not only
does not love me, but hates—despises me; besides, methinks,
your presence in the chamber in which he ought to be is full of
proof of this hatred, this contempt."
" It is not yet late, madame, and the King of Navarre
requires time to dismiss his gentlemen; and if he has not
already come, he will not be long first."
" And I tell you," cried Marguerite, with increasing vexation
—" I tell you that he will not come !"
" Madame !" exclaimed Gillonne, suddenly entering—" the
King of Navarre is just leaving his apartment !"
"Oh, I knew he would come!" exclaimed the Duke de
Guise.
" Henry," said Marguerite, in a quick tone, and seizing the
16
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
duke's hand, "Henry, you shall see if I am a woman of my word,
and if I may be relied on. Henry, enter that closet."
" Madame, allow me to go whilst it is yet time, for reflect that
the first mark of love you bestow on him, I shall quit the cabinet,
and then woe to him !"
" Are you mad ? go in—go in, I say, and I will be respon-
sible for all." And she pushed the duke into the closet.
It was time. The door was scarcely closed behind the prince,
than the King of Navarre, escorted by two pages, who carried
eight flambeaux of pink wax in two candelabras, appeared,
smiling, on the threshold of the chamber.
Marguerite concealed her trouble, and made a very low
courtesy.
" You are not yet in bed, madame," observed the Bearnais,
with his frank and joyous look. " Were you by chance waiting
for me ?"
"No, sir," replied Marguerite; "for yesterday you repeated
to me that our marriage was a political alliance, and that you
would never thwart my wishes."
" Assuredly; but that is no reason why we should not confer
a little together. Gillonne, close the door, and leave us."
Marguerite, who was sitting, then rose and extended her hand,
as if to desire the pages to remain.
" Must I call your women ?" inquired the king. " I will do
so, if such be your desire, although I confess that what I have
to say to you would make me prefer our being alone."
And the King of Navarre advanced towards the closet.
" No !" exclaimed Marguerite, hastily going before him ; "no
—there is no occasion for that; I am ready to hear you."
The Bearnais had learned what he desired to know—he threw
a rapid and penetrating glance towards the cabinet, as if, in
spite of the thick curtain which hung before it, he would dive
into its obscurity, and then, turning his looks to his lovely wife,
pale with terror, he said, with the utmost composure :
" In that case, madame, let us confer for a few moments."
" As your majesty pleases," said the lady, falling into, rather
than sitting upon, the seat which her husband pointed out to
her.
The Bearnais placed himself beside her.
" Madame," he continued, "whatever many persons may have
said, I think our marriage is a good' marriage. I stand well
with you—you stand well with me."
HENRY OF NAVARRE AND MARGUERITE.
17
" But " said Marguerite, alarmed.
" Consequently, we ought," observed the King of Navarre,
" to act to each other like good allies, since we were to-day
allied in the presence of God. Don't you think so ?"
" Unquestionably, sir."
" I know, madame, how great your penetration is; I know
how the ground at court is intersected with dangerous abysses ;
now I am young, and although I never injured any person, I
have a great many enemies. In which camp, madame, ought I
to range her who bears my name, and who has vowed her
affection to me at the foot of the altar ?"
" Sir, could you think "
" I think nothing, madame; I hope, and I am anxious to
know that my hope is well founded. It is quite certain that
our marriage is merely a pretext or a snare."
Marguerite started, for perchance the same thought had
occurred to her own mind.
" Now, then, which of the two ?" continued Henry of Na-
varre. "The king hates me, the Duke d'Anjou hates me, the
Duke d'Alengon hates me, Catherine de Medicis hated my
mother too much not to hate me."
" Oh, sir, what are you saying ?"
" The truth, madame," replied the king; " and I wish, in
order that it may not be supposed that I am the dupe of the
assassination of M. de Mouy and the poisoning of my mother,
that some one were here who could hear me."
"Oh, sir," replied Marguerite, with an air as calm and
smiling as she could assume, " you know very well that there
is no person here but you and myself."
" It is for that very reason that I thus give vent to my
thoughts; this it is that emboldens me to declare that I am
not the dupe of the caresses showered on me by the House of
France or the House of Lorraine."
" Sir, sir I" exclaimed Marguerite.
"Well, what is it, ma mie?" inquired Henry, spiiling in his
turn.
'' Why, sir, such remarks are very dangerous."
"Not when we are alone," observed the king. "I was
saying "
Marguerite was evidently distressed; she desired to stop
every word the king uttered, but he continued, with his apparent
indifference—>
i8
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" I was telling you, that I was menaced on all sides ; menaced
by the king, menaced by the Duke d'Alenqon, menaced by thi
Duke d'Anjou, menaced by the queen-mother, menaced by the
Duk6 de Guise, by the Duke de Mayenne, by the Cardinal de
Lorraine—menaced, in fact, by everybody. One feels that
instinctively, as you know, madame. Well, against all these
menaces, which must soon become attacks, I can defend myself
by your aid, for you are beloved by all the persons who
detest me."
" I ?" said Marguerite.
" Yes, you," replied Henry, with the utmost easiness of
manner; " yes, you are beloved by King Charles, you are
beloved (he laid strong emphasis on the word) by the Duke
d'Alengon, you are beloved by Queen Catherine, and you are
beloved by the Duke de Guise."
" Sir !'' murmured Marguerite.
"Yes; and what is there astonishing in the fact of all the
world loving you ? All I have mentioned are your brothers or
relatives. To love one's brothers and relatives is to live
according to the heart of God."
" But what, then," asked Marguerite, greatly overcome—
" what would you have ?"
" I would say, that if you will—I will not ask you to love me
—but if you will be my ally, I could brave everything ; whilst,
on the other hand, if you become my enemy, I am lost."
" Oh, your enemy !—never, sir !" exclaimed Marguerite.
" And my love—never either ?"
" Perhaps "
" And my ally ?"
" Most decidedly."
And Marguerite turned round, and presented her hand to
the king.
Henry took it, kissed it gallantly, and retaining it irt his own,
more from a desire of investigation than from any sentiment of
tenderness, said :
"Well, madame, I believe you, and accept the alliance.
They married us without our knowing each other—without our
loving each other; they married us without consulting us—us
whom they united. We therefore owe nothing to each other,
as man and wife; but we ally ourselves freely and without any
compulsion. We ally ourselves, as two loyal hearts who owe
each other mutual protection should ally themselves; 'tis as
such you understand it ?"
BENR Y OF NA VARRE AND MARG17ERITE. 19
" Yes, sir," said Marguerite, endeavouring to withdraw her
hand.
" Well, then," continued the Bdarnais, with his eyes fixed on
the cabinet, "as the first proof of a frank alliance is the most
perfect confidence, I will now, madame, relate to you, in all its
details, the plan I have formed, in order that we may victori-
ously meet and overcome all these enemies."
"Sir," said Marguerite, turning her eyes towards the closet,
whilst the Bearnais, seeing his trick succeed, laughed in his
sleeve.
" This is what I mean to do," he continued, without appear-
ing to remark the uneasiness of his young wife, " I intend "
" Sir," said Marguerite, rising hastily, and seizing the king's
arm—" allow me a little breath : my emotion—the heat—over-
powers me."
And, in truth, Marguerite was as pale and trembling as if she
was about to fall on the carpet.
Henry went straight to a window some distance off, and
' opened it. , This window looked on the river.
Marguerite followed him. " Silence, sire—silence, for pity's
sake !" she murmured.
" What, madame," said the Bearnais, with his peculiar smile,
" did you not say we were alone ?"
"Yes, sir; but have you not heard me say that by the aid of
a tube introduced into the ceiling or the wall everything could
be heard ?"
"Well, madame, well," said the Bearnais, earnestly, and in a
low voice; " it is true you do not love me, but you are, at least,
honourable."
"What do you mean, sir?"
" I mean that if you were capable of betraying me, you would
have allowed me to continue, as I might have betrayed myself.
You stopped me—I now know that some one is concealed here
—that you are an unfaithful wife, but a faithful ally ; and, at
this moment, I have more need of fidelity in politics than
in love."
" Sir!" replied Marguerite, confused.
" Good, good; we will talk of this hereafter," said Henry,
" when we know each other better."
Then, raising his voice—"Well," he continued, "do you
breathe more freely now, madame ?"
"Yes, sir—yes!"
2—2
20
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Well, then," said the Be'arnais, " I will no longer intrude
on you. I owed you my respects, and some advances towards
better acquaintance; deign, then, to accept them, as they are
offered, with all my heart. Good-night, and happy slumbers !"
Marguerite raised to her husband her eyes, brilliant with
gratitude, and, in her turn, extended her hand.
" It is agreed," she said.
" Political alliance, frank, and loyal ?" asked Henry.
" Frank and loyal," was the reply.
And the Bearnais went towards the door, followed by
Marguerite's look. Then, when the curtain had fallen between
them and the bedchamber :
" Thanks, Marguerite," he said, in a quick and low tone,
"thanks! You are a true daughter of France. I leave you
quite tranquil; lacking your love, your friendship will not fail
me. I rely on you, as you, for your part, may rely on me.
Adieu, madame."
And Henry kissed his wife's hand, and pressed it gently.
Then with a quick step lie returned to his own apartment,
saying to himself, in a low voice, in the corridor:
"Who the devil is with her? Is it the king, or the Duke
d'Anjou, or the Duke d'Alengon, or the Duke de Guise? is it
a brother or a lover—is it both ? I' faith, I am almost sorry
now I asked the baroness for this rendezvous; but, as my word
is pledged, and Dariole awaits me, no matter. Yet, ventre-saint-
gris! this Margot, as my brother-in-law, King Charles, calls
her, is an adorable creature."
And with a step which betrayed a slight hesitation, Henry of
Navarre ascended the staircase which led to Madame de
Sauve's apartments.
Marguerite had followed him with her eyes until he disap-
peared. Then she returned to her chamber, and found the
duke at the door of the cabinet. The sight almost touched her
with remorse.
The duke was grave, and his knitted brow bespoke bitter
reflection.
" Marguerite is neutral to-day," he said—" Marguerite will be
hostile in a week."
" Ah ! you have been listening ?" said Marguerite.
" What else could I do in the cabinet ?"
" And did you find that I behaved otherwise than the Queen
of Navarre should behave?"
HENRY OF NA VARRE AND MARGUERITE. 21
" No ; but differently from the way in which the mistress of
the Duke de Guise should behave."
" Sir," replied the queen, " I may not love my husband, but
no one has the right to require me to betray him. Would you
yourself reveal the secrets of the Princess de Porcian, your
wife ?"
" Come, come, madame," answered the duke, shaking his
head, " this is very well; I see that you do not love me as in
those days when you disclosed to me the plot of the king
against me and my party."
" The king was strong, and you were weak; Henry is weak,
and you are strong. You see I play a consistent part."
" Only you pass from one camp to another."
" That was a right I acquired, sir, in saving your life."
" Good, madame : and as when lovers separate, they return
all the gifts that have passed between them, I will save your
life, in my turn, and we shall be quits."
And bowing politely, the duke left the room, nor did
Marguerite attempt to retain him.
In the antechamber he found Gillonne, who guided him to
the window on the ground-floor, and in the fosse he found his
page, with whom he returned to the Hotel de Guise.
Marguerite went to the opened window.
" What a marriage night!" she murmured to herself; " the
husband flies—the lover forsakes me !"
She shut the window, and called Gillonne to help her to un-
dress and retire to bed.
CHAPTER III.
the poet-king.
The morrow and the following days were passed in a succession
of balls, tournaments, and banquets. The king seemed to have
laid aside his usual melancholy, and the queen-mother was so
occupied with embroidery, ornaments, and plumes, that she
could not sleep.
The Huguenots, in some measure appeased, began to assume
silken pourpoints, wear devices, and parade before certain bal-
conies, as if they were Catholics.
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
On every side the reaction in favour of the Protestants was
so great, that it seemed the Court was about to become Pro-
testant itself; even the admiral, in spite of his discernment,
was deceived, and was so carried away, that one evening he
forgot for two whole hours his toothpick, which he always
used from two o'clock, the hour at which he dined, until eight
o'clock at night, when he sat down to supper.
The evening on which the admiral thus unaccountably de-
viated from his usual habit* King Charles IX. had invited
Henry of Navarre and the Duke de Guise to sup with him :
after the repast, he went into his chamber, and was busily ex-
plaining to them the mechanism of a wolf-trap he had invented,
when, interrupting himself—" The admiral does not come to-
night," said he ; " who has seen him to-day, and can tell me
anything about him ?"
" I have," said the King of Navarre; "and should your
majesty be anxious about him, I can reassure you, for I saw
him this morning at six, and this evening at seven o'clock."
" Ah, ah !" replied the king, whose eyes were instantly fixed
with a searching expression on his brother-in-law ; " for a new-
married man, Harry, you are very early."
" Yes, sire," answered the King of Navarre, " I wished to
inquire of the admiral, who knows everything, whether some
gentlemen I expect are on their way hither."
" More gentlemen ! why, you had eight hundred on the day
of your wedding, and fresh ones join you everyday. You are
surely not going to invade us ?" said Charles IX., smiling.
The Duke de Guise frowned.
" Sire," returned the Be'arnais, " a war with Flanders is
spoken of, and I am collecting round me all those gentlemen
of my country whom I think can be useful to your majesty."
The duke, calling to mind the pretended project Henry had
mentioned to Marguerite the day of their marriage, listened
still more attentively.
" Well, well," replied the king, with a sinister smile, " the
more the better; let them all come. But who are these gen-
tlemen ?—brave ones, I trust ?"
" I know not, sire, if my gentlemen will ever equal those of
your majesty, of the Duke d'Anjou, or of the Duke de Guise,
but I know that they will do their best."
" Do you expect many ?"
" Ten or twelve, perhaps."
THE POET-KING.
u What are their names ?'
" Sire, I cannot at this moment call any of them to mind,
with the exception of one, whom Teligny recommends to me
as a most accomplished gentleman, and whose name is De la
Mole."
" De la Mole !" said the king, who was perfectly acquainted
with the genealogy of all the noble families of France—" is he
not a Lerac de la Mole, a Provengal ?"
" Exactly so, sire ; you see, I recruit even in Provence."
"And I," added the Duke de Guise, with a sarcastic smile,
"go even further than the King of Navarre, for I seek even
in Piedmont all the brave Catholics I can find."
"Catholic or Huguenot," interrupted the king, "it little
matters to me, so they are brave."
The expression of the king's face whilst he uttered these
words, which thus united Catholics and Huguenots in his
thoughts, was so full of indifference, that the duke himself was
surprised.
"Your majesty is occupied with the Flemings," said the
admiral, to whom Charles had some days previously accorded
the favour of entering without being announced, and who had
overheard the. king's last words.
" Ah ! here is my father, the admiral!" cried Charles, open-
ing his arms. " We were speaking of battles, of gentlemen,
of brave men—and he comes. It is like the loadstone, that
attracts the iron. My brother-in-law of Navarre and my cousin
of Guise were speaking of reinforcements they expect for your
army. That was the subject of our conversation."
"And these reinforcements are come," said the admiral.
" Plave you any intelligence of them, monsieur ?" asked the
Bearnais.
"Yes, my son, and particularly of M. de la Mole; he was
at Orleans yesterday, and will be in Paris to-morrow, or the
day after."
" The devil ! You must be a sorcerer, M. l'Amiral," said
the Duke de Guise, "to know what is passing at thirty or
forty leagues' distance. For my part, I should like to know
for a certainty what will happen, or what has happened, at
Orleans."
Coligny remained unmoved by this speech, which evi-
dently alluded to the death of Frangois de Guise, the duke's
father, killed before Orleans by Poltrot de Mere, and not
24
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
without a suspicion of the admiral's having been concerned in
the murder.
"Sir," replied he, coldly, and with dignity, "I am a sorcerer
whenever I wish to know anything that concerns my own affairs
or those of the king. My courier arrived an hour ago from
Orleans, having travelled, thanks to the post, thirty-two leagues
in a day. As M. de la Mole only has his own horse, he rides
but ten leagues a-day, and can only arrive in Paris on the 24th.
Here is all my magic."
"Bravo, my father !" cried Charles IX. ; "teach these young
men what the wisdom is, accompanied by age, which has
whitened your hair and beard; so now we will send them to
talk of love and tournaments, and we will ourselves discourse
of our wars. Good councillors make good kings. Leave us,
gentlemen ; we would be alone."
The two young men left the apartment; the King of
Navarre first, then the Duke de Guise; but outside the door
they separated, after a formal salute.
Coligny followed them with his eyes, not without disquietude:
for he never saw these two men, who cherished so deadly a
hate against each other, meet, without a dread that some spark
would kindle a conflagration. Charles saw what was passing
in his mind, and, laying his hand on his arm:
" Fear nothing, my father : I am here to preserve peace and
obedience. I am really a king, now that my mother is no
longer queen, and she is no longer queen since Coligny became
my father."
"Oh, sire !" said the admiral, " the Queen Catherine "
" Is a quarrel-monger. Peace is impossible with her. These
Italian Catholics are furious, and will hear of nothing but ex-
termination ; now, for my part, I not only wish to pacify, but
I wish to protect those of the Reformed religion. The others
are too dissolute, and scandalize me with their amours and .
their quarrels. Shall I speak frankly to you ?" continued
Charles, redoubling in energy. " I mistrust every one about
me, except my new friends. I suspect the ambition of Ta-
vannes ; Vieilleville only cares for good wine, and would
betray his king for a cask of Malvoisie; Montmorency only
thinks of the chase, and lives amongst his dogs and falcons ;
the Count de Retz is a Spaniard; the Guises are Lorraines.
I think there are no true .Frenchmen in France, except myself,
my brother-in-law of Navarre, and yourself; but I am chained
THE POET-KING.
25
to the throne, and cannot command the army -t it is as much
as I can do to hunt at St. Germains or Rambouillet. My
brother-in-law of Navarre is too young and too inexperienced,
besides, he seems to me exactly like his father Antoine, ruined
by women. There is but you, my father, who can be called,
at the same time, brave as Caesar and wise as Plato ; so that I
scarcely know what to do—keep you near me, as my adviser,
or send you to the army, as its general. If you counsel me,
who will command? If you command, who will counsel me ?"
" Sire," said Coligny, "we must conquer first, and then take
counsel after the victory."
" That is your advice—so be it; Monday you shall leave for
Flanders, and I for Amboise."
" Your majesty leaves Paris, then ?"
"Yes ; I am weary of this confusion, and of these fetes. I
am not a man of action ; I am a dreamer. I was not born to
be a king : I was born to be a poet. You shall form a council
—as long as my mother has no influence there, all will go well.
I have alreadysent word to Ronsard to meet me, and at this
moment I must go and reply to a sonnet my dear and illus-
trious poet has sent me. I cannot, therefore, now give you the
documents necessary to make you acquainted with the question
now debating between Philip II. and myself. There is, besides,
a plan of the campaign drawn up by my ministers. I will find
it all for you, and give it to you to-morrow."
" At what o'clock, sire ?"
" At ten o'clock; and if by chance I am busy making
verses, or in my cabinet writing, well—you will find all the
papers in this red morocco portfolio. The colour is remark-
able, and you cannot mistake it. I am now going to write to
Ronsard."
" Adieu, sire!"
" Adieu, my father !"
" Your hand- "
" What, my hand ? In my arms, in my heart, there is your
place ! Come, my old soldier, come !
And Charles, drawing Coligny towards him as he inclined
himself before him, pressed his lips to his forehead.
The admiral wiped a tear from his eyes as he left the room.
Charles followed him with his eyes as long as he could see,
and listened as long as he could catch a sound ; and when he
could no longer hear or see anything, he turned and entered
26
MARGUERITE DE VALO/S.
his small armoury. This armoury was the favourite apartment of
the king. It was there he took his fencing lessons with Pompde,
and his lessons of poetry with Ronsard. He had assembled
there all the most costly arms he had been able to collect.
The walls were hung with axes, shields, spears, halberds,
pistols, and muskets, and that day a famous armourer had
brought him a magnificent arquebuss, on the barrel of which
were encrusted, in silver, these four verses, composed by the
royal poet himself:
" Pour maintenir la foy,
Je suis belle et fidele,
Aux ennemis du Roi,
Je suis belle et cruelle."
Charles entered, as we have said, this room, and after having
shut the door by which he had entered, he raised the tapestry
that masked a passage leading into a little chamber, where a
female, kneeling, was saying her prayers.
As this movement was executed noiselessly, and the footsteps
of the king were deadened by the thick carpet, the female
heard no sound, and continued to pray. Charles stood for a
moment pensively looking at her.
She was a woman of thirty-four or thirty-five years of age,
whose masculine beauty was set off by the costume of the pea-
sants of Caux. She wore the high cup so much the fashion at
the court of France during the time of Isabel of Bavaria, and
her bodice was red and embroidered with gold, like those
of the contadine of Nettuno and Sora. The apartment which
she had for nearly twenty years occupied, was close to the bed-
chamber of the king, and presented a singular mixture of
elegance and rusticity. The palace had encroached upon the
cottage, and the cottage, upon the palace, so that the chamber
was between the simplicity of the peasant and the luxury of
the court lady.
The prie-dieu on which she knelt was of oak, beautifully
carved, covered with velvet, and embroidered with gold, whilst
the Bible (for she was of the Reformed religion), from which she
was reading, was very old and torn, like those found in the
poorest cottages.
" Eh, Madelon !" said the king.
The kneeling female lifted her head smilingly at the well-
known voice, and rising from her knees,—
THE POET-KING.
2j
" Ah ! it is you, my son," said she.
"Yes, nurse ; come here."
Charles IX. let fall the curtain, and sat down on the arm of
a large chair. The nurse appeared.
" What do you want with me, Charles ?"
" Come near, and answer in a low tone."
The nurse approached him with familiarity.
" Here I am," said she ; " speak !"
" Is the person I sent for there ?"
" He has been there half an hour."
Charles rose from his seat, approached the window, looked
to assure himself there were no eavesdroppers, went towards
the door, and looked out there also, shook the dust from his
trophies of arms, patted a large greyhound which followed him
wherever he went, stopping when he stopped, and moving when
he moved—then returning to his nurse :
" Let him come in, nurse," said he.
The nurse disappeared by the same passage by which she
had entered, whilst the king went and leaned against a table on
which were scattered arms of every kind. Scarcely had he
done so, when the tapestry was again lifted, and the person
whom he expected entered.
He was a man of about forty, his large grey eyes full of
treachery and falsehood, his nose curved like the beak of a
screech-owl, his cheek-bones prominent. His face in vain
sought to assume an expression of respect, but naught but fear
appeared on his blanched lips.
Charles gently put his hand behind him, and grasped the
butt of a pistol cf a new construction, that was discharged, not
by a match, as formerly, but by a flint brought in contact with
a wheel of steel. He fixed his eyes steadily on the new comer,
whilst he whistled, with the most perfect precision, one of his
favourite hunting airs.
After a pause of some minutes, during which the expression
of the stranger's visage grew more and more discomposed :
"You are the person," said the king, "called Francois de
Louviers Maurevel ?"
" Yes, sire."
" Captain of musqueteers ?"
"Yes, sire."
" I wished to see you."
Maurevel inclined himself profoundly.
28
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"You know," continued Charles, laying a stress on each
word, " that I love all my subjects equally ?"
" I know," stammered Maurevel, " that your majesty is the
father of your people."
"And that the Huguenots and Catholics are equally my
children ?"
Maurevel remained silent, but his agitation was manifest to
the piercing eyes of the king, although lie was almost concealed
in the obscurity.
" This displeases you," said the king, " who are so great an
enemy to the Huguenots."
Maurevel fell on his knees.
" Sire," stammered he, "believe that- "
" I believe," continued Charles, whose eye now changed its
glassy look for one that seemed of fire—" I believe that you
had a great desire at Moncontour to kill the admiral, who has
just left me ; I believe you missed your aim, and that then you
entered the army of my brother, the Due d'Anjou; I believe
that you enlisted into the company of M. de Mouy de St.
Phale."
"Oh, sire!"
" A brave gentleman from Picardy."
" Sire, sire !" cried Maurevel, " do not overwhelm me."
" He was a brave soldier," continued Charles, whose fea-
tures assumed an aspect of almost ferocious cruelty, " who
received you as if you had been his son ; fed you, lodged you,
and clothed you."
Maurevel uttered a despairing sigh.
" You called him your father, and a tender friendship ex-
isted between you and the young De Mouy."
Maurevel, still on his knees, bent himself more and more;
the king stood immovable, like a statue whose lips only are
endowed with vitality.
_ " By the way," continued the king, " M. de Guise was to
give you ten thousand crowns if you killed the admiral—was
he not ?" The assassin struck his forehead against the floor.
" One day that your father, the Sieur de Mouy, reconnoitred
near Chevreux, he let his whip fall, and dismounted to pick it
up. You were then alone with him ; you took a pistol from
your holster, and shot him in the back; then seeing he was
dead—for you killed him on the spot—you escaped on the
horse he had given you. This is your history, I believe ?"
THE POET-KING.
29
And as Maurevel remained mute under this accusation,
every circumstance of which was true, the king began to
whistle again, with the same precision and melody, the same
hunting air.
"Now then, murderer!" said he, "do you know I have a
great mind to hang you ?"
" Oh, sire !" cried Maurevel.
" Young De Mouy entreated me to do so only yesterday, and
I scarcely knew what answer to make him, for his demand was
but just."
Maurevel clasped his hands.
" All the more just, since I am, as you say, the father of my
people ; and that, as I answered you now, I being reconciled to
the Huguenots, they are as much my children as the Catholics."
" Sire," said Maurevel, in despair, " my life is in your hands ;
do with it what you will."
" You are quite right, and I would not give a halfpenny for
it."
"But, sire," asked the assassin, "is there no means of re-
deeming my crime ?"
'None, that I know of; only in your place—butdhank God
I am not "
" Well, sire, were you in my place ?" murmured Maurevel.
" I think I could extricate myself," said the king.
Maurevel raised himself on one knee and one hand, fixing
his eyes upon Charles.
" I am very fond of young De Mouy," said the king; " but,
I am equally fond of my cousin of Guise; and if my cousin
asked me to spare a man that the other wanted me to hang, I
confess I should be embarrassed; but for policy as well as re-
ligion's sake I should comply with Guise's request; for De Mouy,
although a brave gentleman, is but a petty personage compared
with a prince of Lorraine."
During these words, Maurevel slowly rose, like a man whose
life is saved.
"As in your situation it is very important to gain the duke's
favour, listen to what he said to me last night."
Maurevel drew nearer. •
" ' Imagine, sire,' said he to me, ' that every morning, at ten
o'clock, my deadliest enemy passes down the Rue Saint Ger-
main l'Auxerrois, on his return from the Louvre. I see him
from a barred window in the room of my old preceptor, the
3°
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S
Canon Pierre Pile, and I pray the devil to open the earth and
swallow him in its abysses.'—Now, Maurevel, perhaps if you
were the devil, it would please the duke ?"
" But, sire," stammered Maurevel, " I cannot make the earth
open."
" You made it open, however, wide enough for De Mouy.
It was with a pistol that . Have you this famous pistol
still ?"
"lama better marksman, sire, with an arquebuss than a
pistol," replied Maurevel, now quite reassured.
" Never mind," said the king; " I am sure M. de Guise will
not care how it is done, so it be done."
" But," said Maurevel, " I must have a weapon I can rely
on, as, perhaps, I shall have to fire from a long distance."
" I have ten arquebusses in this chamber," replied Charles
IX., " with which I hit a crown-piece at a hundred and fifty
paces—will you try one ?"
" Most willingly, sire !" cried Maurevel, advancing towards
the one that had been that day brought to the king..
" No ; not that one," said the king ; " I reserve that for my-
self. Some day I will have a grand hunt, and then I hope to
use it. Take any other you like."
Maurevel detached one from a trophy. " And who is this
enemy, sire ?'' asked he.
" How should I know," replied Charles, with a contemptuous
look.
" I must ask M. de Guise, then," faltered Maurevel.
The king shrugged his shoulders.
" Do not ask," said he ; "for M. de Guise will not answer.
People do not generally answer such questions; it is for those
who do not wish to be hanged to guess."
" But how shall I know him ?"
" I tell you he passes the canon's house every morning at ten
o'clock."
" So many pass, would your majesty deign to give me any
certain sign ?"
" Oh, to-morrow he will carry a red morocco portfolio under
his arm."
"That is sufficient, sire."
" You have still the horse M. de Mouv gave you, have you
not ?"
1" Sire, I have a horse that is fleeter than any other in France."
THE EVENING OF AUGUST 24, 1572.
31
" Oh, I am not in the least anxious about you • only it is as
well to let you know there is a back-door."
" Thanks, sire ; pray Heaven for me !"
" Oh, pray to the devil rather; for by his aid only can you
escape a halter."
" Adieu, sire."
" Adieu ! By the way, M. de Maurevel, remember, that if I
hear of you before ten to-morrow, or do not hear of you after-
wards, there is an oubliette at the Louvre."
And Charles began to whistle, with more than usual precision,
his favourite air,
CHAPTER IV.
the evening of the 24TH of august, 1572.
Our readers have not forgotten that in the previous chapter
Henry was anxiously expecting the arrival of a gentleman
named De la Mole.
This young gentleman, as the admiral had anticipated, en-
tered Paris by the gate of Saint Marcel, the evening of the
24th of August, 1572 ; and bestowing a contemptuous glance
on the numerous hostelries that displayed their picturesque
signs on either side of him, he rode on into the heart of the
city, and after having crossed the Place Maubert, Le Petit-Pont,
the Pont-Notre-Dame, and along the quays, he stopped at the
end of the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec.
The name pleased him, no doubt, for he entered the street,
and finding on his left a large plate of iron swinging, creaking
on its hinges, he stopped, and read these words, "La belle
Etoile" written on a scroll beneath the sign, which was a most
attractive one for a traveller, as it represented a fowl roasting
in the midst of a black sky, whilst a man in a red cloak held
out his hands and his purse towards it.
" Here," said the gentleman to himself, " is an inn that pro-
mises well, and the landlord must be a most ingenious fellow.
I have always heard that the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec was near the
Louvre ; and provided that the interior answers to the exterior,
I shall be admirably lodged."
Whilst this monologue was going on, another person entered
32
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
the other end of the street, and stopped also to admire the sign
of La belle Etoile.
The gentleman whom we already know, at least, by name,
rode a white horse, and wore a black doublet ornamented with
jet; his cloak was of violet velvet, his boots were of black
leather, and the hilts of his sword and dagger were of steel,
beautifully worked ; his age from twenty-four to twenty-five, his
complexion dark, his eyes blue ; a small moustache shaded a
beautifully cut mouth, full of pearly teeth, that seemed, when-
ever he showed them, to light up his whole face with a smile of
melancholy sweetness.
Nothing could form a greater contrast with him than the
second traveller. Beneath his slouched hat appeared a pro-
fusion of hair, rather red than brown; large grey eyes that on
the slightest occasion sparkled so fiercely, that they seemed
black ; a fair complexion, a light moustache, and splendid teeth,
completed his description ; and he was, with his white skin and
fine form, what is generally termed a handsome cavalier, and
during the last hour, which he had employed in staring up at all
the windows, the ladies had honoured him with no small share
of their attention.
He it was who first addressed the other gentleman, who was
with himself looking at the sign of La belle Etpile.
" Mordi! monsieur," said he, with the accent that charac-
terises the natives of Piedmont—" we are close to the Louvre,
are we not ? At all events, I think your choice is the same as
mine, and I am highly flattered by it."
"Monsieur," replied the other, with a provincial accent that
rivalled that of his companion, " I believe this inn is near the
Louvre, but I have not yet made up my mind to enter it."
" You are undecided; the house is tempting, nevertheless.
You must allow the sign is very inviting."
" Very ! and it is for that very reason I mistrust it, for Paris
is full of sharpers, and you may be just as well tricked by a
sign as by anything else."
" Mordi T replied the Piedmontese, " I don't care a fig for
their tricks; and if the host does not serve me a chicken as
well roasted as the one on his sign, I will put him on the spit
and roast him instead., Come, let us go in."
"You have decided me," said the Provencal, laughing;
" precede me, I beg."
" Impossible, monsieur—-I could not think of it; for I an}
THE EVENING OF AUGUST 24, 1572.
33
only your most obedient servant, the Count Annibal de Co-
connas."
"And I, monsieur, but the Count Joseph Boniface de Lerac
de la Mole, equally at your service."
"Since that is the case, let us take each other's arm, and go
in so."
The result of this proposition was, that the two young men
got off their horses, threw the bridles to the ostler, linked arms,
adjusted their swords, and advanced towards the door of the
inn, where stood mine host, who did not seem to notice them,
so busy was he talking with a tall man, wrapped in a large sad-
coloured cloak like an owl buried in her feathers.
The two gentlemen were so near the host and his friend in
the sad-coloured cloak, that Coconnas, impatient at being thus
neglected, touched his sleeve.
He appeared suddenly to perceive them, and dismissed his
friend with an " Au revoir ! be sure and let me know the hour
appointed."
"Well, monsieur le drole? said Coconnas, "'do not you see
we have business with you ?"
" I beg pardon, gentlemen," said the host; " I did not see
you."
"Eh, mordi! then you ought to have seen us; and now
that you do see us, say, ' M. le comte,' and not merely
4 monsieur.'"
La Mole stood by, leaving Coconnas, who seemed to have
undertaken the affair, to speak; but it was plain, from the
expression of his face, that he was fully prepared to act upon
occasion.
" Well, what is your pleasure, M. le comte ?" asked the land-
lord, in a quiet tone.
" Ah, that's better; is it not ?" said Coconnas, turning to La
Mole, who inclined his head, affirmatively. " Monsieur le comte
and myself wish to sup and sleep here to-night."
" Gentlemen," said the host, " I am very sorry, but I have
only one chamber, and I am afraid that would not suit you."
" So much the better," said La Mole; " we will go and lodge
somewhere else."
" I shall stay here," said Coconnas ; " my horse is tired. I
will have the room, since you will not."
" Ah ! that is quite different," replied the host, coolly. " I
cannot lodge you at all, then."
3
34
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Mordi !" cried Coco'nnas, "here's a pretty fellow ! Just
now you could not lodge us because we were two, and now
you have not room for one. You will not lodge us at all,
then ?"
" Since you take this high tone, gentlemen, I will answer you
frankly."
" Answer, then; only answer quickly."
" Well, then, I would rather not have the honour of lodging
you at all."
" For what reason ?" asked Coconnas, growing white with
rage.
" Because you have no servants, and for one master's room
full, I should have two servants' rooms empty; so that, if I let
you have the master's room, I run the risk of not letting the
others."
" M. de la Mole," said Coconnas, " do you not think we
ought to thrash this fellow ?"
" Decidedly," said La Mole, preparing himself, together with
Coconnas, to lay his whip over the host's back.
But the landlord, despite this demonstration, contented him-
self with retreating a step or two.
" It is easy to see," said he, in a tone of raillery, "that these
gentlemen are from the provinces. At Paris, it is no longer
the fashion to kill innkeepers—only great men are killed now-
a-days ; and if you make any disturbance, I will call my neigh-
bours, and instead of you beating me, you shall be beaten
yourselves."
"Mordi!" cried Coconnas, in a rage; "he is laughing at
us."
"Gregoire, my arquebuss," said the host, with the same
voice with which he would have said, " Give these gentlemen
a chair."
" Trippe del papa /" cried Coconnas, drawing his sword;
" rouse yourself, M. de la Mole."
"No, no ; for whilst we rouse ourselves, our supper will get
cold."
" What, you think " cried Coconnas.
" That M. de la Belle Etoile is right; only he does not know
how to treat his guests, especially when they are gentlemen;
for instead of saying, £ Gentlemen, I do not want you,' he should
have said, ' Enter, gentlemen '—at the same time reserving to
himself the right to charge in his bill—Master's room, so much;
THE EVENING OF AUGUST 24, 1572.
35
servants, so much."—With these words, La Mole pushed the
host, who was looking for his arquebuss, on one side, and
entered with Coconnas.
".Well," said Coconnas, "I am sorry to sheathe my sword
before I have ascertained that it is as sharp as that rascal's
larding-needle."
" Patience, my dear friend," said La Mole. " All the inns
in Paris are full of gentlemen come to attend the King of
Navarre's marriage, and we shah have great difficulty in finding
another apartment; besides, perhaps it is the custom to receive
strangers at Paris in this manner."
"Mordi! how quiet you are, M. de la Mole!" muttered
Coconnas, curling his red moustache with rage. " But let the
scoundrel take care ; for if his meat be not excellent, if his bed
be hard, his wine less than three years in bottle, and his waiter
be not as pliant as a reed "
"Ah, ah !" said the landlord, whetting his knife on a strap,
" you may make yourself easy ; you are in a land of plenty."
Then, in a low tone, he added—" These are some Huguenots ;
they have grown so insolent since the marriage of their Bearnais
with Mademoiselle Marguerite !" Then, with a smile that would
have made his guests shudder had they seen it :
" How strange it would be if I were just to have two Hugue-
nots come to my house, when "
"Now, then," interrupted Coconnas, "are we going to have
any supper?"
"Yes, as soon as you please, monsieur," returned the host,
softened, no doubt, by the last reflection.
"Well, then, the sooner the better," said Coconnas; and
turning to La Mole:
" Pray, M. le comte, whilst our room is being prepared, tell
me, do you think Paris seems a gay city ?"
" Ma foil no," said La Mole. "All the Parisians I saw had
most forbidding faces; perhaps they are afraid of the storm ;
for the sky looks very black, and the air feels heavy."
" Are you not looking for the Louvre, count ?"
" Yes ! and you also, Monsieur de Coconnas."
u Well, let us look for it together."
"It is rather late to go out, is it not?" said La Mole.
"Early or late, I must go out : my orders are peremptory—
'Come instantly to Paris, and communicate with the Duke de
Guise without delay.'"
3—2
36
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
At the name of the Duke de Guise, the landlord drew nearer.
" I think the rascal is listening to us," said Coconnas, who
could not forgive the host his rude reception of them.
" I am listening, gentlemen," replied he, taking off his cap ;
" but it is to serve you. I heard the great duke's name men-
tioned, and I came immediately. What can I do for you ?"
" Ah ! this name is magical, since it renders you so polite.
Tell me, master—what's your name ?"
" La Hurihre," replied the host, bowing.
" Well, Master la Huriere, do you think my arm is lighter
than the Due de Guise's, who makes you so civil?"
"No, M. le comte; but it is not so long: besides, I must
tell you, that the great Henry is the idol of the Parisians."
" What Henry ?" asked La Mole.
"There is only one."
" Which ?"
" Henry de Guise !"
"You are mistaken ; there is another, whom I desire you do
not speak ill of, and that is Henry of Navarre, besides Henry
de Condd, who has his share of merit."
" I do not know them," said the landlord.
" But I do ; and as I am directed to the King of Navarre, I
desire you not to speak slightingly of him before me."
The host only replied by touching his cap, and continued
speaking to Coconnas :
" Monsieur is going to see the great Duke de Guise. Mon-
sieur is very fortunate. He is come, no doubt, for "
" What ?" asked Coconnas.
" For the fete," replied the host, with a singular smile. >
" For all the fetes," replied Coconnas; " for Paris is, I hear,
a succession of fetes. Does not every one find plenty ofamuse-
ment?"
" Pretty well; but they will have more soon, I hope."
" The marriage of the King of Navarre has brought a great
many people to Paris, has it not?" said La Mole.
" A great many Huguenots—yes," replied La Huriere, but
suddenly changing his tone :
"Pardon me, gentlemen," said he; "'perhaps you are of that
religion ?"
" I," cried Coconnas, " I am as good a Catholic as the pope
himself."
La Huribre looked at La Mole, but La Mole did not, or
would not comprehend him,
THE EVENING OF AUGUST 24, 1572. 37
If you do not know the King of Navarre," said La Mole,
" perhaps you know the admiral. I have heard he has some
influence at court, and as I have letters for him, perhaps you
will so far sully your mouth as to tell me where he lives ?"
" He did live in the Rue de Bethisy," replied the host, with a
satisfaction he could not conceal.
" He did live ?" said La Mole. " He has left, then ?"
"Yes—this world, perhaps."
" What!" cried both the gentlemen together, " the admiral
dead ?"
" What, M. de Coconnas, are you a friend of the Duke de
Guise, and not know that ?"
" Know what ?"
" That the day before yesterday the admiral was passing be-
fore the house of the Canon Pierre Piles, when he was fired
at—"
" And killed ?" said La Mole.
"No; he had his arm broken and two fingers taken off;
but it is hoped the balls were poisoned."
" How, wretch !" cried La Mole ; " hoped ?"
" Believed, I mean," said the host, winking at Coconnas;
" it was a slip of the tongue."
" Really !" said Coconnas, joyfully.
" Really !" said La Mole, sorrowfully.
"It is just as I tell you, gentlemen," said the host.
" In that case," said La Mole, " I must go instantly to the
Louvre. Shall I find the King of Navarre there?"
" Most likely, since he lives there."
"And I," said Coconnas, "must also go to the Louvre.
Shall I find the Duke de Guise there ?"
" Most likely; for he has this instant passed with two hun-
dred gentlemen."
"Come, then, M. de Coconnas," said La Mole.
" I am ready," returned he.
" But your supper, gentlemen !" cried La Huriere.
" Ah," said La Mole, " I shall most likely sup with the King
of Navarre."
" And I," said Coconnas, "with the Duke de Guise."
" And I," said the host, after having watched the two gentle-
men take the road to the Louvre, " I will go and burnish my
steel cap, put a match to my arquebuss, and sharpen my par-
tisan, for no one knows what may happen."
MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
CHAPTER V.
bj the louvre in particular, and of virtue in general
The two young men, directed by the first person they met,
went down the Rue d'Averon, the Rue St.-Germain-l'Auxer-
rois, and soon found themselves before the Louvre, whose
towers were beginning to be lost in the darkness of the
night.
" What is the matter with you ?" asked Coconnas of La
Mole, who stopped before the old chateau, and gazed, not with-
out awe, on the drawbridges, the narrow windows, and the
pointed belfries, presented to him.
" I scarcely know," said LaMole ; "my heart beats strangely.
I am not timid, but this old palace seems so gloomy and
terrible."
" For my part," replied Coconnas,' " I feel in excellent spirits.
My dress is rather disordered," continued he, " but never
mind ; it will prove I have obeyed my instructions, and come
promptly on my arrival."
The two young men continued their way, each influenced by
the feelings he had expressed.
The Louvre was guarded with more than usual care, and all
the sentinels were doubled. Our cavaliers were somewhat
embarrassed, therefore, but Coconnas, who had remarked that
the Duke de Guise's name acted like a talisman on the Parisians,
approached the sentinel, and making use of the duke's name,
demanded to enter. The name seemed to produce its ordi-
nary effect upon the soldier, who, however, asked Coconnas if
he had the countersign.
Coconnas was forced to confess he had not.
" Stand back, then," said the soldier.
At this moment, a person who was talking with the officer
of the guard when Coconnas demanded leave to enter, ad-
vanced to him.
" What do you want with M. de Guise ?" asked he, with a
strong German accent.
" I wish to see him," said Coconnas.
" Impossible—the duke is with the king."
" But I have a letter for him."
"Ah, that is different. What is your name ?"
" The Count Annibal de Coconnas."
OP THE LOUVRE, AND OF VIRTUE.
39
"Will Monsieur Annibal give me the letter?"
" On my word," said La Mole to himself, "I hope I may find
another gentleman, equally polite, to conduct me to the king
of Navarre."
" Give me the letter," said the German gentleman, holding
out his hand towards Coconnas.
" Mordi /" replied the Piedmontese, " I scarcely know
whether I ought, as I have not the honour of knowing you."
" It is Monsieur de Besme," said the sentinel, " you may
safely give him your letter, I'll answer for it."
" M. de Besme !" cried Coconnas; " with the greatest plea- ,
sure. Here is the letter. Pardon my hesitation; but when
one is entrusted with an important commission, one ought to
be careful."
" There is no need of any excuse," said De Besme.
" Perhaps, sir," said La Mole, " you will be so kind as to
do the same for my letter that you have done for that of my
friend?"
" Who are you, monsieur ?"
'• The Count Lerac de la Mole."
" I don't know the name."
"No doubt; for I am only just arrived in Paris, for the-
first time."
" Where do you come from ?'
"From Provence."
" With a letter also?"
"Yes."
" For the Duke de Guise?"
"No : for the King of Navarre."
" I am not in the service of the King of Navarre," said De
Besme, coldly, "and therefore I cannot take your letter."
And turning on his heel, he entered the Louvre, bidding Co-
connas follow him.
La Mole was left alone.
At this moment a troop of cavaliers, about a hundred in
number, came out from the Louvre.
" Ah, ah !" said the sentinel to his comrade, " here come De
Mouy and his Huguenots ! See how joyous they all are. The
king has promised them, no doubt, to put to death the assassin
of the admiral; and as it was he who murdered De Mouy's
father, the son will kill two birds with one stone."
" Did you not say," interrupted La Mole, " that this officer
is M. de Mouy?"
40
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
" Yes, monsieur."
" Thank you," said La Mole. " That was all I wished to
knowand advancing to the chief of the cavaliers :
" Sir," said he, " I am told you are M. de Mouy."
"Yes, sir," returned the officer, courteously. " May I inquire
whom I have the honour of addressing ?"
" The Count Lerac de la Mole."
The young men bowed to each other.
" What can I do for you, monsieur?" asked De Mouy.
"Monsieur, I am just arrived from Aix, and I have a letter
from M. d'Aunac, governor of Provence, for the King of
Navarre. How can I give it to him ? How can I enter the
Louvre ?"
" Nothing is easier than to enter the Louvre," replied De
Mouy ; " but I fear the king will be unable to see you at this
hour. I will, however, if you please, conduct you to his
apartments, and then you must manage for yourself."
" A thousand thanks !"
" Come then," said De Mouy.
De Mouy dismounted, advanced towards the wicket, passed
the sentinel, conducted La Mole into the chateau, and, opening
the door leading to the king's apartments :
"Enter, and inquire for yourself, monsieur," said he.
And saluting La Mole, he retired.
La Mole, left alone, looked round. The ante-room was
vacant. He advanced a few paces and found himself in a
passage.
" I will walk straight on," thought he," and I must meet some
one."
Suddenly the door opposite that by which he had entered
opened, and two pages appeared, lighting a lady of noble bear-
ing and exquisite beauty.
The glare of the torches fell full on La Mole, who stood
motionless.
The lady stopped also.
" What do you want, sir ?" said she, in a voice of exquisite
sweetness.
"Oh, madame," said La Mole, "pardon me ; I have just left
M. de Mouy, who was so good as to conduct me here, and I
wish to see the King of Navarre."
" The king is not here, sir; he is with his brother-in-law.
But, in his absence, could you not say to the queen "
OF TliE LOUVRE, AND OF VIRTUE.
" Oh, yes, madame," returned La Mole, " if I could obtain
audience of her."
" You have it already, sir."
" What!" cried La Mole.
" I am the Queen of Navarre."
La Mole started with surprise.
" Speak, sir," said Marguerite, " but speak quickly, for the
queen-mother is waiting for me."
" If the queen-mother waits for you, madame,' said La Mole,
" suffer me to leave you, for I am incapable of collecting my
ideas, or of thinking of aught but admiration."
Marguerite advanced graciously towards the handsome young
man, who, without knowing it, acted like a finished courtier.
" Recover yourself, sir," said she ; " I will wait."
" Pardon me, madame," said La Mole, " that I did not salute
you with the respect due to you, but "
"You took me for one of my ladies?" said Marguerite,
smiling.
" No ; but for the shade of the beautiful Diana of Poictiers,
who is said to haunt the Louvre."
" Come, sir," said Marguerite, " I see you will make your
fortune at court; your letter was not needed, but still, give it
me : I will take care the King of Navarre has it."
In an instant La Mole threw open his doublet, and drew
from his breast a letter enveloped in silk. Marguerite took the
letter, and glanced at the writing.
"Are you not M. de la Mole ?" asked she.
"Yes, madame. Can I hope my name is not unknown to
you ?"
"I have heard my husband, and the Due d'Alengon, my
brother, speak of you. I know they expect you."
And she placed the letter in her corsage, glittering with gold
and diamonds.
"Now, sir," said she, "descend to the gallery below, and
wait until some one comes to you from the King of Navarre.
One of my pages will show you the way."
And Marguerite disappeared, like a dream.
" Are you coming, sir ?" cried the page who was to conduct
La Mole to the lower gallery.
" Oh, yes—yes !" cried La Mole, joyfully; for, as the page
led him the same way that Marguerite had gone by, he hoped
to see her again.
42
Marguerite de valois.
As he descended the staircase, he perceived her below; and
whether she heard his step, or by chance, she looked round, and
La Mole saw her features a second time.
The page preceding La Mole descended a story lower, opened
one door, then another, and stopping—" It is here you are to
wait," said he.
La Mole entered the gallery, the door of which closed after
him.
The gallery was vacant, with the exception of one gentleman,
who was sauntering up and down, and seemed also waiting for
some one.
It was so dark, that though not twenty paces apart, it was
impossible for either to recognise the other's face.
La Mole drew nearer.
"By Heaven!" muttered he—"here is M. de Coconnas
again !"
At the sound of footsteps, Coconnas turned, and recognised
La Mole.
"Mordi/" cried he. "The devil take me, but here is M.
de la Mole ! What am I doing ? Swearing in the king's palace.
Well, never mind; the king does not much care where he
swears.—Here we are at last, then, in the Louvre !"
" Yes : I suppose M. de Besme introduced you ?"
" Oh, he is the most polite German I ever met with. Who
brought you in ?"
" M. de Mouy. I told you the Huguenots had some interest
at court. Have you seen M. de Guise ?"
" No—not yet. Have you obtained an audience of the King
of Navarre ?"
"No—but I soon shall. I was conducted here, android to
wait."
"Ah, you will see we shall be invited to some grand supper,
and placed side by side. How singular ! We seem inseparable.
By the way, are you hungry ?"
" No."
" And yet you seemed anxious to taste the good cheer of
La Belle Etoile."
At this moment the door communicating with the king's
apartment opened, and M. de Besme entered.
He scrutinised both gentlemen, and then motioned Coconnas
to follow him.
Coconnas waved his hand to La Mole.*
Of the louvre, and of virtue.
43
De Besme traversed a gallery, opened a door, and stood at
the head of a staircase.
He looked cautiously round, and,
"M. de Coconnas," said he, " where are you staying?
"At the BelleEtoile, Rue de l'Arbre Sec."
"Ah, that is close by. Return to your hotel, and to-
night "
"Well, to-night?"
" Come here, with a white cross in your hat. The pass
word is ' Guise.' Hush ! not a word."
" What time am I to come ?"
"When you hear the tocsin."
" Good—I shall be here," said Coconnas.
And, saluting De Besme, he betook himself to the hostelry
of La belle Eioile.
At this instant the door of the King of Navarre's apartment
opened, and a page appeared.
"You are the Count de la Mole ?" said he.
" That is my name."
"Where do you lodge?"
" At the Belle Etoile
" That is close to the Louvre. His majesty the King or
Navarre has desired me to inform you that he cannot at present
receive you : perhaps he may send for you to-night; but, at all
events, come to the Louvre to-morrow,"
"But the sentinel will refuse me admission."
"True : the countersign is 'Navarre;' that will secure your
entrance."
" Thanks."
The first thing La Mole saw on entering the inn was Cocon-
nas seated before a large omelette.
" Oh, oh !" cried Coconnas, laughing, " I see you have no
more dined with the King of Navarre than I have supped with
the Duke de Guise."
u Ala foil no."
" Are you hungry now ?"
" Yes, very."
" Well, then, sit down, and partake of my omelette."
" I see that fate makes us inseparable- Do you sleep here?'
"I don't know."
" More do I."
" Well, then, I know where I shall pass the night."
44
MARGUERITE DE VALOlS.
" Where ?"
"Wherever you do ; that is inevitable."
Thus saying, the two gentlemen fell to work on the omelette
of Maitre la Huribre."
CHAPTER VI.
THE DEBT PAID.
Now, if the reader is curious to know why M. de la Mole had
not been received by the King of Navarre, why M. de Coconnas
had not seen M. de Guise, and why both, instead of supping at
the Louvre, on pheasants, partridges, and kid, supped at the
hotel of the Belle Etoile on an omelette, he must kindly accom-
pany us to the old palace of kings, and follow the queen, Mar-
guerite of Navarre, of whom La Mole had lost sight at the
entrance of the grand gallery.
Whilst Marguerite was descending this staircase, the duke,
Henry de Guise, whom she had not seen since the night of her
marriage, was in the king's closet. To this staircase, which
Marguerite was descending, there was an outlet. To the closet
in which M. de Guise was, there was a door, and this door and
this outlet both led to a corridor, which corridor led to the apart-
ments of the queen-mother, Catherine de Medicis.
Catherine de Medicis was alone, seated near a table, with her
elbow leaning on a Prayer-book half open, and her head leaning
on a hand still remarkably beautiful—thanks to the cosmetics
with which she was supplied by the Florentine, Rene, who
united the double duty of perfumer and poisoner to the queen-
mother.
The widow of Henry II. was clothed in mourning, which she
had not thrown off since her husband's death. At this period
she was about fifty-two or fifty-three years of age, and preserved
a figure full of freshness and still of considerable beauty. Her
apartment, like her costume, was all mourning. By her side
was a small Italian greyhound, called Phoebe, a present from
her son-in-law, Henry of Navarre.
Suddenly, and at a moment when the queen-mother appeared
plunged in some thought which brought a smile to her lips,
coloured with carmine, a man opened the door, raised the
tapestry, and showed his pale visage, saying, "All goes badly."
THE DEBT PAID.
45
Catherine raised her head, and recognised the Duke de
Guise.
" How 1 all goes badly' ?" she replied. " What mean you,
Henry ?"
" I mean that the king is more than ever taken with the
accursed Huguenots ; and if we await his leave to execute the
great enterprise, we shall wait a very long time, and perhaps
for ever."
" What, then, has happened ?" inquired Catherine, still pre-
serving the tranquillity of countenance that was habitual to her,
and yet to which, when occasion served, she could give so dif-
ferent an expression.
"Why, just now, for the twentieth time, I opened the con-
versation with his majesty as to whether he would still permit
all those bravadoes which the gentlemen of the Reformed reli-
gion indulge in, since the wound of their admiral."
" And what did my son reply ?" asked Catherine.
" He replied, ' Monsieur le Due, you must necessarily be
suspected by the people as the author of the attempted assassi-
nation of my second father, the admiral; defend yourself from
the imputation as best you may. As to me, I will defend my-
self properly, if I am insulted and then he turned away, to
feed his dogs."
" And you made no attempt to retain him !"
" Yes ; but he replied to me, in that tone which you so well
know, and looking at me with the gaze peculiar to him, ' M. le
Due, my dogs are hungry; and they are not men, whom I can
keep waiting.' Whereupon I came straight to you."
" And you have done right," said the queen-mother.
" But what is now to be done ?"
" Try a last effort."
" And who will try it ?"
" I ! Is the king alone ?"
"No ; M. de Tavannes is with him."
" Await me here; or, rather, follow me at a distance."
Catherine rose and went to the chamber, where, on Turkey
carpets.and velvet cushions, were the favourite greyhounds of
the king. On perches ranged along the wall were two or three
favourite falcons and a small pied hawk, with which Charles IX.
amused himself in bringing down the small birds in the garden
of the old Louvre, and that of the Tuileries, which they had
just commenced building.
46
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
On her way the queen-mother arranged her countenance into
a pale and agonising look, down which rolled a last—or rather
a first tear.
She approached Charles IX. noiselessly, as he was giving his
dogs fragments of cakes cut into equal portions.
" My son," said the queen, with such a tremulous voice, so
adroitly managed, that the king started.
" What would you, madame !" said Charles, turning round
suddenly.
" I would, my son," replied Catherine, " request your leave
to retire to one of your chateaux, no matter which, so that it be
as distant as possible from Paris."
"And wherefore, madame?" inquired Charles IX., fixing on
his mother that glassy eye, which, on certain occasions, became
so penetrating.
" Because every day I receive new insults from persons of
the new faith ; because to-day I hear that you have been freshly
menaced by the Protestants, even in your own Louvre, and I
do not desire to be present at such spectacles."
"But, then, madam-1," replied Charles IX., with an expres-
sion full of conviction, "they have attempted to kill their
admiral. An infamous murderer has already assassinated the
brave M. de Mouy. Mort de ma vie ! mother, there must be
justice in a kingdom !"
"Oh, be easy on that head, my son," said Catherine; "jus-
tice will not be wanting to them ; for .if you should refuse it,
they will still have it in their own way : on M. de Guise to-day,
on me to-morrow, and yourself hereafter."
" Oh, madame 1" said Charles, allowing a first accent of doubt
to break through, " do you think so ?"
"Oh, my son," replied Catherine, giving way entirely to the
violence of her thoughts, "do you not see that it is no longer a
question of the death of Francois de Guise or the admiral, of
Protestant religion or Catholic, but simply of the substitution
of the son of Antoine de Bourbon for the son of Henry the
Second ?"
" Come, come, mother, you are falling again into your usual
exaggeration," said the king.
" What is, then, your opinion, my son ?"
"To wait, mother—to wait. All human wisdom is in this
single word. The greatest, the strongest, the most skilful, is he
who knows how to wait."
THE DEBT PAID.
47
" Do you wait, then : I will not."
And on this Catherine made a curtsey, and, advancing to-
wards the door, was about to return to her apartment.
Charles IX. stopped her.
"Well, then, really, what is best to be done, mother?" he
asked, "for I am just, before everything, and I would have
every one satisfied with me."
Catherine turned towards him.
" Come, count," she said to Tavannes, who was caressing the
pied hawk, " and tell the king your opinion as to what should
be done."
" Will your majesty permit me ?" inquired the count.
" Speak, Tavannes !—speak."
" What does your majesty do when, in the chase, the wounded
boar turns on you ?"
" Mordieu, sir, I await him, with firm foot and. hand," replied
Charles, "and stab him in the throat with my good sword."
" Simply, that he may not hurt you," remarked Catherine.
"And to amuse myself," said the king, with a smile which
indicated courage pushed even to ferocity; " but I will not
amuse myself with killing my subjects ; for, after all, the Hugue-
nots are my subjects, as well as the Catholics."
" Then, sire," said Catherine, "your subjects, the Huguenots,
will do like the wild boar who escapes the sword thrust at his
throat : they will bring down the throne."
" Bah ! Do you really think so, rnadame ?" said Charles IX.,
with an air which denoted that he did not place great faith in
his mother's predictions.
" But have you not seen M. de Mouy and his party to-day ?"
"Yes ; I have seen them, and indeed just left them. But
what does he ask for that is not just ? He has requested the
death of the murderer of his father and the assassin of the
admiral. Did we not punish M. de Montgomery for the death
of my father and your husband, although that death was a simple
accident ?"
" 'Tis well, sir," said Catherine, piqued ; " let us say no more.
Your majesty is under the protection of that God who gives
strength, wisdom, and confidence. But I, a poor woman, whom
God abandons, no doubt, on account of my sins, fear, and give
way." And Catherine again curtseyed and left the room, making
a sign to the Duke de Guise, who had at that moment entered,
to remain in her place, and try a last effort.
48
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
Charles IX. followed his mother with his eye, but this time
did not recall her. He then began to caress his dogs, whistling
a hunting air.
He suddenly paused.
" My mother," said he, " is a right royal spirit, and doubts of
nothing. Really, now, it is a cool proposal, to kill off some
dozens of Huguenots, because they come to demand justice, as
if it were not their right!"
"Some dozens !" murmured the Duke de Guise.
" Ah! are you there, sir ?" said the king, appearing to see
him for the first time. " Yes, some dozens. A tolerable waste
of life ! Ah ! if any one came to me and said : ' Sire, you shall
be rid of all your enemies at once, and to-morrow there shall
not remain one to reproach you with the death of the others,'
why, then, I do not say "
" Well, sire!"
"Tavannes," said the king, "you will tire Margot; put her
back on her perch. It is no reason, because she bears the
name of my sister, the Queen of Navarre, that all the world
should caress her."
Tavannes put the hawk on her perch, and amused himself by
playing with a greyhound's ears.
"But, sire, if any one should say to your majesty: 'Sire,
your majesty shall be delivered from all your enemies to-
morrow' ? "
" And by the intercession of what saint would this great
miracle be effected ?"
" Sire, we are to day at the 24th of August, and it will there-
fore be by the interposition of Saint Bartholomew."
" A worthy saint," replied the king, " who allowed himself to
be skinned alive!"
"So much the better; the more he suffered, the more he
ought to have felt a desire for vengeance on his executioners."
"And is it you, my cousin," said the king, "is it you, with
your pretty little gold-hilted sword, who will to-morrow slay ten
thousand Huguenots ? Ah, ah ! mort de ma vie / you are very
amusing, M. de Guise !" And the king burst into loud laughter,
but a laughter so forced that the room echoed with its sinister
sound.
"Sire, one word—and one only," continued the duke, shud-
dering in spite of himself at the sound of this laugh, which had
nothing human in it—" one sign, and all is ready. I have the
THE DEBT PAID.
49
Swiss and eleven hundred gentlemen; I have the light horse
and the citizens on my side; your majesty has your guards;
your friends, the Catholic nobility. We are twenty to one."
"Well, then, cousin of mine, since you are so strong, why
the devil do you come to fill my ears with all this ! Act with-
out me—act "
And the king turned again to his dogs.
Then the tapestry suddenly moved aside, and Catherine re-
appeared.
"All goes well," she said to the duke; "urge him, and ne
will yield."
And the tapestry fell on Catherine, without the king seeing,
or at least appearing to see her.
" But yet," continued De Guise, " it is necessary I should
know, if, in acting as I desire, I shall act agreeably to your
majesty's views."
" Really, cousin Henry, you put your knife to my throat!
But I shall resist. Mordieu ! am I not the king ?"
"No, not yet, sire; but, if you will, you shall be so to-
morrow."
"Ah—what!" continued Charles, "you would kill the King
of Navarre, the Prince de Conde, in my Louvre—ah !" Then
he added, in a voice scarcely audible—" Without the walls, I
do not say "
" Sire," cried the duke, " they are going out this evening, to
join in a revel with your brother, the Duke d'Alengon."
"Tavannes," said the king, with well affected impatience,
" do not you see that you annoy Actaeon ? Here boy—here !"
And Charles IX. quitted the apartment, without waiting to
hear more, and leaving Tavannes and the Duke de Guise almost
as uncertain as before.
Another scene was passing in Catherine's apartments, who,
after she had given the Duke de Guise her counsel to remain
firm, had returned to her rooms, where she found assembled the
persons who usually assisted at her going to bed.
Her face was now as full of joy as it had been downcast when
she set out. One by one she dismissed her women, and there
only remained. Madame Marguerite, who, seated on a coffer
near the open window, was looking at the sky, absorbed in
thought.
Two or three times, when she thus found herself alone with
her daughter, the queen-mother opened her mouth to speak,
4
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
but each, time a gloomy thought withheld the words ready to
escape her lips.
Suddenly the tapestry moved, and Henry of Navarre
appeared.
The little greyhound, which was asleep on a sofa, leaped
towards him at a bound.
"You here, my son !" said Catherine, starting. "Do you
sup in the Louvre to-night ?"
"No, madame," replied Henry, "we are going intothe city
to-night, with Messieurs d'Alengon and De Conde. I almost
expected to find them here."
Catherine smiled.
" Ah ! you men are so happy to have such liberty! Are
they not, dear daughter ?"
" Yes," replied Marguerite, "liberty is so glorious, so sweet
a thing."
" Would you imply that I restricted you, madame ?" inquired
Henry, bowing to his wife.
" No, sir; it is not for myself that I complain, but for women
in general."
" Who goes there ?" asked Catherine, suddenly, and at the
same moment the tapestry was raised, and Madame de Sauve
showed her lovely head.
" Madame," she said, " it is Rene', the perfumer, whom your
majesty sent for."
Catherine cast a glance as quick as lightning at Henry of
Navarre. The young prince turned slightly red, and then
fearfully pale. The name of his mother's assassin had been
mentioned in his presence; he felt that his face betrayed his
emotion, and he leaned against the bar of the window.
The little greyhound growled.
At the same moment, two persons entered; the one an-
nounced, and the other having no need to be so.
The first was Rene, the perfumer, who approached Catherine
with all the servile obsequiousness of Florentine servants.
He held in his hand a box, which he opened, and all the com-
partments were seen filled with powders and flasks.
The second was Madame de Lorraine, the eldest sister of
Marguerite. She entered by a small private door, which led
from the king's closet, and, all pale and trembling, and hoping
not to be observed by Catherine, who was examining, with
Madame de Sauve, the contents of the box brought by Rend,
THE DEBT PAID.
Seated herself beside Marguerite, near whom the King of
Navarre was standing, with his hand on his brow, like one who
tries to rouse himself from some sudden shock.
At this instant Catherine turned round.
" Daughter," she said to Marguerite, " you may retire to
your chamber. My son, you may go and recreate yourself in
the city."
Marguerite rose, and Henry turned half round.
Madame de Lorraine seized Marguerite's hand.
" Sister," she whispered, with great quickness, "in the name
of the Duke de Guise, who now saves you, as you saved him,
do not go hence—do not go to your apartments."
" Eh ! what say you Claude ?" inquired Catherine, turning
round.
" Nothing, mother."
" What did you whisper to Marguerite V
"Only a message from the Duchess de Nevers."
" And where is the lovely duchess ?"
" With her brother-in-law, M. de Guise."
Catherine looked suspiciously at her two daughters, and
frowned.
" Come here, Claude," said the queen-mother.
Claude obeyed, and the queen seized her hand.
" What have you said to her, indiscreet girl that you are ?"
she murmured, squeezing her daughter's wrist until she nearly
shrieked with pain.
" Madame," said Henry to his wife, he having lost nothing
of the movements of the queen, Claude, or Marguerite—
" Madame, will you allow me the honour of kissing your
hand ?"
Marguerite extended her trembling hand.
" What did she say to you?" murmured Henry, as he stooped
to imprint a kiss on her hand.
" Not to go out. In the name of Heaven, therefore, do not
you go out either 1"
This was but a slight gleam ; but by its light, rapid as it was,
Henry at once saw through the whole plot.
"This is not all," added Marguerite ; "here is a letter,
which a country gentleman brought."
" M. de la Mole ?"
" Yes."
" Thanks," he said, taking the letter, and putting it undef
4—2
52
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
his doublet; and passing in front of his bewildered wife, he
placed his hand on the shoulder of the Florentine.
" Well, Master Rene !" he said, " and how goes on busi-
ness ?"
" Pretty well, monseigneur—pretty well," replied the poi-
soner, with his perfidious smile.
" I should think so,-" said Henry, " with men who, like you,
supply all the crowned heads at home and abroad."
" Except the King of Navarre," replied the Florentine,
impudently.
" Ve7itre-saint-gris, Master Rene," replied the king, "youare
right; and yet my poor mother, who also bought of you, re-
commended you to me with her dying breath. Come to me
to-morrow, or the day after to-morrow, and bring your best
perfumes."
At this moment, the Duchess of Lorraine, who could no
longer contain herself, burst into loud sobs.
Henry did not even turn towards her.
" Sister, dear, what is the matter ?" cried Marguerite, going
towards her.
" Nothing," said Catherine, passing between the two young
women—" nothing ; she has those nervous attacks, for which
Mazille prescribed aromatic preparations and again, and with
more force than before, she pressed her eldest daughter's arm;
then, turning towards the youngest:
"Why, Margot," she said, "did you hear me request you
to retire to your room ? if that is not sufficient, I command
you."
" Excuse me, madame," replied Marguerite, trembling and
pale ; " I wish your majesty good-night."
"I hope your wishes may be heard. Good-night-—good-
night!"
Marguerite withdrew, staggering with affright, and in vain
seeking a glance from her husband, who did not even turn
towards her.
There was a moment's silence, during which Catherine
remained with her eyes fastened on the Duchess of Lorraine,
who, on her side, without speaking, looked at her mother with
clasped hands.
Henry's back was still turned, but he was watching the scene
in a glass, whilst seeming to curl his moustache with a pomade
which Rene had given to him.
THE DEBT PAID.
S3
" And you, Henry, do you mean to go ?" asked Catherine.
"Yes, that's true," exclaimed the king. "Mafoi! I forgot
that the Duke d'AlenQon and the Prince de Conde were
awaiting me ! These are admirable perfumes; they quite
overpower one, and destroy one's memory. Good evening,
madame."
" Good evening ! To-morrow you will perhaps bring me
tidings of the admiral."
"Without fail.—Well, Phoebe, what is it?".
"Phoebe !" said the queen-mother, impatiently.
" Call her, madame," said the Bearnais, " for she will not
allow me to go out."
The queen-mother rose, took the little greyhound by the
collar, and held her whilst Henry left the apartment, with his
features as calm and smiling as if he did not feel in his heart
that his life was in imminent peril.
Behind him the little dog, set free by Catherine de Medicis,
rushed to try and overtake him, but the door was closed, and
Phoebe could only put her long nose under the tapestry and
give a long and mournful howl.
"Now, Charlotte," said Catherine to Madame de Sauve,
"go and find M. de Guise and Tavannes, who are in my ora-
tory, and return with them, and remain with the Duchess of
Lorraine, who has the vapours."
CHAPTER VII.
the night of the 24th of august, 1572.
When La Mole and Coconnas had finished their meagre supper,
Coconnas stretched his legs, leaned one elbow on the table,
and drinking a last glass of wine, said :
" Do you mean to go to bed instantly, Monsieur de la
Mole?"
" Ma foi ! I am very much inclined, for it is possible that I
may be called up in the night."
" And I, too," said Coconnas ; " but it appears to me that,
under the circumstances, instead of going to bed and making
those wait who are to come to us, we should do better to call
for cards and play a game. They will then find us quite
ready."
54
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" I would willingly accept your proposal, sir, but I have very
little money for play. I have scarce a hundred gold crowns in
my valise, for my whole treasure."
" A hundred gold crowns i" cried Coconnas, " and you com-?
plain ? Mordi / I have but six !"
" Why," replied La Mole, " I saw you draw from your pocket
a purse which appeared not only full, but X should say, brimful."
" Ah," said Coconnas, " that is to defray an old debt which
I am compelled to pay to an old friend of my father, whom I
suspect to be like yourself, somewhat of a Huguenot. Yes,
there are here a hundred rose nobles," he added, slapping his
pocket, " but these hundred rose nobles belong to a Master
Mercandon. As to my personal patrimony, that, as I tell you,
is limited to six crowns."
" How, then, can you play ?"
" Why, it is because of that I wish to play. Besides, an idea
occurs to me."
" What is it ?"
" We both came to Paris on the same errand."
" Yes."
" We have each sought a powerful protector."
" Yes."
"You rely on yours, as I rely on mine."
" Yes."
" Well, then, it occurred to me that we should play at first
for our money, and afterwards for the first favour which came
to us, either from the court or from our mistress."
" Really, a very ingenious idea," said La Mole, with a smile,
" but I confess I am not such a gamester as to risk my whole life
on a card or a turn of the dice ; for the first favour which may
come either to you or to me will, in all probability, involve our
whole life. But, if you will, let us play until your six crowns
be lost or doubled, and if lost, and you desire to continue the
game, you are a gentleman, and your word is as good as gold."
Done," replied Coconnas ; " a gentleman's word is gold,
especially when he has credit at court. Thus, believe me, I did
not risk too much when I proposed to play for the first favour
.we might receive at court."
" Doubtless, and you might lose it, but I could not gain it;
for, being with the King of Navarre, I could not receive any-
thing from the Duke de Guise."
Ah, the heretic i" murmured the host, whilst rubbing up
THE NIGHT OF A UGUST 24, 1572.
55
his old casque—" what! I smelt you out, did I i" and he
crossed himself devoutly.
" Well, then," continued Coconnas, shuffling the cards vvnich
the waiter brought him, " you are of the "
« What ?"
"New religion."
" I ?"
"Yes, you."
"Well, say that I am," said La Mole, with a smile, "have
you anything against us ?"
" No, thank God!—I hate Huguenotry with all my heart, but
I do not hate the Huguenots, for they are in fashion just now."
"Yes," replied La Mole, smiling; "to wit, the shooting at
the admiral; but let us play."
" Yes, let us play, and fear not, for should I lose a hundred
crowns of gold against yours, I shall have wherewithal to pay
you to-morrow morning."
" Then your fortune will come whilst you sleep."
" No; I shall go and find it."
" Where ? I'll go with you."
" At the Louvre."
" Are you going back there to-night ?"
" Yes; I have, to-night, a private audience with the great
Duke de Guise."
Since Coconnas had mentioned the Louvre, La Huriere had
left off cleaning his headpiece, and placed himself behind La
Mole's chair, so that Coconnas alone could see him, and made
signs to him, which the Piedmontese, absorbed in his game and
the conversation, did not remark.
"Well, it is very strange," remarked La Mole; "and you
were right to say that we were born under the same star. I
have also an appointment at the Louvre to-night, but not with
the Duke de Guise ; mine is with the King of Navarre."
" Have you a countersign ?"
" Yes."
" A rallying sign ?"
" No."
"Well, I have one, and my countersign is "
At these words of the Piedmontese, La Huriere made so
significant a gesture, that Coconnas, who had just raised his
head, was greatly astonished, even more than by the game, at
Which he had lost three crowns.
56
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS'.
"What's the matter?" asked La Mole, but seeing nothing,
he shuffled the cards again ; whilst La Huriere retired, placing
his finger on his lips to recommend discretion, and leaving
Coconnas so amazed, that he again lost almost as rapidly the
second time as the first.
" Well," observed La Mole, " this makes exactly your six
crowns. Will you have your revenge on your future fortune ?"
" Willingly," replied Coconnas.
" But before you begin, did you not say you had an appoint-
ment with the Duke de Guise?"
Coconnas turned his looks towards the kitchen, and saw the
great eyes of La Huriere.
"Yes," he replied, "but it is not yet the hour. But now let
us talk a little about yourself, M. de la Mole."
" We shall do better, I think, by talking of the game, my
dear M. de Coconnas; for unless I am very much mistaken,
you are in a fair way of losing six more crowns."
" Mordi! and that is true ! I always heard that the
Huguenots had good luck at cards. Devil take me, if I
haven't a good mind to turn Huguenot!"
" Do, count, do," said La Mole; " and you shall be well
received amongst us."
Coconnas scratched his ear.
" If I were sure that your good luck came from that," he
said, " I would ; for I really do not hold so entirely with mass,
and as the king does not think so much of it either "
" Then it is such a simple religion," said La Mole; " so
pure "
"And, moreover, it is in fashion," said Coconnas; "and it
brings good luck at cards; for, devil take me, if you do not
hold all the aces, and yet I have watched you closely, and you
play very fairly ; it must be the religion "
" You owe me six crowns more," said La Mole, quietly.
" Ah, how you tempt me !" said Coconnas.
" Hush !" said La Mole, "you will get into a quarrel with
our host."
" Ah, that is true," said Coconnas, turning his eyes towards
the kitchen; " but—no, he is not listening; he is too much
occupied at this moment."
"What is he doing?" inquired La Mole, who could see
nothing from his place.
"He is talking with—devil take me 1 it is he !"
THE NJGHT OF AUGUST 24, 1572.
57
"Who?"
" Why, that night-bird with whom he was discoursing when
we arrived. The man in the yellow doublet and sad-coloured
cloak. Mordi! how earnestly he talks." •
At this moment, La Huriere came hastily to Coconnas, and
whispered in his ear: " Silence, for your life ! and get rid oi
your companion."
Coconnas, turning to La Mole, said : " My dear sir, I must
beg you to excuse me. I have lost fifty crowns in no time. 1
am in bad luck to-night."
" Well, sir, as you please," replied La Mole; " besides, I
shall not be sorry to lie down for a time. Master la Hurihre !"
" Sir."
" If any one comes for me from the King of Navarre, wake
me immediately; I shall be dressed, and consequently ready."
" So shall I," said Coconnas ; " and that I may not keep his
highness waiting, I will prepare the sign. Master la Huriere,
some white paper and scissors !"
" Good-night, M. de Coconnas," said La Mole; " and you,
landlord, be so good as to light me to my room. Good luck,
my friend!" and La Mole disappeared up the staircase, followed
by La Huriere.
Then the mysterious personage, taking Coconnas by the arm,
said to him, with much quickness :
"Sir, you have very nearly betrayed a secret on which
depends the fate of a kingdom. One word more, and I should
have brought you down with my arquebuss. Now we are alone."
" But who are you ?"
" Did you ever hear talk of Maurevel ?"
" The assassin of the admiral ?
"And of Captain de Mouy."
" Yes."
"Well, I am De Maurevel."
"Ah, ah !" said Coconnas.
"Hush !" said Maurevel, putting his finger on nis mouth.
Coconnas listened.
At this moment he heard the landlord close the door of a
chamber, then the door of a corridor, and bolt it; and then
return precipitately to Coconnas and Maurevel, offering each a
seat, and taking a third for himself.
" All is close now," he said, " and you may speak out, M.
Maurevel"
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
Eleven o'clock struck by Saint Germain l'Auxerrois; Mau-
revel counted eaeh stroke of the clock, which sounded full
and dull in the night, and, when the last sound had died
away:
" Sir," he said, turning to Coconnas, who was amazed at all
the precautions taken, " are you a good Catholic ?"
" I believe so," replied Coconnas.
" Sir, are you devoted to the king ?"
" Body and soul ! you offend me, sir, by asking such a
question."
" Will you follow us ?"
"Whither?"
" That is of no consequence—let me guide you ; your for-
tune, and perhaps your life, are concerned in the result."
" I tell you, sir, that at midnight I have an appointment at
the Louvre."
" That is where we are going."
" M. de Guise awaits me there."
" And us also !"
"But I have a written pass-word."
" And so have we !"
" I have a sign of recognition."
Maurevel drew from beneath his doublet a handful of crosses
in white stuff, gave one to La Huriere, one to Coconnas, and
took another for himself. La Huriere fastened his to his
helmet. Maurevel attached his to the side of his hat. '
" Ah, then," said Coconnas, amazed, " the appointment, the
countersign, and the rallying mark were for everybody?"
"Yes, sir—that is to say, for all good Catholics."
" Then there is a fete at the Louvre—some royal banquet,
is there not ?" said Coconnas ; " and they wish to exclude those
hounds of Huguenots,—good,—capital—excellent ! They have
had the best of it too long."
"Yes, there is a fete at the Louvre—a royal banquet; and
the Huguenots are invited—and more, they will be the heroes
of the fete, and will pay for the festival, and if you will be one
of us, we will begin by going to invite their principal champion
—their Gideon, as they call him."
" The admiral!" cried Coconnas.
" Yes, old Gaspard, whom I missed, like a fool, although I
aimed at him with the king's arquebuss."
" And this, my gentleman, is why I was furbishing my helmet?
THE NIGHT OF AUGUST 24, i$72.
59
sharpening my sword, and putting an edge on my knives," said
La Huriere, with a loud and bear-like voice.
At these words, Coconnas shuddered and turned very pale,
for he began to comprehend.
"Then really," he exclaimed, " this fete—■ this banquet is
a "
" You are a long time guessing, sir," said Maurevel, " and
it is easy to see that you are not so weary of these insolent
heretics as we are."
" And you take on yourself," he said, " to go to the admiral
and to "
Maurevel smiled, and drawing Coconnas to the window, he
said :
" Look there !—do you see, in the small square at the end
of the street, behind the church, a troop drawn up quietly in
the shadow?"
" Yes."
" The men who form that troop have, like Master la Huribre,
and myself, and yourself, a cross in their hats."
" Well !"
"Well, these men are a company of Swiss, from the smaller
cantons, commanded by Toquenot—you know they are friends
of the king."
" Ah, ah !" said Coconnas.
" Now, look at that troop of horse passing along the Quay—
do you recognise their leader?"
" How can I recognise him," asked Coconnas, with a shud-
der, " when it was only this evening that I arrived in Paris ?"
"Well, then, it is he with whom you have a rendezvous
at the Louvre at midnight. See, he is going to wait for you !"
" The Duke de Guise ?"
"Himself! His escorts are, Marcel, the ex-provost of the
tradesmen, and Jean Chorou, the present provost. These two
are going to summon their companies, and here comes the
captain of the quarter. See what he will do !"
" He knocks at each door; but what is there on the doors
at which he knocks ?"
" A white cross, young man, such as that which we have in
our hats."
"But at each house at which he knocks they open, and from
each house there come out armed citizens."
" He will knock here in turn, and we shall in turn go out."
6o
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" But," said Coconnas, " if all the world is on foot to go
and kill one old Huguenot—Mordi ! it is shameful ! It is an
affair of cut-throats, and not of soldiers."
"Youngman," replied Maurevel, "if the old are objection-
able to you, you may choose young ones—you will find plenty
for all tastes. If you despise daggers, use your sword, for the
Huguenots are not the men to allow their throats to be cut
without defending themselves, and you know that Huguenots,
young or old, are hard-lived."
"But are they going to kill them all, then?" cried Co-
connas.
" All !"
" By order of the king ?"
" By order of the king and M. de Guise."
" And when ?"
"When you hear the clock of Saint Germain I'Auxerrois
strike."
" Oh, it was for that, then, that the amiable German told me
to hasten at the first sound of the tocsin."
"You have, then, seen M. de Besme ?"
" I have seen and spoken to him."
" Where ?"
"At the Louvre."
" Look there!"
" Mordi!—'tis he himself."
" Would you speak with him ?"
"Why, really, I should like to do so."
Maurevel opened the window instantly; Besme was passing
at the moment with twenty soldiers.
" Guise and Lorraine !" said Maurevel.
Besme turned round, and perceiving that it was himself who
was accosted, he came under the window.
" Oh, is it you, Sire de Maurevel ?"
"Yes, 'tis I, what seek you ?"
" I am seeking the hostelry of the Belle Etoile, to find a
Monsieur Coconnas."
" I am here, M. de Besme," said the young man.
" Good, good; are you ready ?"
" Yes—to do what?"
" Whatever M. de Maurevel mav tell you, for he is a good
Catholic."
" Do you hear ?" inquired Maurevel.
THE NIGHT OF AUGUST 24, 1572. 61
" Yes," replied Coconnas, " but M. de Besme !—where are
you going ?"
" I am going to say a word to the admiral."
" Say two, if necessary," said Maurevel, " and this time, if
he gets up again at the first, do not let him rise at the second."
" Make yourself easy, M. de Maurevel, and put the young
gentleman in the right path."
" Ah, have no fear for me : the Coconnas have keen scent,
and good bred dogs hunt from instinct."
" Adieu ! begin the chase, for we are in the slot of the
deer."
De Besme went on, and Maurevel closed the window.
"You hear, young man," said Maurevel, "if you have any
private enemy, although he is not altogether a Huguenot, you
can put him on your list, and he will pass with the others."
Coconnas, more bewildered than ever with what he saw and
heard, looked about him, at the host and Maurevel, who quietly
drew a paper from his pocket. " Here's my list," said he;
" three hundred. Let each good Catholic do this night one-
tenth part of the business I shall do, and to-morrow there will
not remain one single heretic in the kingdom."
" Hush !" said La Huriere.
"What is it?" inquired Coconnas and Maurevel together.
. They heard the first stroke of the bell of Saint Germain
l'Auxerrois vibrate.
" The signal!" exclaimed Maurevel. " The time is put on—
for it was agreed for midnight. So much the better. When it
is the interest of God and the king, it is better that the clock
should be put forward than backward." And the sinister sound
of the church bell was distinctly heard. Then a shot was fired,
and in an instant, the light of several flambeaux blazed up like
flashes of lightning in the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec.
Coconnas passed his hand over his brow, which was damp
with perspiration.
" It has begun !" cried Maurevel. " Now to work—away !''
" One moment, one moment!" said the host. " Before we
begin, let us make safe the house. I do not wish to have my
wife and children killed in my absence. There is a Huguenot
here."
" M. de la Mole !" said Coconnas, starting.
" Yes, the fowl has thrown himself into the wolfs throat." ^
" What!" said Coconnas.; " would you attack your guest?"
62
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" It was for him I gave an extra edge to my rapier."
" Oh. oh !" said the Piedmontese, frowning.
" I never yet killed anything but rabbits, ducks, and chick en s,'*
replied the worthy host, " and I do not know very well how to
kill a man; but I can make my first trial on him, and if I am
clumsy, no one will be there to laugh at me."
" Mordi! it is hard," said Coconnas. " M. de la Mole is
my companion; M. de la Mole has supped with me; M. de la
Mole has played with me."
" Yes; but M. de la Mole is a heretic," said Maurevel.
" M. de la Mole is doomed; and if we do not kill him, others
will."
" Not to say," added the host, " that he has gained fifty
crowns from you."
"True," said Coconnas ; " but, fairly, I am sure."
" Fairly, or not, you must pay them, whilst, if I kill him, you
are quits."
" Come, come !" cried Maurevel; "make haste, or we shall
not be in time with the aid we have promised M. de Guise, at
the admiral's."
Coconnas sighed.
" I'll make haste !" cried La Huriere, " wait for me.
"Mordi /" cried Coconnas, "he will put the poor gentleman
to great pain, and, perhaps, rob him. I must be present to
finish him, if requisite, and to prevent him from touching his
money."
And impelled by this happy thought, Coconnas followed La
Huriere upstairs, and soon overtook him, for the latter slackened
his pace when he approached the intended victim.
As he reached the door, Coconnas still following, several
discharges of musquetry in the streets were heard.
"DiableP' muttered La Huriere, somewhat disconcerted;
" that has awakened him, I think."
" I should say so," observed Coconnas, "and he will defend
himself; I do not know a likelier man. Suppose, now, Master
la Huriere, he were to kill you, that would be droll, eh ?"
" Hum, hum !" responded the host, but knowing himself to
be armed with a good arquebuss, he dashed the door in with a
kick of his foot.
La Mole, without his hat, but dressed, was entrenched behind
his bed, his sword between his teeth, and his pistols in lus
hands.
THE NIGHT OF AUGUST 24, 1572.
63
" Ah, ah !" said Coconnas, his nostrils expanding like a wild
beast who smelt blood—" this grows interesting, Master la
Huribre.—Forward !"
"Ah, you would assassinate me, it seems!" cried La Mole,
whose eyes glared; " and it is you, wretch !"
Master la Huriere's reply to this was to take aim at the
young man with his arquebuss ; but La Mole was on his guard,
and as he fired, went on his knees, and the ball passed over his
head.
" Help !" cried La Mole ; " help, M. de Coconnas !"
" Help, M. de Maurevel !—help !" cried La Huriere.
" Met foi! M. de la Mole," replied Goconnas, "all I can do
in this affair is not to join the attack against you. It seems, all
the Huguenots are to be put to death to-night, in the iking's
name. Get out of it as well as you can."
" Ah, traitors ! assassins !—is it so ? Well, then, take this !"
And La Mole, aiming in his turn, fired one of his pistols. La
Huriere, who had kept his eye on him, moved suddenly on one
side; but Coconnas, not anticipating such ,a reply, had not
stirred, and the ball grazed his shoulder.
" Mordi/" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth—" I have it.
Well, then, let it be us two, since you will have it so !"—and
drawing his rapier, he rushed on La Mole.
Had he been alone, La Mole would, doubtless, have awaited
his attack; but Coconnas had La Huriere to aid him, who was
reloading his gun, and Maurevel, who was coming rapidly up
the stairs. La Mole, therefore, dashed into a small closet, which
he bolted inside.
" Ah, coward !" cried Coconnas, furious, and striking at the
door with the pommel of his sword—" wait! wait ! and I will
make as many holes in your body as you have gained crowns of
me to-night. Wait for me, poltroon—wait for me !"
La Huribre fired his arquebuss at the lock, and the door flew
open.
Coconnas rushed into the closet, but it was empty, and the
window open.
" He has thrown himself out," said the host, " and as we are
on the fourth story, he must be killed."
" Or, he has escaped by the roof of the next house," said
Coconnas, putting his leg over the bar of the window, and
preparing to follow him over this narrow and slippery route ;
but Maurevel and La Huriere drew him back into the apartment.
64
MARGUERITE EE VALOlS.
" Are you mad ?" they both exclaimed at once; " you will
kill yourself!"
" Bah !" said Coconnas, " I am a mountaineer, and used to
traverse the glaciers; besides, when a man has once offended
me, I will go up to heaven or descend to hell with him, by
whatever route he pleases. Let me do as I wish."
" Well," said Maurevel, "he is either dead or a long way off
by this time. Come with us ; and if he escape you, there will
be a thousand others in his place."
" You are right," cried Coconnas. " Death to the Huguenots !
I want revenge, and the sooner the better."
And the three descended the staircase, like an avalanche.
"To the admiral's !" shouted Maurevel.
"To the admiral's !" shouted La Huriere.
" To the admiral's, then, if it must be so !" shouted Coconnas.
And all three, leaving the Belle Etoile in charge of Gregoire
and the other waiters, hastened towards the Rue de Betbisy, a
bright light, and the report of fire-arms, guiding them in that
direction.
"Who comes here ?" cried Coconnas. " A man without his
doublet or scarf!"
" It is some one escaping," said Maurevel.
" Fire ! fire !" said Coconnas ; " you who have arquebusses."
"Ma foil not I," replied Maurevel. "I keep my powder
for better game."
"You, then, La Huriere !"
" Wait, wait!" said the innkeeper, taking aim.
"Oh, yes, wait, and he will escape," replied Coconnas.
And he rushed after the unhappy wretch, whom he soon
overtook, as he was wounded ; but at the moment when, in order
that he might not strike him behind, he exclaimed, " Turn,
turn !" the report of an arquebuss was heard, a ball whistled by
Coconnas' ears, and the fugitive rolled over, like a hare struck
by the shot of the sportsman.
A cry of triumph was heard behind Coconnas. The Pied-
montese turned round, and saw La Huriere brandishing his
weapon.
" Ah, now," he exclaimed, " I have made my maiden shot!"
"And only just missed making a hole in me, from one side
to the other."
" Be on your guard !—be on your guard !"
Coconnas sprung back. The wounded man had risen on his
THE NIGHT OF AUGUST 24, 1572.
65
knee, and, full of revenge, was about to stab him with his
poniard, when the host's warning put the Piedmontese on his
guard.
" Ah, viper!" shouted Coconnas ; and rushing at the wounded
man, he thrust his sword through him three times up to the
hilt.
"And now," cried he, leaving the Huguenot in the agonies
of death—" to the admiral's !—to the admiral's !"
"Ah, ah ! my gentlemen," said Maurevel, " it seems to work."
"Mafoi! yes," replied Coconnas. "I do not know if it is
the smell of gunpowder that makes me drunk, 01* the sight of
blood which excites me, but mordi! I am all anxious for
slaughter. It is like a battue of men. I have as yet only had
battues of bears and wolves, and, on my honour, a battue of
men seems more amusing." And the three went on their way.
CHAPTER VIII.
the victims.
The hotel of the admiral was, as we have said, situated in the
Rue de Bethisy. It was a large house, opening on a court in
front, flanked by two wings. One principal and two small
gates afforded entrance into this courtyard.
When our three cut-throats entered the Rue Bethisy, which
forms part of the Rue des Fosses-St.-Germain-1'Auxerrois, they
saw the hotel surrounded with Swiss soldiers and citizens, all
armed to the teeth, some holding drawn swords, others arque-
busses loaded and the matches burning, and some, in their left
hand, torches that threw a fitful and lurid glare on this sea of
human heads and naked weapons. The work of destruction
was proceeding in the Rues Tirechappe, Etienne, and Bertin-
Poiree. Agonised cries and the reports of muskets were heard
incessantly; and, occasionally, some wretched fugitive rushed
wildly through what, seen by the uncertain light, seemed a troop
of demons.
In an instant, Coconnas, Maurevel, and La Huriere, acere-
dited by their white crosses, and received with cries of welcome,
were in the midst of the tumult, though they could not have
entered the throng, had not Maurevel been recognised. Cocon-
5
66
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS.
has and La Huriere followed him, and all three contrived to
enter the court.
In the centre of this court, the three doors of which were
burst open, a man, around whom a body of Catholics formed a
respectful circle, stood leaning on his drawn rapier, and eagerly
looking up at a balcony about fifteen feet above him, which
extended in front of the principal window of the hotel.
This man stamped impatiently on the ground, and, from time
to time, questioned those around him.
" Nothing yet!" murmured he. " No one ! He has been
warned, and has escaped. What do you think, Du Gast ?"
" Impossible, monseigneur."
" Why ? Did you not tell me, that just before we arrived, a
man, bare-headed, a drawn sword in his hand, came running, as
if pursued, knocked at the door, and was admitted ?"
" Yes, monseigneur : but M. de Besme came up immediately,
broke open the doors, and surrounded the hotel. The man
went in, sure enough, but he has not gone out."
" Why," said Coconnas to La Huriere, " if my eyes do not
deceive me, it is M. de Guise I see."
" Himself, monsieur. Yes; the great Henry de Guise is
come in person to watch for the admiral, and serve him as he
served the duke's father. Every one has his day, and it is our
turn now."
" Hola, Besme !" cried the duke, with his powerful voice,
" have you not finished yet ?"
And he struck his sword so forcibly against the stones that
sparks flew out.
At this instant cries were heard in the hotel—then several
shots—then a clashing of swords, and then all was again silent.
The duke was about to rush into the house.
" Monseigneur, monseigneur !" said Du Gast, detaining him,
" your dignity commands you to wait here."
" You are right, Du Gast. I must stay here ; but I am dying
with anxiety. If he were to escape !"
Suddenly the windows of the first floor were lighted up with
what seemed the reflection of torches.
The window, on which the duke's eyes were fixed, opened,
or, rather, was shattered to pieces, and a man, his face and
collar stained with blood, appeared on the balcony.
"Ah ! at last, Besme cried the duke ; " what news?"
"H re ! here !" replied the German, with the greatest sang
front, lilting, as he spoke, a heavy body.
THE VICTIMS.
67
" But where are the others?" demanded the duke.
" The others are finishing the rest."
" And what have you done ?"
"You shall see. Stand back a little !"
The duke retreated a few paces.
The object that Besme was trying to lift was now visible; it
was the body of an old man. He raised it above the balcony,-
and threw it, by a powerful effort, at his master's feet.
The heavy fall, and the blood that gushed forth, startled even
the duke himself; but curiosity soon overpowered fear, and the
light of the torches was speedily thrown on the body.
A white beard, a venerable visage, and limbs contracted by
death, were then visible. " The admiral!" cried twenty voices,
as instantaneously hushed.
"Yes, the admiral!" said the duke, approaching the corpse,
and contemplating it with silent ecstasy.
" The admiral! the admiral!" repeated the witnesses of this
terrible scene, timidly approaching the old man, majestic even
in death.
" Ah, at last, Gaspard !" said the Duke de Guise, triumph-
antly. " Murderer of my father ! thus do I avenge him !"
And the duke dared to plant his foot on the breast of the
Protestant hero. But, instantly, the dying warrior opened his
eyes, his bleeding and mutilated hand clenched itself, and the
admiral, with a sepulchral voice, said to the duke :
" Henry de Guise, one day the foot of the assassin shall De
planted on thy breast! I did not kill thy father, and I curse
thee !"
The duke, pale, and trembling in spite of himself, felt a cold
shudder come over "him. He passed his hand across his brow,
as if to dispel the fearful vision ; and when he dared again to
glance at the admiral, his eyes were closed, his hand unclenched,
and a stream of black blood poured over his silvery beard from
that mouth which had so lately uttered the terrible denunciation
against his murderer.
The duke lifted his sword, with a gesture of desperate reso-
lution.
" Are you satisfied, monseigneur?" asked Besme.
" Yes," returned Henry ; " for thou hast avenged "
" The Duke Francois!" said De Besme.
" The Catholic religion," returned Henry. Then, turning to
5—2
68
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
the soldiers and citizens who filled the court and street, " To
work, my friends, to work !"
" Good evening, M. de Besme," said Coconnas, approaching
the German, who stood on the balcony, wiping his sword.
" It was you, then, who settled him!" cried La Huriere;
" how did you manage it ?"
" Oh, very easily : he heard a noise, opened his door, and I
ran him through the body. But 1 think they are killing
Teligny now, for I hear him yelling."
At this moment, several cries of distress were heard, and the
windows of the long gallery that formed a wing of the hotel
were lighted up with a red glare ; two men were seen flying
before a body of assassins. An arquebuss-shot killed one; the
other sprang boldly, and without stopping to look at the dis-
tance from the ground, through an open window into the court
below, heeding not the enemies who awaited him there.
" Kill! kill!" cried the assassins, seeing their prey about to
escape them.
The fugitive picked up his sword, which in his leap had fallen
from his hand, dashed through the soldiers, upset three or four,
ran one through the bod)', and amid the pistol-shots and impre-
cations of the furious Catholics, darted like lightning by Cocon-
nas, who stood ready for him at the door.
" Touched!" cried the Piedmontese, piercing his arm with
his sharp blade.
" Coward !" replied the fugitive, striking him on the face with
the flat of his weapon, for want of room to thrust at him with its
point.
" A thousand devils !" cried Coconnas ; "it's M. de la Mole!"
" M. de la Mole !" re-echoed La Huriere and Maurevel.
" It is he who warned the admiral!" cried several soldiers.
" Kill him—kill him !" was shouted on all sides.
Coconnas, La Huriere, and half a score of soldiers, rushed
in pursuit of La Mole, who, covered with blood, and having
attained that state of desperation which is the last resource of
human strength, dashed wildly through the streets, with no
other guide than instinct. Behind him, the footsteps and
shouts of his pursuers gave him wings. Occasionally a ball
whistled by his ear, and made him dart forward with redoubled
speed. He no longer seemed to breathe : it was a hoarse
rattle which came from his chest. His pourpoint seemed to
prevent his heart from beating, and he tore it off; soon his
THE VICTIMS.
69
sword became too heavy for his hand, and he threw it away.
The blood and perspiration matted his hair, and trickled in
heavy drops down his face. Sometimes it seemed to him that
he was gaining on his pursuers, and he could hear their steps
die away in the distance; but at their cries, fresh murderers
started up at every turn, and continued the chase ; suddenly he
perceived, on his left, the river, rolling silently on; he felt, like
the stag at bay, an invincible desire to plunge into it: the
supreme power of reason alone restrained him. On his right,
was the Louvre, dark and frowning, but full of strange and
ominous sounds; soldiers on the drawbridge came and went,
and helmets and cuirasses glittered in the moonlight. La Mole
thought of the King of Navarre, as he had before thought of
Coligny: they were his only protectors,—it was his last hope.
He collected all his strength, and inwardly vowing to abjure
his faith should he escape massacre, he rushed by the soldiers,
on to the drawbridge, received another poniard stab in the
side, and despite the cries of " Kill—kill !" that resounded
on all sides, and the opposing weapons of the sentinels, darted
like an arrow through the court, into the vestibule, mounted the
staircase, then up two stories higher, recognised a door, and
leaned against it, striking it violently with his hands and feet.
" Who is there ?" asked a woman's voice.
" Oh, my God !" murmured La Mole—" they are coming, I
hear them; 'tis I—'tis I!"
" Who are you ?" said the voice.
La Mole recollected the pass-word.
" Navarre—Navarre !" cried he.
The door instantly opened. La Mole, without thanking, or
even seeing Gillonne, dashed into the vestibule, then along a
corridor, through two or three chambers, until, at last, he
entered a room lighted by a lamp suspended from the ceiling.
Beneath curtains of velvet with gold fleurs-de-lis, in a bed
of carved oak, a lady, wrapped in a dressing-gown, raised herself
on her arm, and gazed with terror.
La Mole precipitated himself towards her.
" Madame," cried he, "they are killing, they are butchering
my brothers—they seek to kill me also! You are queen—•
save me !"
And he threw himself at her feet, leaving on the carpet a
large track of blood.
At the sight of a man, pale, exhausted, and bleeding at her
70
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S,
feet, the Queen of Navarre, who, warned by Madame de Lor-
raine, had laid down without undressing herself, clasped her
hands over her eyes, and shrieked for help.
" Madame," cried La Mole, " for the love of Heaven, do not
call ! If you do, I am lost, for my murderers are at hand; they
are on the stairs—hark ! I hear them now!"
" Help !" cried the queen—" help !"
" Ah !" said La Mole, despairingly, " you have killed me.
I did not think it possible to die by so sweet a voice, so fair a
hand !"
At the same time, the door flew open, and a troop of men,
their faces covered with blood and blackened with powder,
their swords drawn, and their pikes and arquebusses levelled,
rushed into the apartment.
Coconnas was at their head—"his red hair bristling, his eye
flashing fire, and his cheek cut open by La Mole's sword. The
Piedmontese was terrible to behold.
" Mordi/" cried he, "we have him at last."
La Mole looked round him for a weapon, but in vain; he
glanced at the queen, and saw profound commiseration depicted
in her face; he at once felt that she alone could save him ; he
threw his arms round her.
Coconnas advanced, and with the point of his long rapier
again wounded his enemy's shoulder, and the crimson drops of
warm blood stained the white and perfumed sheets of Mar-
guerite's couch.
Marguerite saw the blood flow, and felt the shudder that ran
through La Mole's frame : she threw herself with him into the
recess between the bed and the wall. It was time : for La
Mole was incapable of flight or resistance, his head leaned on
Marguerite's shoulder, and his hand convulsively seized and
tore its thin cambric covering.
" Oh, madame," murmured he, " save me."
He could say no more. A mist came over his eyes, his head
sunk back, his arms fell at his side, and he sunk on the floor,
bathed in his blood, and dragging the queen with him.
At this moment, Coconnas, excited by the sight of blood and
exasperated by the long pursuit, advanced towards the recess;
in another instant, his sword would have pierced La Mole's
heart, and perhaps that of Marguerite also.
At the sight of the bare steel, and even more moved at the
insolence of the man, the daughter of kings drew herself up to
THE VICTIMS.
her fall height, and sent forth such a cry of fear, indignation,
and rage, that Coconnas stood petrified.
Suddenly, a door in the wall opened, and a young man of
sixteen or seventeen, dressed in black and his hair in disorder,
rushed in.
"Hold! hold!" cried he; "I am here, my sister—I am
here!"
"fFrangois ! Frangois !" cried Marguerite—" help ! help !'
" The Duke d'Alengon !" murmured La Huriere, grounding
his arquebuss.
"Mordi!" a son of France!" growled Coconnas, drawing
back.
The duke glanced round him. He saw Marguerite, dis-
hevelled, more lovely than ever, leaning against the wall sur-
rounded by men, fury in her eyes, large drops of perspiration on
her forehead.
"Wretches!" cried he.
" Save me, my brother !" shrieked Marguerite. " They are
going to kill me !"
The duke's pallid face became crimson. He was unarmed,
but sustained, no doubt, by the consciousness of his rank, he
advanced with clenched teeth and hands towards Coconnas
and his companions, who retreated, terrified at the lightning
darting from his eyes.
" Ha ! and will you murder a son of France, too ?" cried the
duke. Then, as they recoiled—" Without there ! captain of
the guard ! Hang me every one of these ruffians !"
More alarmed at the sight of this weaponless young man than
he would have been at the aspect of a regiment of lansquenets,
Coconnas had already reached the door. La Huriere sprang
after him like a deer, and the soldiers jostled and pushed each
other in the vestibule, in their endeavours to escape, finding
the door far too small for their great desire to be outside it.
Meantime Marguerite had instinctively thrown the damask
coverlid of her bed over La Mole, and withdrawn from him.
No sooner had the last murderer departed, than the duke
turned to his sister.
" Are you hurt ?" cried he, seeing Marguerite covered with
blood. And he darted towards his sister with an anxiety that
did credit to his fraternal tenderness.
"No," said she, " I think not; or if I am, it is but slightly."
"But this blood," said the duke ; " whence comes it?"
72
MARGUERITE DE VALORS.
" I know not," replied she, " one of those wretches seized
me, and perhaps he was wounded."
" What!" cried the duke, " dare to touch my sister ? Oh,
had you but shown him to me—did I but know where to find
him "
" Leave me," said Marguerite.
"Well, Marguerite," said he, "I will go; but you cannot
remain alone this dreadful night. Shall I call Gillonne?"
"No, no ! leave me, Francois—leave me !"
The prince obeyed; and hardly had he disappeared, than
Marguerite, hearing a groan from the recess, hastily bolted the
door of the secret passage, and then hastening to the other
entrance, closed it just as a troop of archers dashed by in hot
chase of some other Huguenot residents in the Louvre.
After glancing round, to assure herself she was really alone,
she lifted the covering that had concealed La Mole from the
Duke d'Alengon, and tremblingly drawing the apparently lifeless
body, by great exertion, into the middle of the room, and find-
ing the victim still breathed, sat down, placed his head on her
knees, and sprinkled his face with water.
Then it was that the mask of blood, dust, and gunpowder
which had covered his face being removed, Marguerite re-
cognised the handsome cavalier who, full of life and hope, had
but three or four hours before solicited her protection and that
of the King of Navarre ; and whilst dazzled by her own beauty,
had attracted her attention by his own.
Marguerite uttered a cry of terror, for now it was more than
mere pity that she felt for the wounded man—it was interest.
He was no longer a stranger; he was almost an acquaintance.
By her care, La Mole's fine features soon reappeared, free from
stain, but. pale and distorted by pain. A shudder ran through
her whole frame, as she tremblingly placed her hand on his
heart. It still beat. She then took a smelling-bottle from the
table, and applied it to his nostrils.
La Mole opened his eyes.
. " Oh ! mon Dicu !" murmured he—" where am I ?"
"Saved!" said Marguerite. "Reassure yourself—you are
saved."
La Mole turned his eyes on the queen, gazed earnestly for a
moment, and murmuring—" Oh, loveliest of the lovely !" closed
his lids, as if overpowered, and sent forth a long, deep sigh.
Marguerite started. He had become still paler than before,
if that were possible, and she feared that sigh was his last.
THE VICTIMS.
73
" Oh, Heaven !" she cried, " have pity on him !"
At this moment a violent knocking was heard at the door.
Marguerite half raised herself, still supporting La Mole.
" Who is there ?" she cried.
"Madame, it is I—it is I," replied a female voice; "the
Duchess de Nevers."
"Henriette!" cried Marguerite. "There is no danger; it
is my friend. Do you hear me,.sir?"
La Mole contrived to raise himself on one knee.
"'Endeavour to support yourself," said the queen.
La Mole, resting his hand on the ground, managed to keep
his equilibrium.
Marguerite advanced towards the door, but stopped sud-
denly.
" Ah, you are not alone!" she said, hearing the clash of
arms outside.
"No, I have twelve guards, that my brother-in-law, M. de
Guise, assigned me."
" M. de Guise !" murmured La Mole. " The assassin—the
assassin !"
"Silence !" said Marguerite. "Not a word !"
And she looked round, to see where she could conceal the
wounded man.
" A sword ! a dagger !" muttered La Mole.
" To defend yourself—useless! Did you not hear ? They
are twelve, and you alone."
" Not to defend myself, but that I may not fall alive into
their hands."
" No, no !" said Marguerite. " I will save you. Ah ! this
cabinet! Come ! come !"
La Mole made an effort, and, supported by Marguerite,
dragged himself to the cabinet. Marguerite locked the door
upon him, and hid the key in her alms-purse.
"Not a sound, not a movement," whispered she, through
the lattice-work, " and you are saved."
Then hastily throwing a mantle round her, she opened the
door for her friend, who tenderly embraced her.
"Ah !" cried Madame Nevers, "you are unhurt, then?"
" Quite," replied Marguerite, wrapping the mantle still more
closely round her, to conceal the blood on her dress.
" 'Tis well. However, M. de Guise has given me twelve of
his guards to escort me. to his hotel, and as I do not need so
74
MARGUERITE DE 1ALOIS.
many, I will leave six with your majesty. Six of the duke's
guards are worth a regiment of the king's to-night."
Marguerite dared not refuse : she placed the soldiers in the
corridor, and embraced the duchess, who then returned to the
Hotel de Guise, where she resided in her husband's absepc§,
CHAPTER IX.
THE MURDERERS.
Coconnas had not fled, he had but retreated; La Huribre had
not fled, he had flown. The one had disappeared like a tiger,
the other like a wolf.
The consequence was, that La Huriere had already reached
the Place-Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, when Coconnas had only
just quitted the Louvre.
La Huriere was prudently thinking of returning home, but as
he turned the corner, in the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, he fell in with
a troop of Swiss and light horse, led by Maurevel.
" Well!" exclaimed the latter, who had christened himself
the King's Killer, "have you finished already? What the
devil have you done with our Piedmontese gentleman ? Has
any mischance happened to him ? It would be a pity, for he
went to work like a hero."
" I hope not," responded La Huriere; " and where are you
going to ?"
" Oh, I have a small private affair." •
"Then let me go with you," said a voice which made
Maurevel start; " for you know all the good places."
" It is M. de Coconnas," said La Huriere.
" Ah ! you have come from the Louvre. Did your Hugue-
not, then, take refuge there ?" asked Maurevel.
" Mon Dieu ! yes."
" I gave him a pistol-shot at the moment when he was pick-
ing up his sword in the admiral's courtyard, but I somehow or
Other missed him."
" I," added Coconnas, "did not miss him : I gave him such
a thrust in the back that my sword was wet five inches up the
blade. Besides, I saw him fall into the arms of Madame
Marguerite, a fine woman, mordi! yet I confess I should not
THE MURDERERS.
75
be s6rry to hear he was really dead ; the vagabond is infernally
spiteful, and capable of bearing me a grudge all his life."
" Do you mean to go with me ?"
"Why, I do not like standing still. Mordi! I have only
killed three or four as yet, and when I get cold my shoulder
pains me.—Forward ! forward !"
" Captain," said Maurevel to the commander of the troop,
"give me three men, and go on your own way with the rest."
Three Swiss were desired to follow Maurevel, who, followed
by Coconnas and La Huriere, went towards the Rue Sainte
Avoie.
" Where the devil are we going ?" asked Coconnas.
"To the Rue du Chaume, where we have important busi-
ness."
" Tell me," said Coconnas, " is not the Rue du Chaume
near the Temple ?"
« Why ?"
" Because an old creditor of our family lives there, one
Lambert Mercandon, to whom my father has desired me to
hand over a hundred rose nobles I have in my pocket for that
purpose."
" Well," replied Maurevel, " this is a good opportunity for
paying it. This is the day for settling old accounts. Is your
Mercandon a Huguenot?"
"Oh, I understand !" said Coconnas; " he must be—
" Hush ! here we are."
" What is that large hotel, with its entrance in the street ?"
' "The Hotel de Guise."
" Truly," returned Coconnas, " I ought not to have failed
coming here, as I am under the patronage of the great Henry.
But mordi ! all is so very quiet in this quarter, we might fancy
ourselves in the country. Devil fetch me, but everybody is
asleep !"
And indeed the Hotel de Guise seemed as quiet as in ordi-
nary times. All the windows were closed, and a solitary light
burned behind the blind of the principal window over the
entrance. At the corner of the Rue des Quatre-Fils, Maurevel
stopped.
"This is the house of him we seek," he said. "Do you,
La Huriere, with your sleek look, knock at the door; hand
your arquebuss to M. de Coconnas, who has been ogling it this
last half hour. If you are introduced, you must ask to speak
to M. de Mouy."
76
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Oh !" said Coconnas, " now I understand—you have a
creditor in the quarter of the Temple, it would seem."
" Exactly so !" responded Maurevel. " You will go up to
him in the character of a Huguenot, and inform M. de Mouy
of all that has passed: he is brave, and will come down."
" And once down ?" asked La Huriere.
" Once down, I will beg of him to cross swords with me."
La Huriere, without making any reply, knocked at the door,
and the sounds echoing in the silence of the night; caused the
doors of the Hotel de Guise to open, and several heads to
make their appearance from out them; it was then evident
that the hotel was quiet, after the fashion of citadels, that is
to say, in being filled with soldiers. The heads were instantly
withdrawn, guessing, no doubt, what was the matter.
" Does your M. de Mouy live here ?" inquired Coconnas,
pointing to the house at which La Huriere continued to knock.
" No, but his mistress does."
" Mordi ! how gallant you are, to give him an occasion to
draw sword in the presence of his lady-love ! We shall be the
judges of the field. I should like very well to fight myself—
my shoulder burns."
"And your face," asked Maurevel, "it is considerably
damaged, is it not ?"
Coconnas uttered a kind of growl.
" Mordi /" he said, " I hope he is dead ; if I thought not, I
would return to the Louvre and finish him."
La Huriere still kept knocking.
Soon the window on the first floor opened, and a man ap-
peared in the balcony, in a nightcap and drawers, and unarmed.
" Who's there ?" cried he.
Maurevel made a sign to the Swiss, who retreated into a
corner, whilst Coconnas stood close against the wall
" Ah ! Monsieur de Mouy !" said the innkeeper, in his bland-
est tones, " is that you ?"
"Yes ; what then?"
" It is he !" said Maurevel, joyfully.
" Well, then, sir," continued La Huriere, " do you not know
what is going on ? They are murdering the admiral, and all of
our religion. Hasten to their assistance !"
" Ah !" exclaimed De Mouy, " I feared something was plotted
for this night. I ought not to have quitted my brave comrades.
I will come, my friend—wait for me."
THE MURDERERS.
17
And without closing the window, through which issued the
voice of a female in alarm, uttering tender supplications, M.
de Mouy put on his doublet, cloak, and weapons.
" He is coming down, he is coming down ; be ready !" mur-
mured Maurevel, pale with joy, and taking the arquebuss from
Coconnas, and blazing the match, to see that it was alight,
returned it to La Huriere.
" Mordi!" exclaimed Coconnas, "the moon is coming out, to
see this beautiful little fight. I would give a great deal if Lam-
bert Mercandon were here, to serve as M. de Mouy's second."
"Wait, wait!" said Maurevel; " M. de Mouy is equal to
several men himself, and it is likely that we six shall have
enough to do to despatch him. Forward, my men 1" continued
Maurevel, making a sign to the Swiss to stand by the door, in
order to strike De Mouy as he came forth.
" Ah ! ah !" said Coconnas, as he watched these arrange-
ments, " it appears that this will not come off quite as I ex-
pected."
Already was heard the sound of the bar which De Mouy
moved aside. The Swiss were at the door; Maurevel and La
Huriere came forward on tiptoe, whilst, from a feeling of honour,
Coconnas remained where he was, when a young female, whom
no one had expected, appeared, in her turn, in the balcony,
and gave a terrible shriek when she saw the Swiss, Maurevel,
and La Huriere.
De Mouy, who had already half-opened the door, paused.
" Return, return !" cried the damsel. " I see swords glitter,
and the match of an arquebuss—there is treachery!"
"Ah! ah !" said the young man, "let us see, then, what it
means."
And he closed the door, replaced the bar, and went upstairs
again.
Maurevel's order of battle was changed, as soon as he saw
that De Mouy did not come out. The Swiss went and posted
themselves at the other corner of the street, and La Huriere,
with his arquebuss in his hand, awaited the re-appearance of the
enemy at the window.
He did not wait long.
De Mouy came forward, holding before him two pistols of
such respectable length, that La Huriere, who was taking aim,
suddenly reflected, that the Huguenot's balls had no further to
go in reaching him, than had his to reach the balcony. " It is
Marguerite de va loir.
true," said he, " I may kill the gentleman; but it is equally
true that the gentleman may kill me !" and this reflection deter-
mined him to retreat into an angle of the Rue de Brae, so far
off, as to make any aim of his at De Mouy somewhat uncertain.
De Mouy cast a glance around him, and advanced like a man
preparing to fight a duel; but seeing nothing, he exclaimed :
" Why, it appears, my friend, that you have forgotten your
arquebuss at my door ! I am here. What do you want with
me ?"
"Ah, ah!" said Coconnas to himself; "this is a brave fel-
low!"
" Well," continued De Mouy, "friends or enemies, whichever
you are, do you not see I am waiting ?"
La Huriere kept silence, Maurevel made no reply, and the
three Swiss remained in covert.
Coconnas paused an instant; then, seeing that no one con-
tinued the conversation begun by La Hurihre and followed by
De Mouy, left his station, and advancing into the middle of the
street, took off his hat, and said :
" Sir, we are not here for an assassination, as you seem to
suppose, but for a duel. Eh, mordi / come forward, Monsieur
de Maurevel, instead of turning your back. The gentleman
accepts."
" Maurevel!" cried De Mouy ; " Maurevel, the assassin of
my father ! Maurevel, the king's assassin ! Ah, pardieu ! Yes,
I accept."
And taking aim at Maurevel, who was about to knock at the
Hotel de Guise to request a reinforcement, he sent a ball
through his hat.
At the noise of the report and Maurevel's cries, the guard
which had escorted Madame de Nevers came out, accompanied
by three or four gentlemen, followed by their pages, and ap-
proached the house of young De Mouy's mistress.
A second pistol-shot, fired into the midst of the troop, killed
the soldier next to Maurevel; after which, De Mouy, having no
longer any loaded arms, sheltered himself within the gallery of
the balcony.
Meantime, windows began to be opened in every direction,
and according to the respective dispositions of their pacific
or bellicose inhabitants, were closed, or bristled with muskets
and arquebusses.
" Llelp ! my worthy Mercandon," shouted De Mouy, making
THE MURDERERS.
19
a sign to a man in years, who, from a window which opened in
front of the Hotel de Guise, was trying to make out the cause
of the confusion.
" Is it you who call, Sire de Mouy?" cried the old man; "is it
you they are attacking ?"
" Me—you—all the Protestants ; and there—there is the
proof!"
That moment, De Mouy had seen La Huriere direct his
arquebuss at him : it was-fired ; but the young man stooped,
and the ball broke a window behind him.
" Mercandon !" exclaimed Coconnas, who, in his delight at
sight of the tumult, had forgotten his creditor, but was reminded
of him by this apostrophe of De Mouy—"Mercandon, Rue du
Chaume—that is it ! Ah, he lives there ! Good.' We shall
each arrange our affairs with our men !"
And, whilst the people from the Hotel de Guise broke in the
doors of De Mouy's house, and Maurevel, torch in hand, tried
to set it on fire—whilst, the doors once broken, there was a
fearful struggle with an antagonist who at each pistol-shot and
each rapier-thrust brought down his foe—Coconnas tried, by
the help of a paving-stone, to break in the door of Mercandon,
who, unmoved by this solitary effort, was doing his best with his
arquebuss out of his window.
And now, all this desert and obscure quarter was lighted up,
as if by open day—peopled like the interior of an ant-hive ; for,
from the Hotel de Montmorency, six or eight Huguenot gentle-
men, with their servants and friends, issuing forth, made a
furious charge, and began, supported by the firing from the win-
dows, to repulse Maurevel's and the De Guises' force, whom at
length they drove back to the place whence they had come.
Coconnas, who had not yet managed to drive in Mercandon's
door, though he tried to do so with all his might, was surprised
in this sudden retreat. Placing his back to the wall, and
grasping his sword firmly, he began, not only to defend himself,
but to attack his assailants, with cries so terrible, that they were
heard above all the uproar. He struck right and left, hitting
friends and enemies, until a wide space was cleared around him.
In proportion as his rapier made a hole in some breast, and the
warm blood spurted over on his hands and face, he, with dilated
eye, expanded nostrils, and clenched teeth, regained the ground
he had lost, and again approached the beleaguered house.
De Mouy, after a terrible combat in the staircase and hall,
8o
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
had ended by coming out of the burning house like a true hero.
In the midst of all the struggle, he had not ceased to cry •
" Here, Maurevel!—Maurevel, where are you ?" insulting him
by the most opprobrious epithets. He at length appeared in
the street, supporting on one arm his mistress, half naked and
nearly fainting, and holding a poniard between his teeth. His
sword, flaming by the sweeping action he gave it, traced circles
of white or red, according as the moon glittered on the blade,
or a flambeau glared on its blood-stained brightness. Maurevel
had fled. La Huriere, driven back by De Mouy as far as
Coconnas, who did not recognise him, and received him at
sword's point, entreated mercy on both sides. At this moment,
Mercandon perceived him, and knew him, by his white scarfj
to be one of the murderers. He fired. La Huriere shrieked,
threw up his arms, dropped his arquebuss, and, after having
vainly attempted to reach the wall, in order to support himself,
fell with his face flat on the earth.
De Mouy, profiting by this circumstance, turned down the
Rue de Paradis, and disappeared.
Such had been the resistance of the Huguenots, that the De
Guise party, quite repulsed, had retired into their hotel, fearing
to be besieged and taken in their own habitation.
Coconnas, who, drunk with blood and riot, had reached that
degree of excitement when, with the men of the South more
especially, courage changes into madness, had not seen or heard
anything, was going towards a man lying with his face down-
wards in a pool of blood, and whom he recognised for La
Huriere, when the door of the house he had in vain tried to
burst in opened, and old Mercandon, followed by his son and
two nephews, rushed upon him.
" Here he is ! here he is !" cried they all, with one voice.
Coconnas was in the middle of the street, and fearing to be
surrounded by these four men who assailed him at once, gave
one of those chamois bounds which he had so often practised
in his native mountains, and in an instant found himself with
his back against the wall of the Hotel de Guise. Once at ease
as to not being surprised from behind, he put himself in a pos-
ture of defence, and said, jestingly, " Ah! ah! Daddy Mer-
candon, don't you know me ?"
" Wretch !" cried the old Huguenot, " I know you well; you
are engaged against me—me, the friend and companion of your
father!"
THE MURDERERS.
81
" And his creditor, are you not ?"
"Yes; his creditor, as you say."
" Well, then," said Coconnas, " I have come to settle the
account."
" Seize him, bind him !" said Mercandon to the young men
who accompanied him, and who at his bidding rushed towards
the Piedmontese.
" One moment! one moment!" said Coconnas, laughing,
" to seize a man you must have a writ, and you have forgotten
that."
And Vvith these words, he crossed his sword with the young
man nearest to him, and at the first blow cut his wrist to the
bone.
The wounded man retreated, with a shriek of agony.
" That will do for one !" said Coconnas.
At the same moment, the window under which Coconnas nad
sought shelter, opened. He sprang on one side, fearing an
attack from behind j but, instead of an enemy, it was a woman
he beheld; instead of the enemy's weapon he was prepared to
encounter, it was a nosegay that fell at his feet.
" Ah !" he said, " a woman !" He saluted the lady with his
sword, and stooped to pick up the bouquet.
" Be on your guard, brave Catholic !—be on your guard !"
cried the lady.
Coconnas rose, but not before the dagger of the second
nephew had pierced his cloak, and wounded his other shoulder.
The lady uttered a piercing shriek.
Coconnas thanked her, assured her by a gesture, and then
made a pass at the nephew, which he parried ; but at the second
thrust, his foot slipped in the blood, and Coconnas, springing at
him like a tiger-cat, drove his sword through his breast.
" Good ! good ! brave cavalier !" exclaimed the lady of the
Hotel de Guise—" good ! I will send you succour."
" Do not give yourself any trouble about that, madame,"
was Coconnas's reply; " rather look on to the end, if it interests
you, and see how the Comte Annibal de Coconnas settles the
Huguenots."
At this moment, the son of old Mercandon placed a pistol
almost close to Coconnas, and fired. The count fell on his
knee. The lady at the window shrieked again ; but Coconnas
rose instantly ; he had only knelt to avoid the ball, which struck
the wall about two feet beneath where the lady was standing.
82
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS,
Almost at the same moment there issued a cry of rage from
the window of Mercandon's house, and an old woman who
recognised Coconnas as a Catholic, from his white scarf and
cross, threw a flower-pot at him, which struck him above the
knee.
" Bravo !" said Coconnas ; " one throws me flowers and the
other flower-pots."
"Thanks, mother—thanks !" said the young man.
"Go on wife, go on," said old Mercandon; " but take care
of yourself."
"Ah !" said Coconnas, "the women are in arms, then, some
for me, and others against me ! Mordi ! let us end this."
The scene, in fact, was much changed; and evidently drew
near its close.. Coconnas was wounded in the face, it is true,
but in all the vigour of four-and-twenty, used to arms, and irri-
tated rather than weakened by the three or four scratches he
had received ; whilst on the other side there remained only
Mercandon and his son, an old man of sixty or seventy years,
and a stripling of sixteen or eighteen, pale, fair, and weak, and
who, having discharged his pistol, which was consequently use-
less, was brandishing a sword half the length of that of the
Piedmontese. The father, armed only with a dagger and a
discharged arquebuss, was calling for help. An old woman,
looking out of the window, held a piece of marble in her hand,
which she was preparing to hurl down. Coconnas, excited on
the one hand by menaces, and on the other by encouragements,
proud of his twofold victory, drunken with powder and blood,
lighted by the reflection of a house in flames, warmed by the
idea that he was fighting under the eyes of a female whose
beauty was as superior as he felt assured she was of high rank
—Coconnas, like the last of the Horatii, felt his strength re-
double, and seeing the young man falter, rushed on him and
crossed his small weapon with his terrible and bloody rapier.
Two blows sufficed to drive it out of his hands. Then Mer-
candon tried to drive Coconnas back, so that the projectiles
thrown from the window might be sure to strike him, but
Coconnas, to paralyse the double attack cf the old man, who
tried to stab him with his dagger, and the mother of the young
man, who was endeavouring to break his skull with the stone
she was ready to throw, seized his adversary by the body, pre*
senting him against all the blows, as a buckler, and well nigh
strangling him in his Herculean grasp.
THE MURDERERS.
" Help ! help !" cried the young man, " he is breaking my
breast-bone—help! help !" and his voice grew faint in a low
and choking groan.
Then Mercandon ceased to attack, and began to entreat.
" Mercy, mercy ! Monsieur de Coconnas, mercy !—he is my
only child !"
" He is my son, my son !" cried the mother ; " the hope of
our old age ! Do not kill him, sir—do not kill him !"
" Really," cried Coconnas, bursting into laughter, " not kill
him ! What did he mean, then, to do with me, with his swcrd
and pistol ?"
" Sir," said Mercandon, clasping his hands, " I have at home
your father's undertaking, I will return it to you—I have ten
thousand crowns of gold, I will give them to you—I have the
jewels of our family, they shall be yours; but do not kill him 1
—do not kill him !"
" And I have my love," said the lady in the Hotel de Guise,
in a low tone, " and I promise it you."
Coconnas reflected a moment, and said suddenly:
"Are you a Huguenot?"
"Yes," murmured the youth.
" Then you must die !" replied Coconnas, frowning, and put-
ting to his adversary's breast his keen and glittering dagger.
" Die !" cried the old man ; " my poor child, die !"
And the shriek of the mother resounded so piercingly and
loud, that for a moment it shook the firm resolution of the
Piedmontese.
" Oh, madame la duchesse !" cried the father turning to-
wards the lady at the Hotel de Guise, " intercede for us, and
every morning and evening you shall be remembered in our
prayers."
"Then let him be a convert," said the lady.
"lama Protestant," said the boy.
" Then die !" exclaimed Coconnas, lifting his dagger ; " die !
since you will not accept the life which that lovely mouth offers
to you." Mercandon and his wife saw the blade of that deadly
weapon gleam like lightning above the head of their son.
" My son Olivier," shrieked his mother, " abjure, abjure !"
"Abjure, my dear boy!" cried Mercandon, going on his
knees to Coconnas ; "do not leave us alone on the earth !"
" Abjure altogether," said Coconnas ; " for one Credo, three
ppuls and one life."
6—3
8+
MARGUERITE DE VALOJS.
" I will !" said the youth.
" We will S" cried Mercandon and his wife.
" On your knees then," said Coconnas, " and let your son
repeat after me, word for word, the prayer I shall say."
The father obeyed first.
" I am ready," said the son, also kneeling.
Coconnas then began to repeat in Latin the words of the
Credo. But whether from chance or calculation, young Olivier
knelt close to where his sword had fallen. Scarcely did he see
this weapon within his reach, than, not ceasing to repeat the
words which Coconnas dictated, he stretched out his hand to
take it up. Coconnas watched the movement, although he
pretended not to see it; but at the moment when the young
man touched the handle of the sword with his 'fingers, he rushed
on him, knocked him over, and plunged his dagger in his throat,
exclaiming: _ '
" Traitor !"
The youth uttered one cry, raised himself convulsively on
his knee, and fell dead.
" Ah, ruffian !" shrieked Mercandon, " you slay us to rob us
of the hundred rose nobles you owe us."
" Ma foi ! no," said Coconnas, " and here's the proofand
so saying, he threw at the old man's feet the purse which
his father had given him before his departure to pay his
creditor.
" And here's your death !" cried the old woman from the
window.
" Take care, M. de Coconnas—take care !" called out the
lady at the Hotel de Guise.
But before Coconnas could turn his head to comply with
this advice, or get out of the way of the threat, a heavy mass
came hissing through the air, falling on the hat of the Pied-
montese, breaking his sword, and prostrating him on the
pavement: he was overcome, crushed, so that he did not hear
the double cry of joy and distress which came from the right
and left.
Mercandon instantly rushed dagger in hand on Coconnas,
bereft of sense; but at this moment the door of the Hotel de
Guise: opened, and the old man, seeing swords and partisans
gleaming, fled, whilst the lady he had called the duchess, whose
beauty seemed terrible by the light of the flames, all dazzling
as she was with gems and diamonds, leaned half out of the
DEATH, MASS, OR THE BASTILLE.
85
window, in order to direct the newcomers, her arm extended
towards Coconnas.
" There ! there ! in front of me—a gentleman in a red
doublet. There !—that is he—yes, that is he."
CHAPTER X.
death, mass, or the bastille.
Marguerite, as we have said, had shut the door, and re-
turned to her chamber. But as she entered, all breathless,
she saw Gillonne, who, terror-struck, wos leaning against the
door of the cabinet, gazing on the traces of blood on the bed,
the furniture, and the carpet.
" Oh, madame," she exclaimed, "is he then dead ?"
"Silence, Gillonne !" and Gillonne was silent.
Marguerite then took from her gypsire a small gold key,
opened the door of the cabinet, and pointed to the young
man.
La Mole had succeeded in raising himself, and going to-
wards the window; a small poniard, such as females of the
period wore, was in his hand.
" Fear nothing, sir," said Marguerite ; " for, on my soul, you
are in safety !"
La Mole sank on his knees.
" Oh, madame," he cried, " you are more than a queen—you
are a divinity !"
" Do not agitate yourself, sir," said Marguerite , " your blood
flows still. Oh, look, Gillonne, how pale he is ! Let us see
where you are wounded."
" Madame," said La Mole, trying to fix on certain parts of
his body the pain which pervaded'his whole frame, " I think I
have a dagger-thrust in my shoulder, another in mv chest—the
other wounds are mere trifles."
" We will see," said Marguerite. " Gillonne, bring me my
casket with the balms in it."
Gillonne obeyed, and returned, holding in one hand a casket,
and in the other a silver basin and some fine Holland linen.
" Help me to rouse him, Gillonne," said Queen Marguerite ;
" for in attempting to rouse himself the poor gentleman has
lost all his strength."
86
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS.
" Oh !" cried La Mole, " I would rather die than see yOll,
the queen, stain your hands with blood as unworthy as mine.
Oh, never, never!"
" Your blood, sir," replied Gillonne, with a smile, " has
already stained the bed and apartments of her majesty."
Marguerite folded her mantle over her cambric dressing-
gown, all bespattered with small red spots.
" Madame," stammered La Mole, " can you not leave me to
the care of the surgeon ?"
" Of a Catholic surgeon, perhaps," said the queen, with an
expression which La Mole comprehended, and which made him
shudder.
" Come, Gillonne, let us to work !"
-La Mole again endeavoured to resist, and repeated that he
would rather die than occasion the queen labour, which, though
begun in pitv, must end in disgust; but this exertion com-
pletely exhausted his strength, and falling back, he fainted a
second time.
Marguerite, then seizing the poniard which he had dropped,
quickly cut the lace of his doublet; whilst Gillonne, with
another blade, ripped open the sleeves.
Next, Gillonne, with a cloth dipped in fresh water, stanched
the blood which escaped from his shoulder and breast, and
Marguerite, with a silver needle with a round point, probed
the wounds with all the delicacy and skill that Ambroise Pare
could have displayed.
" A dangerous, but not mortal wound, acerrimum humeri
vulnus, no7i ciiitem lethale," murmured the lovely and learned
lady-surgeon; "hand me the salve, Gillonne, and get the lint
ready."
Gillonne had already dried and perfumed the young man's
chest and arms, modelled on the antique, as well as his
shoulders, which fell gracefully back; his neck shaded by thick
hair, and which seemed rather to belong to a statue of Paros,
than the mangled frame of a dying man.
" Poor young man !" murmured Gillonne.
" Is he not handsome ?" said Marguerite, with royal frank-
ness.
"Yes, madame ; but I think we should lift him on the
bed."
" Yes," said Marguerite, " you are rightand the two
women, uniting their strength, raised La Mole, and deposited
JDEATH, MASS, OR THE BASTILLE.
87
him on a kind of large sofa in front of the window, which
they partly opened.
This movement aroused La Mole, who heaved a sigh ; and
opening his eyes, began to find that delightful sensation which
accompanies every healing application to a wounded man,
when, on his return to consciousness, he finds freshness instead
of burning heat, and the perfumes of new applications instead
of the noisome odour of blood.
He muttered some unconnected words, to which Marguerite;
replied by a smile, placing her finger on her mouth.
At this moment several blows were struck at the door.
" Some one knocks at the secret passage," said Marguerite;
s£ I will go and see who it is. Do you remain here, and do
not leave him for a single moment."
Marguerite went into the chamber, and closing the door of
the cabinet, opened that of the passage which led to the king's
and queen-mother's apartments.
" Madame de Sauve !" she exclaimed, retreating suddenly,
and with an expression which resembled hatred, if not terror :
so true it is that a woman never forgives another for carrying
off from her even a man whom she does not love; " Madame
de Sauve !"
" Yes, your majesty !" she replied, clasping her hands.
" You here, madame ?" exclaimed Marguerite, more and
more surprised, and at the same time more and more imperative.
Charlotte fell on her knees.
" Madame," she said, " pardon me ! I know how guilty I am
towards you; but if you knew—the fault is not wholly mine ;
aii express command of the queen-mother "
"Rise!" said Marguerite, "and as I do not suppose you
have come with the intention of justifying yourself to me, tell
me why you have come at all ?"
41 have come, madame," said Charlotte, still on her knees,
and with a look of wild alarm, " I came to ask you if he were
not here ?"
"Here ! who?—of whom are you speaking, madame ? for I
really do not understand."
" Of the king !"
" Of the king? What, do you follow him to my apartments ?
You know very well that he never comes hither."
" Ah, madame !" continued the Baroness de Sauve, without
replying to these attacks, or even seeming to comprehend them,
"ah, would to Heaven he were here!"
88
marguerite de valois.
"And wherefore?"
" Eh, mon JDieu! madame, because they are murdering
the Huguenots, and the King of Navarre is the chief of the
Huguenots."
" Oh !" cried Marguerite, seizing Madame de Sauve bv the
hand, and compelling her to rise; " ah ! I had forgotten'
Besides, I did not think a king could run the same dangers as
other men."
" More, madame—a thousand times more !" cried Charlotte.
" In fact, Madame de Lorraine had warned me; I had
begged him not to leave the Louvre. Has he done so ?"
" No, madame, he is in the Louvre; but if he is not
here "
" He is not here !"'
" Oh !" cried Madame de Sauve, with a burst of agony,
" then he is a dead man, for the queen-mother has sworn his
destruction !"
"His destruction! ah," said Marguerite, "you terrify me—
impossible!"
"Madame," replied Madame de Sauve, with that energy
' which passion alone can give, " I tell you that no one knows
where the King of Navarre is."
" And where is the queen-mother ?"
"The queen-mother sent me to seek M. de Guise and M. de
Tavannes, who were in her oratory, and then dismissed me."
"And my husband has not been in your apartment?" in-
quired Marguerite.
" He has not, madame. I have sought him everywhere, and
asked everybody for him. One soldier told me he thought he
had seen him in the midst of the guards who accompanied
him, with his sword drawn in his hand, some time before the
massacre begun, and the massacre has begun this hour."
" Thanks, madame," said Marguerite; " and although per-
haps the sentiment which impels you is 'an additional offence
towards me,—yet, again, thanks !"
"Oh, forgive me, madame!" she said, "and I shall return to
my apartments more fortified by your pardon, for I dare not
follow you, even at a distance." •
Marguerite extended her hand to her.
" I will seek Queen Catherine," she said, " and return to you.
The King of Navarre is under my safeguard ; I have promised
him my alliance, and I will be faithful to my promise."
DEATH,\ MASS, OR THE BASTILLE.
89
" But suppose you cannot obtain access to the queen-mother,
madame ?"
" Then I will go to my brother Charles, and I will speak
to him."
" Go, madame, go," said Charlotte, " and may God guide
your majesty!"
Marguerite passed quickly along the passage, and Madame
de Sauve followed her.
The Queen of Navarre saw her turn to her own apartment,
and then went herself towards the queen's chamber.
All was changed here. Instead of the crowd of eager
courtiers, who usually opened their ranks before the queen and
respectfully saluted her, Marguerite met only guards with red
partisans and garments stained with blood, or gentlemen in torn
mantles—their faces blackened with powder, bearing orders and
despatches,—some going in, others going out, and all these
entrances and exits made a terrible and immense confusion in
the galleries.
Marguerite, however, went boldly on until she reached the
antechamber of the queen-mother, which was guarded by a
double file of soldiers, who only allowed those to enter who had
the proper countersign. Marguerite in vain tried to pass this
living barrier: several times she saw the door open and shut,
and at each time she saw Catherine moving and excited, as if
she were only twenty years of age, writing, receiving letters,
opening them, addressing a word to one, a smile to another;
and those on whom she smiled most graciously, were those who
were the most covered with dust and blood.
Without the walls was heard, from time to time, the report
of fire-arms.
" I shall never reach him!" said Marguerite, after having
made several vain attempts to pass the soldiers.
At this moment, M. de Guise passed : he had come to inform
the queen of the murder of the admiral, and was returning to
the butchery.
" Oh, Henri!" cried Marguerite, " where is the King of
Navarre ?"
The duke looked at her with a smile of astonishment, bowed,
and, without any reply, passed on.
" Ah, my dear Rene," said the queen, recognising Catherine's
perfumer, " is that you ?—you have just left my mother. I)o
you know what has become of my husband ?"
go
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
"His majesty the King of Navarre is no friend of mine,
madame—that you know very well. It is even said," he added,
with a horrid smile—" it is even said, that he ventures to accuse
me of having been the accomplice, with Queen Catherine, in
poisoning his mother."
"No, no!" cried Marguerite, "my good Rene, do net
believe that!"
" Oh, it is of little consequence, madame !" said the per-
fumer; "neither the King of Navarre nor his party are any
longer to be feared !"
And he turned his back on Marguerite.
" Ah, Monsieur de Tavannes !" cried Marguerite, " one word,
I beseech you !"
Tavannes stopped.
"Where is Henry of Navarre?"
" Ma foihe replied, in a loud voice, " I believe he is
somewhere in the city with the Messieurs d'Alengon and De
Conde."
And then he added, in a tone so low that the queen alone
could hear:
"Your majesty, if you would see him—to be in whose place
I would give my life—go to the king's armoury."
" Thanks, Tavannes—thanks !" said Marguerite j " I will go
there."
And she went on her way thither, murmuring :
" Oh, after all I promised him—after the way in which he
behaved to me when that ingrate, Henri de Guise, was con-
cealed in the closet—I cannot let him perish !"
And she knocked at the door of the king's apartments; but
they were begirt within by two companies of guards.
"No one is admitted to the king," said the officer, coming
forward.
"But I " said Marguerite.
" The order is general."
"I, the Queen of Navarre !—I, his sister !"
"I dare make no exception, madame."
And the officer closed the door.
" He is lost 1" exclaimed Marguerite, alarmed at the sight of
all the sinister countenances she had seen. " Yes, yes ! I com-
prehend all. I have been used as a bait. I am the snare
which has entrapped the Huguenots : but I will enter, if I
should be killed in the attempt!"
JOE A TH, MASS, OR THE BASTILLE.
91
And Marguerite ran like a mad creature through the corridors
and galleries, when suddenly, whilst passing by a small door,
she heard a low chanting, almost as melancholy as it was mono-
tonous. It was a Calvinistic psalm, sung by a trembling voice
in an adjacent chamber.
" The nurse of my brother the king—the good Madelon—it
is she !" exclaimed Marguerite. " God of the Christians, aid
me now !"
And, full of hope, Marguerite knocked at the little door.
Soon after the counsel which Marguerite had conveyed to
him, after his conversation with Rene, and after quitting the
queen-mother's chamber, poor Phcebe, like a good genius, op-
posing, Henry of Navarre had met some worthy Catholic gentle-
men, who, under a pretext of doing him honour, had escorted
him to his apartments, where a score of Huguenots awaited
him, who had rallied round the young prince, and, having once
rallied, would not leave him—so strongly, for some hours, had
the presentiment of that night weighed on the Louvre. They
had remained there, without any one attempting to disturb them;
At last, at the first stroke of the bell of St.-Germain-l'Auxerrois,
which resounded through all hearts like a funeral knell, Tavannes
entered, and, in the midst of a death-like silence, announced
that King Charles IX. desired to speak to Henry.
It was useless to attempt resistance, and no one thought of
it. They had heard the ceilings, galleries, and corridors crack
beneath the feet of the assembled soldiers, who were in the
courtyards, as well as in the apartments, to the number of two
thousand. Henry, after having taken leave of his friends, whom
he might never again see, followed Tavannes, who led him to a
small gallery contiguous to the king's apartments, where he left
him alone, unarmed, and a prey to mistrust.
The King of Navarre counted here alone, minute by minute,
two mortal hours ; listening, with increasing alarm, to the sound
of the tocsin and the discharge of fire-arms ; seeing through a
small window, by the light of the .flames and flambeaux, the
victims and their assassins pass ; understanding nothing of these
shrieks of murder—these cries of distress—not even suspecting,
in spite of his knowledge of Charles IX., the queen-mother,
and the Duke de Guise, the horrible drama at this moment
enacting.
Henry had not physical courage, but he had better than that
■—he had moral fortitude. Fearing danger, he yet smiled at
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
and faced it; but it was danger in the field of battle—danger
in the open air—danger in the eyes of all, and attended by the
noisy harmony of trumpets and the loud and vibrating beat of
drums,—but now he was without arms, shut up, immured in
obscurity which was scarcely sufficient to enable him to see the
enemy who might glide towards him, and the weapon that might
be raised to strike him.
These two hours were, perhaps, the most agonizing of his
life.
In the hottest of the tumult, and as Henry was beginning to
comprehend that, in all probability, this was some organized
massacre, a captain came to him, desiring the prince to follow
him to the king. As they approached, the door opened, and
closed when they entered. The captain then led Henry to the
king, who was in his armoury. When they entered, the king
was seated in an arm-chair, his two hands placed on the two
arms of the seat, and his head falling on his bosom, As they
entered, Charles looked up, and on his brow Henry observed
the perspiration dropping from it like large beads.
" Good evening, Harry," said the king, roughly. " La Chastre,
leave us."
The captain retired, and a profound silence ensued. Henry
looked around him with uneasiness, and saw that he was alone
with the king. Charles suddenly arose.
" Mordieu !" said he, passing his hands through his light brown
hair, and wiping his brow at the same time, " you are glad to be
with me, are not you, Harry ?"
"Certainly, sire," replied the King of Navarre, " I am always
happy to be with your majesty."
" Happier than if you were down there, eh ?" continued
Charles, following his own thoughts, rather than replying to
Henry's compliment.
" I do not understand, sire," replied Henry.
"Look out, then, and you will soon understand."
And with a quick gesture, Charles moved, or rather sprung
towards the window, and drawing his brother-in-law towards
him, who became more and more alarmed, he pointed to him
the horrible outlines of the assassins, who, on the deck of a
boat, were cutting the throats or drowning the victims brought
them at every moment.
" In the name of Heaven !" cried Henry, "what is going on
to-night ?"
DEATH, MASS, OR THE BASTILLE.
93
" To-night, sir," replied Charles IX., " they are ridding me of
all the Huguenots. Look down there, over the Hotel de
Bourbon, at the smoke and flames : they are the smoke and
flames of the admiral's house,, which has been fired. Do you
see that body, which these good Catholics are drawing on a
torn mattress—it is the corpse of the admiral's son-in-law—the
carcass of your friend, Teligny."
"What means this?" cried the King of Navarre, seeking
vainly by his side for the hilt of his dagger, and trembling
equally with shame and anger; for he felt that he was, at the
same time, laughed at and menaced.
"It means," cried Charles IX., furious, and turning pale
with intense rage, " that I will no longer have any Huguenots
about me. Do you hear me, Henry?—Am I king? am I
master?"
"Your majesty "
" My majesty kills and massacres at this moment all that is
not Catholic, at my pleasure. Are you Catholic ?" exclaimed
Charles, whose anger rose like an excited sea.
" Sire," replied Henry, " do you remember your own words,
' What matters the religion of those who serve me well!' "
" Ah ! ah! ah !" cried Charles, bursting into a ferocious
laugh ; " you ask me if I remember my words, Henry ! ' Verba
volantas my sister Margot says; and had not all those "—and
he pointed to the city with his finger—" served me well, also ?
Were they not brave in battle, wise in council, deeply devoted ?
They were all useful subjects—but they were Huguenots, and
I want none but Catholics."
Henry remained silent.
" Well! do you understand me now, Harry ?" asked
Charles.
I understand, sire."
" Weil ?"
" Well, sire ! I do not see why the King of Navarre should
not do what so many gentlemen and poor folk have done. For
if they all die, poor unfortunates, it is because the same terms
have been proposed to them which your majesty proposes to
me, and they have refused, as I refuse."
Charles seized the arm of the young prince, and fixed on him
a look whose vacancy suddenly changed into a fierce and savage
scowl.
"What!" he said, "do you believe that I have taken the
94
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
trouble to offer the alternative of the mass to those whose throats
are being cut down there ?"
"Sire," said Henry, disengaging his arm, "will you not die
in the religion of \our fathers ?"
"Yes, mordieu ! and thou?"
" Well, sire, I will do the same !" replied Henry.
Charles uttered a cry of fierce rage, and seized with trembling
hand his arquebuss placed on the table. Henry, who, leaning
against the tapestry, with the perspiration streaming from his
brow, was yet, owing to his presence of mind, calm to all ap-
pearance, followed with the anxious amaze of a bird fascinated
by a serpent every movement of the terrible king.
Charles cocked his arquebuss, and striking his foot with blind
rage, cried, as he dazzled Henry's eyes with, the polished barrel
of the brandished weapon, "Will you accept the mass?"
Henry remained mute.
Charles IX. shook the vaults of the Louvre with the most
terrible oath that ever issued from the lips of man, and grew
more livid than before.
" Death, mass, or the bastille !" he cried, taking aim at the
King of Navarre.
"Oh, sire !" exclaimed Henry, "will you kill me—me, your
brother-in law ?"
Henry thus eluded, by his incomparable presence of mind,
which was one of the strongest faculties of his organization, the
answer which the king demanded, for doubtless had this reply
been in the negative, Henry had been a dead man.
As immediately after the last paroxysms of rage, there is
always the commencement of reaction, Charles IX. did not
repeat the question he had addressed to the Prince of Navarre;
and, after a moment's hesitation, during which he uttered a
hoarse kind of growl, he turned towards the open window, and
aimed at a man who was running along the quay in front.
" I must kill some one !" cried Charles IX., ghastly as a
corpse, his eyes injected with blood ; and firing as he spoke, he
struck the man who was running
Henry uttered a groan.
Then, animated by a frightful ardour, Charles loaded and
fired his arquebuss without cessation, uttering cries of joy
every time his aim was successful.
"It is all over with me !" said the King of Navarre to him-
self; " when he sees no one else to kill, he will kill me !"
DEATIJ, MASS, OR THE BASTILLE.
93
"Well:" said a voice behind the princes, suddenly, "is it
done ?"
It was Catherine de Medicis, who had entered as the king
fired his last shot.
"No, thousand thunders!" said the king, throwing his
arquebuss on the floor. " No, the -obstinate blockhead will
not consent!"
Catherine made no reply. She turned slowly towards the
part of the chamber in which Henry was, as motionless as one
of the figures of the tapestry against which he was leaning.
She then gave a glance to the king, which seemed to say:
" Then, why is he alive ?"
" He lives, he lives !" murmured Charles IX., who perfectly
understood the glance, and replied to it without hesitation—
" he lives, because he is my relative."
Catherine smiled.
Henry saw the smile, and felt then assured that it was with
Catherine he must struggle.
" Madame," he said to her, "all comes from you, I see very
well, and nothing from my brother-in-law, Charles. You have
laid the plan for drawing me into a snare. It was you who
made your daughter the bait which was to destroy us all. It
has been you who has separated me from my wife, that she
might not see me killed before her eyes."
" Yes, but that shall not be !" cried another voice, breathless
and impassioned, which Henry recognised in an instant, and
made Charles start with surprise, and Catherine with rage.
" Marguerite !" exclaimed Henry.
" Margot!" said Charles IX.
" My daughter !" muttered Catherine.
" Sir," said Marguerite to Henry, " your last words were an
accusation against me, and you were both right and wrong.
Right, for I am the means by which they attempted to destroy
you : wrong, for I did not know that you were going towards
destruction. I myself, sir, owe my life to chance—to my
mother's not thinking of me, perhaps; but as soon as I learned
your danger I remembered my duty, and a wife's duty is to
share the fortunes of her husband. If you are exiled, sir, I
will be exiled too ; if they imprison you. I will be your fellow-
captive ; if they kill you, I will also die."
And she extended her hand to her husband, which he eagerly
seized, if not with love, at least with gratitude.
96
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" Oh, my poor Margot!" said Charles, " you had much
better desire him to become a Catholic !"
" Sire," replied Marguerite, with that lofty dignity which was
so natural to her, " for your own sake, do not ask any prince
of your house to commit a base action."
Catherine darted a significant glance at Charles.
" Brother," cried. Marguerite, who, as well as Charles IX.,
understood the terrible dumb-show of Catherine, " remember,
you made him my husband !"
Charles was for a time stupefied between the imperative look
of Catherine and the supplicating regard of Marguerite, but
after a pause, he said in a whisper to Catherine :
" Faith, madame, Margot is right, and Harry is my brother-
in-law."
" Yes," was Catherine's reply, in a similar whisper to her
son ; " yes, but if he were not "
CHAPTER XI.
the hawthorn of the cemetery of the innocents.
When she had reached her own apartments, Marguerite vainly
endeavoured to divine the words which Catherine de Media's
had whispered to Charles IX., and which had cut short the
terrible interview on which hung life and death.
A part of the morning was employed by her in attending to
La Mole, and the other in trying to guess the enigma, which
her mind could not discover.
The King of Navarre remained a prisoner in the Louvre,
whilst the pursuit of the Huguenots was hotter than ever. To
the terrible night had succeeded a day of massacre still more
horrible. It was no longer the tocsin and bells that sounded,
but the Te Deum, and the echoes of this joyous anthem,
resounding in the midst of fire and' slaughter, were perhaps
more sad by the light of the sun than had been the knell of
the previous night sounding in darkness. This was not all.
Strange to say, a hawthorn-tree, which had blossomed in the
spring, and which, according to custom, had lost its odorous
flowers in the month of June, had reblossomed during the
night, and the Catholics, who saw in this even a miracle, and
who by rendering this miracle popular made the Deity their
THE CEMETERY OF THE INNOCENTS.
97
accomplice, went in procession, cross and banner at their head,
to the Cemetery of the Innocents, where this hawthorn was
blooming. This kind of assent from Heaven had redoubled
the efforts of the assassins, and whilst the city continued to
present in each street and thoroughfare a scene of desolation,
the Louvre had become the common tomb for all Protestants
who had been shut up there when the signal was given. The
King of Navarre, the Prince de Conde, and La Mole, were
the only survivors.
Assured as to La Mole, whose wounds were progressing
well, Marguerite was occupied now with one sole idea, which
was to save her husband's life, so pertinaciously threatened.
No doubt, the first sentiment which actuated the wife was one
of generous pity for a man for whom, as for the Bearnais, she
had sworn, if not love, at least alliance ; but there was, beside,
another less pure sentiment which had penetrated the queen's
heart.
Marguerite was ambitious, and had foreseen almost the
certainty of royalty in her marriage with Henry de Bourbon,
and if she lost him, it was not only a husband, but a throne
she lost.
Whilst wrapped in her reflections, she heard a knock at the
secret door. She started; for three persons only came by that
door—the king, the queen-mother, and the Duke d'Alengon.
She half opened the door of the cabinet, made a gesture of
silence to Gillonne and La Mole, and then opened the door to
her visitor.
It was the Duke d'Alengon. The young prince had dis-
appeared since the evening. For a moment, Marguerite had
had the idea of claiming his intercession for the King of
Navarre, but a terrible idea restrained her. The marriage
had taken place contrary to his wishes. Frangois detested
Henry, and had only evinced his neutrality towards the
Bearnais, because he was convinced that Henry and his wife
had remained strangers to each other. Marguerite therefore
shuddered at perceiving the young prince more than she had
shuddered at seeing the king, or even the queen-mother.
D'Alengon was attired with his usual elegance. His clothes
and linen gave forth those perfumes which Charles IX.
despised, but of which the Dukes d'Anjou and d'Alengon
made continual use.
On his entrance, he pressed his pale thin lips against the
7
98
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
forehead of his sister. Then, sitting down, he began to relate
to his sister the bloody particulars of the night: the lingering
and terrible death of the admiral, the instantaneous death of
Teligny, pierced by a ball. He paused and emphasized all the
more horrid details of this night, with that love of blood pecu-
liar to himself and his two brothers ; and Marguerite did not
interrupt him until he had finished.
" It was not to tell me this only," she then said, " that you
came hither, brother ?"
The Duke d'Alengon smiled.
"You have something else to say to me?"
".No," replied the duke; " I am waiting."
" Waiting ! for what?"
" Did you not tell me, dearest Marguerite," said the duke,
drawing his chair close up to that of his sister, "that this
marriage with the King of Navarre was contracted against
your will ?"
" Yes, no doubt. I did not know the Prince of Beam, when
he was proposed to me as a husband."
" And after you knew him, did you not say that you expe-
rienced no love for him ?"
"I said so, and it is true."
" Was it not your opinion that this marriage would make
you miserable ?"
" My dear Frangois," said Marguerite, " when a marriage is
not extremely happy, it is always excessively miserable."
" Well, then, my dear Marguerite, as I said to you—I am
waiting."
" But for what are you waiting ?"
" Until you display your joy !"
" What have I to be joyful for ?"
" The unexpected occasion which offers itself for you to re-
sume your liberty."
"My liberty?" replied Marguerite, who was resolved, on
allowing the prince to disclose all his thoughts.
" Yes ; your liberty ! You will now be separated from the
King of Navarre."
" Separated !" said Marguerite, fastening her eyes on the
young prince.
The Duke d'Alengon tried to sustain his sister's look, but his
eyes soon sunk with embarrassment.
" Separated !" repeated Marguerite ; " and how, brother ? for
THE CEMETERY OF THE INNOCENTS.
99
I should like to comprehend all you mean, and by what method
you propose to separate us ?"
" Why," murmured the duke, " Henry is a Huguenot."
"No doubt; but he made no mystery of his religion, and they
knew that when we were married."
"Yes; but since your marriage, sister," asked the duke,
allowing, in spite of himself, a ray of joy to illumine his coun-
tenance ; " what has been Henry's behaviour ?"
"Why, you know better than any one, Francois, for he nas
passed his days almost perpetually in your society, sometimes
at the chase, sometimes at mall, sometimes at tennis."
"Yes, his days, no doubt," replied the duke; "his days—
but his nights ?"
Marguerite was silent; it was now her turn to cast down her
eyes.
" His nights," repeated the Duke d'Alengon, "his nights ?"
" Well ?" inquired Marguerite, feeling that it was requisite
that she should say something in reply.
" Well, he passes them with Madame de Sauve !"
" How do you know that ?" exclaimed Marguerite.
" I .know it, because I had an interest in knowing it," replied
the young prince, picking the embroidery of his sleeves.
Marguerite began to understand what Catherine had whispered
to Charles, but affected to remain in ignorance.
" Why do you tell me this, brother ?" she replied, with a
well-affected air of melancholy ; " was it for the sake of recall-
ing to me that no one here loves me or clings to me, not even
those whom nature has given to me as protectors, whom the
Church has given me as my spouse ?"
" You are unjust," said the Duke d'Alen^n, drawing nis
chair still nearer to his sister, " I love you and protect you !"
"Brother," said Marguerite, looking steadfastly at him, "have
you anything to say to me on the part of the queen-mother ?"
"I ! you mistake, sister. I swear to you—what can make
you think that ?"
" What can make me think that ?—why, because you break
the intimacy that binds you to my husband, you abandon the
cause of the King of Navarre—an alliance with whom "
" Has now become impossible, sister," interrupted the Duke
d'Alengon.
" And wherefore ?"
" Because the king has designs on your husband, and our,
7—2
100
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
mother has seen through them all. I allied myself to the
Huguenots, because I believed the Huguenots were in favour;
but now they kill the Huguenots, and in another week there
will not remain fifty in the whole kingdom. I held out my
hand to the King of Navarre, because he was your husband;
but now he is not your husband, what can you say to that—
you, who are not only the loveliest woman in France, but have
the clearest head in the kingdom ?"
"Why, I have to say," replied Marguerite, "that I know our
brother Charles; I saw him yesterday in one of those fits of
frenzy, every one of which shortens his life ten years. I have
to say that these attacks are, unfortunately, very frequent, and
that thus, in all probability, our brother Charles has not very
long to live; and, finally, I have to say that the King of Poland
is just dead, and the question of electing a prince of the house
of France in his stead is much discussed; and when circum-
stances are thus, it is not the moment to abandon allies, who,
in the moment of struggle, might support us with the strength
of a nation and the power of a kingdom."
" And you !" exclaimed the duke, " do you not act much
more treasonably to me in preferring a stranger to your own
house ?"
"Explain yourself, Francois!—in what have I acted trea-
sonably to you ?"
"You, yesterday begged the life of the King of Navarre from
King Charles."
"Well?" said Marguerite.
The duke rose hastily, paced round the chamber twice or
thrice with a bewildered air.
"Adieu, sister!" he said at last. "You would not under-
stand me; do not, therefore, complain of whatever may happen
to you."
Marguerite turned pale, but remained fixed in her place.
She saw the Duke d'Alengon go away, without making any
attempt to detain him ; but scarcely had he entered the corri-
dor, than he returned.
"Sister Marguerite," he said, "I had forgotten one thing;
that is, that to-morrow, at a certain hour, the King of Navarre
will be dead."
Marguerite uttered a cry, for the idea that she was the in-
strument of assassination caused in her a fear she could not
subdue.
THE CEMETERY OF THE INNOCENTS. idi
" And you will not prevent this death," she said ; " you will
not save your best and most faithful ally ?"
" Since yesterday, the King of Navarre is no longer my ally."
" Then who is ?"
" M. de Guise. By destroying the Huguenots, M. de Guise
has become the king of the Catholics."
"And is it a son of Henry II. who recognises as his king a
Duke of Lorraine ?"
"You will not see things in a right light, Marguerite."
" I confess that I seek in vain to read your thoughts."
" Sister, you are of as good a house as the Princess de Por-
cian; De Guise is no more immortal than the King of Navarre.
Well, Marguerite, suppose that Monsieur is elected King of
Poland; well, I am King of France, and you, my sister, shall
reign with me, and be queen of the Catholics."
Marguerite was overwhelmed at the depth of the views of
this youth, whom no one at court even thought possessed of
common understanding.
" There is only one thing which can prevent this capital
plan from succeeding, brother," said she, rising as she spoke.
" And what is that ?"
"That I do not love the Duke de Guise."
" And whom, then, do you love ?"
"No one."
D'Alemjon looked at Marguerite with the astonishment of a
man, who, in his turn, does not comprehend, and left the apart-
ment, pressing his cold hand on his forehead, which ached to
bursting. Marguerite was alone and thoughtful, when Queen
Catherine sent to know if she would accompany her in a pil-
grimage to the hawthorn of the Cemetery of the Innocents.
She sent word, that if they would prepare a horse, she would
most readily accompany their majesties.
A few minutes after, the page came to tell her that all was
ready; and, after a sign to Gillonne to take care of La Mole,
she went forth.
The king, the queen-mother, Tavannes, and the principal
Catholics, were already mounted. Marguerite cast a rapid
glance over the group, which was composed of twenty persons
nearly, but the King of Navarre was not of the party.
Madame de Sauve was there, and she exchanged a glance
with her, which convinced the Queen of Navarre that her hus-
band's mistress had something to tell her.
102
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
As they proceeded, the people shouted and cried, " Vive k
roi! Vive la messe ! Mort aux Huguenots !"
When they reached the top of the Rue des Prouvelles, they
met some men who were dragging a carcass without a head. It
was that of the admiral. The men were going to hang it by
the feet at Montfaucon.
They entered the Cemetery of Saint Innocents, and the
clergy, forewarned of the visit of the king and the queen-
mother, awaited their majesties to harangue them.
' Madame de Sauve profited by a moment when Catherine was
listening to the discourse that was being made, to approach the
Queen of Navarre, and beg leave to kiss her hand. Mar-
guerite extended her arm towards her, and Madame de Sauve,
as she kissed the queen's hand, secretly put a small piece of
paper up her sleeve.
Quick and well managed as was Madame de Sauve's pro-
ceeding, yet Catherine perceived it, and turned round at the mo-
inent when the maid of honour was kissing Marguerite's hand.
The two women saw that look, which penetrated them like
lightning, but both remained unmoved ; only Madame de Sauve
left Marguerite, and resumed her place near Catherine.
When the address was finished, Catherine made a gesture,
smilingly, to the Queen of Navarre, who went towards her.
" Eh, my daughter," said the queen-mother, in her Italian
patois, " are you, then, on such intimate terms with Madame de
Sauve ?"
Marguerite smiled in turn, and gave to her lovely counte-
nance the bitterest expression she could, as she said :
" Yes, mother ; the serpent came to bite my hand !"
" Ah, ah !" replied Catherine, with a smile, "you are jealous,
I think !"
"You mistake, madame," replied Marguerite; "I am no
more jealous of the King of Navarre than the King of Navarre
is jealous of me, only I know how to distinguish my friends
from my enemies. I like those who like me, and detest those
who hate me. If not, madame, should I be your daughter ?"
Catherine smiled so as to make Marguerite understand, that,
if she had had any suspicion, it had vanished.
At this moment arrived other pilgrims. The Duke de Guise
came with a troop of gentlemen all warm still with recent
carnage. They escorted a litter, richly covered with tapestry,
which stopped in front of the king.
THE CEMETERY OF THE INNOCENTS. 103
"The Duchess de Nevers !" cried Charles IX., "let that
lovely and pure Catholic come and receive our compliments.
Why, they tell me, cousin, that from your window you made
war on the Huguenots, and killed one with a stone."
The Duchess de Nevers blushed exceedingly.
" Sire," she said, in a low tone, and kneeling before the king,
"it Was, on the contrary, a wounded Catholic, whom I had the
good fortune to rescue."
" Good—good, my cousin ! there are two ways of serving
me."
During this time, the people again cried, " Vive le roi!
Vive le Due de Guise ! Vive la messe !"
" Do you return to the Louvre with us, Henriette ?" inquired
the queen-mother of the lovely duchess.
Marguerite touched her friend on the elbow, who, under-
standing the sign, replied :
"No, madame, unless your majesty desire it; for I have
business in the city with her majesty the Queen of Navarre."
"And what are you going to do together?" inquired Ca
therine.
" To see some very rare and curious Greek books found at an
old Protestant pastor's, and which have been taken to the Tower
of Saint Jacques la Boucherie," replied Marguerite.
" You would do much better to see the last Huguenot flung
from the top of Pont-aux-Meuniers into the Seine," said
Charles IX. ; " that is the place for all good Frenchmen."
"We will go, if it be your majesty's desire," replied the
Duchess de Nevers.
Catherine cast a look of distrust on the two young women.
Marguerite, on the watch, remarked it, and turning herself
round uneasily, looked about her.
This assumed orjeal disquietude did not escape Catherine.
" What are you looking for ?"
I am seeking—I do not see " she replied.
" Whom are you seeking ?"
" Madame de Sauve," said Marguerite ; " she must have re-
turned to the Louvre."
"Did I not say you were jealous!" said Catherine, in her
daughter's ear. " Oh, besiia/ Come, come, Henriette," she
added, " begone, and take the Queen of Navarre with you."
Marguerite pretended to look still about her; then, turning
towards her friend, she said, in a whisper :
104
MARGUERITE DE VALOiS.
"Take me away quickly; I have matters of great import-
ance to say to you."
The duchess saluted the king and queen-mother respectfully,
and then, inclining before the Queen of Navarre :
"Will your majesty condescend to come into my litter?"
"Willingly, only you will have to take me back to the
Louvre."
" My litter, like my servants and myself, are at your majesty's
orders."
Queen Marguerite entered the litter, whilst Catherine and her
gentlemen returned to the Louvre, and, during the route, she
spoke incessantly to the king, pointing several times to Ma-
dame de Sauve; and at each time the king laughed—as
Charles IX. did laugh—that is, with a laugh more sinister than
a threat.
As to Marguerite, as soon as she felt the litter in motion, and
had no longer to fear the searching gaze of Catherine, she
quickly drew from her sleeve the note of Madame de Sauve,
and read as follows :
" I have received orders to send to-night to the King of
Navarre two keys ; one is that of the chamber in which he is
shut up, and the other is the key of my chamber; when once
in my apartment, I am enjoined to keep him there until six
o'clock in the morning.
" Let your majesty reflect—let your majesty decide. Let
your majesty esteem my life as nothing."
" There is now no doubt," murmured Marguerite ; " and the
poor woman is the tool of which they wish to make use to
destroy us all. But we will see if the Queen Margot, as my
brother Charles calls me, is so easily to be made a nun of."
" And what is that letter about ?" inquired the Duchess de
Nevers.
" Ah ! duchess, I have so many things to say to you !"
replied Marguerite, tearing the note into a thousand bits, and
scattering them to the winds.
MUTUAL CONFIDENCE.
CHAPTER XII.
MUTUAL CONFIDENCE.
"And, first, where are we going?" asked Marguerite; "not
to the Pont des Meuniers, I suppose—I have seen enough
slaughter since yesterday."
" I have taken the liberty to conduct your majesty "
" First and foremost, my majesty requests you to forget my
majesty; you were taking me "
".To the Hotel de Guise, unless you decide otherwise."
" No, no, let us go there, Henriette; the duke and your
husband are not there."
" Oh, no," cried the duchess, her bright eyes sparkling with
joy; " no: neither my husband, my brother-in-law, nor any
one else. I am free—free as air—free as a bird; free, my
queen! Do you understand the happiness there is in that
word ?—free! I come, I go, I command. Ah, poor queen,
you are not free—you sigh."
"You come, you go, you command. Is that all? Is that
all the use of liberty r"
" Your majesty promised me that you would begin our
mutual confidence."
"Again, 'your majesty!' I shall be angry soon, Henriette.
Have you forgotten our agreement ?"
"No; your respectful servant in public—in private, your
madcap confidante. Is it not so, Marguerite ?"
" Yes, yes," said the queen, smiling.
"No family rivalry, no treachery in love ; all fair and open.
An offensive and defensive alliance, for the sole purpose of
seeking, and, if we can, seizing, that ephemeral thing called
happiness."
" Just so, duchess. Let us again seal the compact with a
kiss."
And the two beautiful women, the one so roseate, so fair, so
animated, the other so pale, so full of melancholy, united their
lips as they had united their thoughts.
" What is there new ?" asked the duchess, fixing her eyes
upon Marguerite.
" Everything is new since the last two days, is it not ?"
" Oh, I am speaking of love, not of politics. When we are
as old as your mother, Catherine, we will think cf politics, but
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
at twenty, let us think of something else. Tell me, are you,
really married ?"
" To whom ?"
" Ah, you reassure me."
" Well, Henriette, that which reassures you alarms me.
Duchess, I must be married.
" When ?"
" To-morrow."
" Oh, pauvre Marguerite ! and is it essential ?"
" Absolutely."
" Mordi ! as an acquaintance of mine says, this is very sad."
" You know some one who says mordi V asked Marguerite,
with a smile.
"Yes."
"And who is this acquaintance?"
"You ask questions instead of answering thern. Finish your
story, and then I will begin."
" In two words, it is this. The King of Navarre is in love,
and not with we ; I am not in love, and certainly not with him ;
yet we must both of us change, or seem to change, before to-
morrow."
" Well, do you change, and he will soon do the same."
" That is quite impossible, for I am less than ever inclined
to change."
" Only with respect to your husband, I hope."
" Henriette, I have a scruple."
" A scruple ! about what ?"
" Of religion. Do you make any difference between Iiugue-
nots and Catholics ?"
" In politics ?"
" Yes."
" Of course.
"And in love ?"
" Ma chere / we women are such heathens, that we admit
every kind of sect, and recognise many gods."
" In one, eh ?"
" Yes," replied the duchess, her eyes sparkling; " he who is
called Eros, Cupido, Amor. He who has k quiver on his back,
wings on his shoulders, and a bandage over his eyes. Mordi,
vive la devotion /"
" You have a peculiar method of praying; you throw stones
on the Huguenots."
MUTUAL CONFIDENCE.
Let them talk. Ah, Marguerite ! how the finest ideas, the
noblest actions, are spoilt in passing through the mouths of the
vulgar."
" The vulgar ! why, it was my brother Charles who congratu-
lated you on your exploits."
" Your brother Charles is a mighty hunter, who blows the
horn all day, which makes him very thin. I reject his compli-
ments; besides, I gave him his answer. Did you hear what I
said ?"
" No; you spoke so low."
" So much the better. I shall have more news to tell you.
Now then, finish your story, Marguerite."
" Why—why "
" WelL".
" Why, in truth," said the queen, laughing, " if the stone my
brother spoke of be a fact, I should not care to tell you my
story at all."
"Ah!" cried Henriette, "you have chosen a Huguenot.
Well, to reassure your conscience, I promise you to choose one
myself on the first opportunity."
"Ah, you have chosen a Catholic, then."
" Mordi /" replied the duchess.
" I see, I see."
"And what is this Huguenot of yours ? '
"I have not adopted him. He is nothing, and probably
never will be anything to me."
" But what sort is he? You can tell me that; you know how
curious I am about these matters."
"A poor young fellow, beautiful as Benvenuto Cellini's
Nisus,—and who took refuge in my apartment."
" Oh, oh !—of course without any suggestion on your part ?''
" Do not laugh, Henriette; at this very moment he is be-
tween life and death."
" He is ill, then ?"
" He is dangerously wounded."
" A wounded Huguenot is very disagreeable, especially in
these times ; and what have you done with this wounded Hu-
guenot, who is not, and never will be, anything to you ?"
" He is hid in my cabinet: I would save him."
" He is young, handsome, and wounded—you hide him and.
wish to save him. . He will be very ungrateful if he do not
show himself very grateful."
lo8
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" He is already, I fear, more grateful than I could wish."
" And this poor young man interests you ?"
" Only for humanity's sake."
" Ah ! humanity's precisely the virtue that undoes all us
women."
" Yes; and you see the king, the Duke d'Alen^on, my
mother, or even my husband, may at any moment enter the
apartment "
" Ay, you want me to hide your Huguenot so long as he
is ill, upon condition I send him back to you when he is
cured?"
"No," said Marguerite, " I do not look forward so far; but
if you could conceal the poor fellow—if you could preserve
the life I have saved, I should be most grateful. You are free
at the Hotel de Guise; you have no one to watch you; be-
sides, behind your chamber there is a cabinet like mine, into
which no one is entitled to enter; lend me this cabinet for my
Huguenot, and when he is cured, open the cage, and let the
bird fly away."
" There is only one difficulty, my dear; the cage is already
occupied."
"What, have _)>(?« also saved somebody ?"
" That is exactly what I answered your brother with."
" Ah, ah ! that's why you spoke so low, that I could not
hear you."
" Listen, Marguerite : the story is no less poetical and ro-
mantic than yours. After I had left you six of my guards, I
returned with the rest to the Hotel *de Guise. I was looking
at a house that was burning opposite, when I heard the voices
of men swearing, and of women crying. I went out on the
balcony, and saw, in the thickest of the fight, a complete hero
—I like heroes—an Ajax-Telamon; I stood trembling at every
blow aimed at him, and at every thrust he dealt, until, all of a
sudden, my hero disappeared."
" How ?"
" Struck down by a stone an old women threw at him.
Then, like the son of Croesus, I found my voice, and screamed,
' Help ! help !' My guards went out, lifted him up, and bore
him to my apartment."
" Alas ! I can the better understand this history, that it is
so* nearly my own."
" With this difference, that as I have served the king and the
MUTUAL CONFIDENCE.
109
Catholic religion in succouring him, I have no reason to send
M. Annibal de Coconnas away."
" His name is Annibal de Coconnas !" said Marguerite,
laughing.
" A terrible name, is it not ? Well, he who bears it is worthy
of it. Put on your mask, for we are now at the hotel."
" Why put on my mask ?"
" Because I wish to show you my hero."
" Is he handsome ?"
" He seemed so to me during the conflict. In the morning,
I must confess he did not look quite so well as at night, by the
light of the flames. But I do not think you will find great
fault with him."
"Then my protege is rejected at the Hotel de Guise ; I am
sorry for it, for that is the last place that they would look for
a Huguenot in."
" Oh, no; your Huguenot shall come ; he shall have one
corner of the cabinet, and Annibal the other."
" But when they recognise each other they will fight."
"Oh, there is no danger. M. de Coconnas has had a cut
down the face that prevents him from seeing very well; your
Huguenot is wounded in the chest; and, besides, you have
only to tell him to be silent on the subject of religion, and all
will go well."
" So be it."
" It's a bargain : and now let us go in."
" Thanks," said Marguerite, pressing her friend's hand.
"Here, madame," said the duchess, "you are again 'your
majesty;' suffer me, then, to do the honours of the H6tel de
Guise fittingly for the Queen of Navarre."
And the duchess, descending from the litter, almost bent her
knee as she aided Marguerite to alight; then pointing to the
gate guarded by two soldiers, arquebuss in hand, she followed
the queen respectfully into the hotel.
Arrived at her chamber, the duchess closed the door, and,
calling to her waiting-woman, a thorough Sicilian, said to her in
Italian, " How is M. le Comte ?"
"Better and better," replied she.
" What is he doing ?"
"At this moment, madame, he is taking some refreshment."
" It is always a good sign," said Marguerite " when the appe-
tite returns."
no
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Ah, I forgot you were a pupil of Anibroise Pare'. Leave us,
Mica."
" Why do you send her away ?"
" That she may be on the watch."
" Now," said the duchess, " will you go in to see him, or shall
I send for him here ?"
"Neither the one nor the other. I wish to see him without
his seeing me."
" What matters it ? You have your mask."
" He may recognise me by my hands, my hair, my ring."
" How cautious we are, since we've been married !"
Marguerite smiled.
" Well," said the duchess, " I see only one way."
" What is that ?"
" To look through the keyhole."
"'Take me to the door, then."
The duchess led Marguerite to a door covered with tapestry;
raising this, she applied her eye to the keyhole.
" 'Tis as you could wish; he is sitting at table, with his face
turned towards us."
The queen took her friend's place; Coconnas was, as the
duchess had said, sitting at a table well covered, and, despite
his wounds, was doing ample justice to the good things before
him.
" Ah, mon Dieu /" cried Marguerite.
" What is the matter ?" asked the duchess,
" Impossible !—no !—yes !—'tis he himself!"
" Who ?"
" Chut," said Marguerite ; " 'tis he who pursued my Hugue-
not into my apartment, and would have killed him in my arms !
Oh, Henriette, how fortunate he did not see me."
" Well, then, you have seen him in battle; is he not hand-
some."
" I do not know," said Marguerite, "for I was looking at
him he pursued."
"What is his name ?"
" You will not mention it before the count ?"
"No."
" Lerac de la Mole."
" And now what do you think of my Annibal r
" Of La Mole ?"
" Of Coconnas ?"
MUTUAL CONFIDENCE. m
" Ma foi /" said Marguerite, " I confess I think "
She stopped.
" Come, come," said the duchess, " I see you cannot forgive
his wounding your Huguenot."
"Why, so far," said Marguerite, smiling, "my Huguenot
owes him nothing; the cut he gave him on his face "
" They are quits, then, and we can reconcile them. Send me
your wounded man."
"Not now—by and by."
"When?"
" When you have found yours a fresh chamber."
" Which!"
Marguerite looked meaningly at her friend, who, after a
moment's silence, laughed.
" So be it," said the duchess ; " alliance firmer than ever.
" Friendship ever sincere !"
ll And the word, in case we need each other."
" The triple name of your triple god, ' Eros, Cupido, Amor.' "
And the two princesses separated after one more embrace,
and pressing each other's hand for the twentieth time.
CHAPTER XIII.
how there are keys that open doors they are not
meant for.
The Queen of Navarre, on her return to the Louvre, found Gil-
lonne in great excitement. Madame de Sauve had come in her
absence. She had brought a key sent her by the queen-mother.
It was the key of the chamber in which Henry was confined.
It was evident that the queen-mother wished the Be'arnais to
pass the night in Madame de Sauve's apartment.
Marguerite took the key, and turned it and turned it; she
made Gillonne repeat Madame de Sauve's every word, weighed
them, letter by letter, and at length thought she detected Cathe-
rine's plan.
She took pen and ink, and wrote :
" Instead of going to Madame de Sauve to-night, come to
the Queen of Navarre,—Marguerite."
, She rolled up the paper, put it in the pipe of the key and
112
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
ordered Gillonne, as soon as it was dark, to slip the key under
the king's door. ■
. This done, Marguerite thought of the wounded man, closed
all the doors, entered the cabinet, and, to her great surprise,
found La Mole dressed in all his clothes, torn and blood-stained
as they were.
On seeing her he strove to rise, but could not stand, and fell
back upon the sofa which had served for his bed.
" What is the matter, sir?" asked Marguerite ; "and why do
you thus disobey the orders of your physician ? I recommended
you repose, and instead of following my advice you do just the
contrary."
" Oh, madame," said Gillonne, " it is not my fault; I have
entreated M. le Comte not to commit this folly, but he declares
that nothing shall keep him any longer at the Louvre."
" Quit the Louvre !" said Marguerite, astonished. " Why, it
is impossible—you can scarcely stand ; you are pale and weak ;
your knees tremble. Only a few hours ago, the wound in your
shoulder still bled."
" Madame," said the young man, " as earnestly as I thanked
your majesty for having saved my life, as earnestly do I pray
you to suffer me to depart."
" I scarcely know what to call such a resolution," said Mar-
guerite ; " it is worse than ingratitude."
" Oh," cried La Mole, clasping his hands, " think me not un-
grateful; my gratitude will cease only with my life."
" It will not last long, then," said Marguerite, moved at these
words, the sincerity of which it was impossible to doubt; " for
your wounds will open, and you will die from loss of blood, or
you will be recognised for a Huguenot, and killed, ere you ad*
vance fifty yards in the street."
" I must, nevertheless, quit the Louvre," murmured La
Mole.
" Must," returned Marguerite, fixing her full speaking gaze
upon him ; " ah, yes : forgive me, I understand; doubtless,
there is one who anxiously awaits you. I appreciate the feeling,
and reproach myself for not having before thought of it; I
should have attended to your mind as well as to your body."
" Madame," said La Mole, " you are mistaken—I am well
nigh alone in the world, and altogether so in Paris. My pur-
suer is the first man I have spoken to in this city ; your majesty
the first lady who has addressed me."
THE KEYS.
"Theft," said Marguerite, "why would you go ?"
" Because," replied La Mole, " last night you had no rest, and
that to-night "
Margaret blushed.
" Gillonne," said she, " it is time to take that key to the King
of Navarre."
Gillonne smiled, and left the room.
"But," continued Marguerite, "if you are alone, without
friends, what will you do ?"
" Madame, I soon shall have friends, for whilst I was pursued,
I saw the form of my mother guiding me to the Louvre, and I
vowed, if I were spared, to abjure. Heaven has done more
than save my life—it has sent me one of its angels to make life
dear to me."
" But you cannot walk; you will faint before you have gone
a hundred yards."
" Madame, I have tried to walk in the cabinet; I do so
slowly, it is true, but once outside the Louvre, I will take my
chance."
Marguerite leaned her head on her hand, and reflected for an
instant.
"And the King of Navarre," said she, emphatically, " you
do not speak of him ? In changing your religion, have you also
changed your desire to enter his service ?"
" Madame," returned La Mole, " I know that his majesty
runs a great risk at present, and that all your influence will
scarce suffice to save him."
"What!" said Marguerite, " how know you that ?"
" Madame," returned La Mole, after some hesitation, " one
can hear everything in this cabinet."
"'Tis true," said Marguerite to herself; "M. de Gui-se told
me so before."
" Well," added she, aloud, " what have you heard ?"
" In the first place, the conversation between your majesty
and your brother."
" With Frangois ?" said Marguerite.
" With the Duke d'Alengon ; and since your departure, that
of Gillonne and Madame de Sauve."
"And it is these two conversations -?"
" Yes, madame ; married scarcely a week, you love your
husband ; to-night he will come, in his turn, in the same way
that the Duke d'Alengon and Madame de Sauve have come ■,
S
MARGUERITE DE VALO/S.
he will discourse with you of his affairs: I do not wish to
hear; I might be indiscreet—I will give myself no chance of
being so."
At the last words, and their manner, Marguerite compre-
hended all.
" Ah !" said she, "you have heard everything that has been
said in this chamber ?"
"Yes, madatr.e."
These words were uttered in a sigh.
" And you wish to depart to-night, to avoid hearing any
more ?"
" This moment, if it please your maj esty,"
" Poor fellow !" said Marguerite, with an accent of tender
pity.
Astonished at so gentle an apostrophe, when he expected an
abrupt reply, La Mole lifted his head timidly—his eyes encoun-
tered those of,the queen, and remained immovable before her
penetrating glance.
" You are, then, incapable of keeping a secret, M. de la Mole?"
said the queen, who, seated in a large chair, could watch La
Mole's face whilst her own remained in the shadow.
"Madame," said La Mole, '■ I distrust myself, andthehappi-
r.ess of another gives me pain."
"The happiness of whom? Ah, yes—of the King of
Navarre ! Poor Henry !"
" You see," cried La Mole, passionately, "he is happy."
"Happy?"
"Yes, for your majesty pities him."
Marguerite played with the golden tassels of her almspurse
" You will not, then, see the King of Navarre—you are quite
resolved ?"
" I fear I should be troublesome to his majesty at present."
" But the Duke d'Alengon, my brother ?"
" Oh, no !" cried La Mole, " the Duke d'Alencon even still
less than the King of Navarre."
" Why so ?" asked Marguerite.
" Because, although I am already too bad a Huguenot to be
a faithful servant of the King of Navarre, I am not a sufficiently
good Catholic to be friends with the Duke d'Alengon and M.
de Guise."
Marguerite cast down her eyes ; that which La Mole had said>
struck to her very heart.
THE KEYS.
At this instant Gillonne returned ; Marguerite, with a look,
interrogated her, and Gillonne, in the same manner, answered
in the affirmative; the King of Navarre had received the
key.
Marguerite turned her eyes towards La Mole, who stood, his
head drooping on his breast, sad, pale, grief-laden, as one suffer-
ing alike in mind and in body.
" M. de la Mole is so proud," said she, " that I hesitate to
make him an offer I fear he will repel."
La Mole rose, and advanced a step towards Marguerite, but
a feeling of faintness came over him, and he caught at a table
to save himself from falling.
" You see, monsieur," cried Marguerite, supporting him in
her arms, " that I am still necessary to you."
" Ob, yes !" murmured La Mole, " as the air I breathe—as
the light of heaven."
At this moment three knocks were heard at the outer door.
" Do you hear, madame ?" cried Gillonne, alarmed.
" Already !" exclaimed Marguerite.
" Shall I open ?"
" Wait! it is the King of Navarre, perhaps."
" Oh, madame !" cried La Mole, recalled to himself by these
words, which the queen hoped had been heard by Gillonne
alone, " I implore—I entreat you, let me depart. Oh ! you do
not answer. I will tell you all, and then you will drive me away,
1 h°Pe" . . '
" Be silent," said Marguerite, who found an indescribable
charm in the reproaches of the young man ; " be silent."
" Madame," replied La Mole, who did not find that anger he
expected in the voice of the queen, " madame, I tell you again,
I hear everything from this cabinet. Oh, do not make me
perish by tortures more cruel than the executioner could
inflict "
" Silence ! silence !" said Marguerite.
" Oh, you are merciless ! you will not understand me. Know,
then, that I "
" Silence ! I tell you," said Marguerite, placing on his mouth
her white and perfumed hand, which he seized, and pressed
eagerly to his lips.
" But " murmured he.
• Be silent, child !—who is this rebel that refuses to obey his
queen?"
8—2
Ii6 MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
Then, hastily quitting the cabinet, she pressed her hand to
her heart, as if to control it.
" And now, open, Gillonne."
Gillonne left the apartment, and an instant after the fine, in-
tellectual, but at present somewhat anxious countenance of the
King of Navarre appeared.
" You have sent for me, madame ?"
" Yes, sir. Your majesty received my letter?"
"And not without some surprise, I confess," said Henry,
looking round with distrust, which, however, almost instantly
vanished from his mind.
" And not without disquiet," added Marguerite.
" I confess it! But still, surrounded as I am by deadly
enemies, by friends still more dangerous, perhaps, than my open
foes, I recollected that one evening I had seen a noble gene-
rosity radiant in your eyes—'twas the night of our marriage:
that one other evening I had seen high courage glance from
them—'twas yesterday, the day fixed for my death."
" Well, monsieur!" said Marguerite, smiling, whilst Henry
seemed striving to read her heart.
" Well, madame," returned the king, " thinking of these things,
I said to myself, when I read your letter: Without friends, for
he is a disarmed prisoner, the King of Navarre has but one
means of dying nobly, of dying a death that will be recorded
in history. It is to die betrayed by his wife; and I am
come "
" Sir," replied Marguerite, " you will change your tone when
you learn that all this is the work of a woman who loves you,
and whom you love."
Henry started back at these words, and his piercing grey eyes
were fixed on the queen with earnest curiosity.
" Oh, reassure yourself, sir," said the queen, smiling; "I am
not that person."
" But, madame," said Henry, "you sent me this key, and this
is your writing."
" It is my writing, I confess; but the key is a different matter:
content you with knowing that it has passed through the hands
of four women before it reached you."
" Of four women ?"
"Yes," said Marguerite; "those of Queen Catherine, Madame
de Sauve, Gillonne, and myself."
Henry pondered over this enigma.
THE KEYS.
"Let us speak plainly," said Marguerite. " Report says your
majesty has consented to abjure. Is that true ?"
" Report is somewhat premature; I have not yet con-
sented."
" But your mind is made up ?"
" That is to say, I am deliberating. At twenty, and almost
a king, there are many things that are well worth a mass."
" Life, for instance !"
Henry smiled.
"You do not tell me all" said the queen,
" I have reservations for my allies; and you know we are but
allies as yet; if indeed, you were both my ally and——"
" And your wife, sir ?"
" Ma foi ! yes, and my wife "
" What then ?"
" Why, then, it might be different, and I perhaps might
resolve to remain king of the Huguenots, as they call me. But,
as it is, I must be content to live."
Marguerite looked at her husband in so peculiar a manner,
that it would have awakened suspicion in a less acute mind
than his.
"And are you quite sure of retaining even that?" asked she.
"Why, almostj but, you know, in this world, nothing is
certain."
"Truly, your majesty shows such moderation, such disin-
terestedness, that after having renounced your crown, your
religion, you may be expected to satisfy the hopes of some
people, and renounce your alliance with a daughter of France !"
There was a significance in these words that sent a thrill
through Henry's whole frame : repressing the emotion, he said :
" Recollect, madame, that at this moment I am not my own
master: I shall therefore do what the King of France orders
me. As to myself, were I consulted the least in the world on
this question, affecting as it does my throne, my honour, and
my life, rather than build my future hopes on this- forced
marriage of ours, I would enter a cloister or turn game-
keeper."
This calm resignation, this renunciation of the world, alarmed
Marguerite. She thought, perhaps this rupture of the marriage
had been arranged between Charles IX., Catherine, and her
husband, and the young queen felt her ambition attacked.
" Your majesty," said Marguerite, with a sort of disdainful
ii8
MARGUERITE DE VALOTS.
raillery, " has no confidence in the star that shines over the
head of every king !" ,
" Ah/' said Henry, " I cannot see mine; it is hidden by the
storm that now threatens me !"
" And suppose the breath of a woman were to dispel this
threatened tempest, and make the star reappear, brilliant as
ever ?"
"'Twere difficult."
" Do you deny the existence of this woman ?"
"No, I deny her power."
" You mean her will."
" I said her power, and I repeat, her power. A woman is
only powerful when love and interest are combined within her
in equal degrees: if either sentiment predominates, she is, like
Achilles, vulnerable; and, for the woman in question, if I
mistake not, I cannot rely on her love."
Marguerite made no reply.
" Listen," said Henry. " At the last stroke of the bell of
St.-Germain-1'Auxerrois, you most likely thought of regaining
your liberty, sacrificed to the interests of your party. For
myself, I thought of saving my life : that was the essential
point. We lose Navarre, indeed; but what is that compared
with your being enabled to speak aloud in your chamber, which
you dared not do when you had some one listening to you in
yonder cabinet?"
Marguerite could not refrain from smiling. The king rose
and prepared to seek his own apartment; for it was eleven, and
everybody at the Louvre was, or seemed to be, asleep.
Henry advanced towards the door, then, as if suddenly recol-
lecting the motive of his visit:
" Apropos, madame !" said he. " Had you not something to
communicate to me ? or did you desire to give me an oppor-
tunity of thanking you for having saved my life ? You came,
I confess, like a goddess of antiquity, just in time to save
me."
"What!" exclaimed Marguerite, seizing her husband's arm ;
" do you not see that nothing is saved, neither your liberty,
your crown, nor your life ? Infatuated Henry ! Did you, then,
see nothing in my letter but an amorous rendezvous ?"
" I confess, madame," said Henry, all astonishment; " I
confess "
Marguerite shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.
THE KEYS.
119
At this instant a strange sound .was heard, like a sharp
scratching at the secret door.
Marguerite led the king thither.
" Listen," said she.
"The queen-mother is leaving her apartments," said a trern-
bling voice outside, which Henry instantly recognised as that of
Madame de Sauve.
"Where is she going?" asked Marguerite.
"She is coming to your majesty."
And then the rustling of silk showed that Madame de Sauve
was hastening rapidly away.
" Oh, oh !" said Henry.
" I was sure of this," said Marguerite.
" And I," replied Henry, " feared it, as this will prove."
And half opening his doublet of black velvet, he showed the
queen that he had beneath it a shirt of mail, and a long Milan
poniard, which instantly glittered in his hand.
"They are needless," cried Marguerite. "Quick, quick,
sir! conceal that dagger; 'tis the queen-mother, indeed, but
the queen-mother only."
" Yet "
"Silence !—I hear her."
And she whispered something in Henry's ear, who instantly
hid himself behind the curtains of the bed.
Marguerite sprang into the cabinet, where La Mole awaited
her, and pressing his hand in t:,e darkness—"Silence," said
she, approaching her lips so near that he felt her breath ;
" silence 1"
Then, returning to her chamber, she tore off her head-dress,
cut the lace of her dress with her poniard, and sprang into bed.
It was time—the key turned in the lock. Catherine had a key
for every door in the Louvre.
" Who is there ?" cried Marguerite, as Catherine placed on
guard at the door the four gentlemen by whom she was attended.
And, as if frightened by this intrusion into her chamber,
Marguerite sprang out of bed in a.white dressing-gown, and
then, seeming to recognise Catherine, came to kiss her hand
with so well feigned a surprise that the wily Florentine herself
was deceived.
120
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHAPTER XIV.
catherine and marguerite.
The queen-mother surveyed the chamber with eager and curious
eyes; but the sight of Marguerite's velvet slippers at the foot of
the bed, her vestments thrown negligently upon the chairs,
joined to the well-feigned drowsiness with which she endea-
voured to open her eyes, convinced Catherine that she had
really roused her daughter from her slumbers.
Smiling, therefore, the self-complacent smile of one whose
plan of attack has been successful, she drew a chair towards
her, saying:
" Let us sit down, my child, and have a little talk together."
" I am all attention, madame."
" It is time," said Catherine, shutting her eyes and speaking
with that slowness peculiar to persons of great reflection or
equal dissimulation—" it is time, I say, my daughter, that you
should know how ardently your brother and myself desire to
see you happy."
This was a somewhat alarming exordium for those who were
acquainted with Catherine's real disposition.
" What can she be about to say?" thought Marguerite.
" Certainly," continued the Florentine, " in marrying you, we
fulfilled one of those acts of policy frequently peremptorily
demanded for the interest of the kingdom and those who
govern it; but I must honestly confess to you, my poor child,
that we had no expectation that the indifference manifested by
the King of Navarre for one so young, so lovely and fascinating
as yourself, would have been so obstinately persisted in."
Marguerite arose, and folding her robe de chambre- around
her, curtseyed with ceremonious respect to her mother.
" I have heard to-night only (otherwise I should have paid
you an earlier visit) that your husband is far from showing you
those attentions you have a right to claim, not merely as a
beautiful woman, but as a princess of France."
Marguerite gently sighed, and Catherine, encouraged by this
mute approval, proceeded :
" I am even assured the King of Navarre has a liaison with
one of my maids of honour, and that he openly avows his dis-
graceful passion for her. Now, that he should despise the
affection of the superior being we have bestowed upon him is
CATHERINE AND MARGUERITE.
121
unfortunately one of those evils which, powerful as we are, we
have no means of remedying; although the meanest gentleman
of our court would quickly demand satisfaction for so great an
insult."
Marguerite's eyes sought the ground. Her mother con-
tinued:
" For some time past, my daughter, I have been well assured
by your red and swollen eyes, as well as the bitterness of your
sallies against Madame de Sauve, that, try as you would, your
poor wounded heart is not content to bleed and break in silent
sorrow."
Marguerite started—a slight movement shook the curtains of
the bed, but, fortunately, it passed unperceived by Catherine.
" Knowing all this, my beloved child," said she, with in-
creased gentleness and affection, " it follows, as a matter of
course, that a tender parent would seek to apply healing balm
to the wound your heart has received. Have not those, there-
fore, who, hoping to secure your happiness, dictated your
marriage, but who now, to their deep regret, discover that the
obscure coarse-minded boor on whom they bestowed your hand
neglects your beauty and despises your charms, and awaits but
the first favourable chance of separating himself from our family,
and thrusting you from his house—have not, I ask you, those
same kind and watchful friends the right of securing your
interests by entirely dividing them from his, so that your future
prospects may offer a vista of greatness better suited to your
illustrious descent and surpassing merits ?"
" I beseech you, madame,7' replied Marguerite, " to pardon
my presumption, in venturing to remark (after observations so
replete with maternal love, and so calculated to fill me with joy
and pride, as those you have just uttered), that after all your
majesty has so ably advanced, the King of Navarre is my hus-
band."
Catherine started with rage—then drawing closer to Mar-
guerite she said: " He your husband ? Do the few words
pronounced over you by a priest warrant your styling him your
husband? Ah ! my child ! such a state of things is a desecra-
tion, not a consecration of the marriage ceremony. Were you
Madame de Sauve, indeed, you might make that assertion.
But, wholly contrary to our expectations, directly we bestowed
your hand on Henry of Navarre, he seemed more than in-
different towards you ; permitting you, indeed, to hold the
122
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S,
empty title of wife, while another engrossed his time and affec-
tions. Come with me. At this very moment, even," said
Catherine, raising her voice: " this key opens the door of
Madame de Sauve's apartment—accompany me thither, and
you will see "
" Oh, not so loud, madame !—not so loud, I beseech you !"
said Marguerite ; " for not only are you mistaken, but "
" But, what ?"
" I fear you will awaken my husband !"
As she said these words, Marguerite gracefully arose, her
white dress fluttering loosely around her, while the large open
sleeves displayed her matchless hand and arm ; carrying one of
the ro'se-coloured tapers towards the bed, she gently drew back
the curtain, and smiling significantly at her mother, pointed to
the King of Navarre, who, stretched in easy negligence upon
the couch, seemed buried in profound repose.
Pale and wonder-stricken, her body thrown back as though
to avoid some abyss that had opened at her feet, Catherine
uttered not a cry, but a kind of savage yell.
"You perceive, madame," said Marguerite, "you were mis-
informed."
Catherine alternately gazed from her daughter to the sleeping
king, and again scrutinised the features of Marguerite; but the
countenance of the latter bore unshrinkingly the searching
glances of the queen-mother, who bit her thin lips with im-
potent rage at finding herself thus baffled. After permitting
Catherine to contemplate a picture as hateful to her as the head
of Medusa, Marguerite let fall the curtain, and walking on tip-
toe back to her chair, resumed her place beside Catherine,
saying, " What is your opinion at present, madame ?"
The Florentine again fixed her piercing looks on Marguerite,
as though she would read her very thoughts; but baffled and
disconcerted by the calm placidity of her daughter's face, she
rose in deep and concentrated fury, and merely replying, " I
have no further opinion than that already expressed !" hastened
precipitately from the apartment.
No sooner had the sound of her departing footsteps died
away in the vast corridor, than the bed-curtains opened a second
time, and Henry, with sparkling eye, trembling hand, and
panting breath, sprung to Marguerite's feet; he had hastily
thrown off his velvet pourpoint, and appeared merely in his
nether garments and his coat of mail. Amid all her alarm ancl
CATHERINE AND MARGUERITE.
123
agitation, Marguerite could not restrain a hearty laugh at the
singular costume adopted by a recently made husband to pay a
visit to his bride's chamber; while, at the same time, she kindly
and warmly pressed the hand of him she had so ably assisted.
" Ah, madame ! ah, Marguerite !" exclaimed the king, " how
shall I ever repay your goodness ?"
" Sir !" replied Marguerite, gently retreating from the warmth
of his gratitude, " have you forgotten that an individual to whom
you owe your life is at this moment in dire uneasiness on your
account ? Madame de Sauve," added she, in a lower tone,
"has forgotten her jealousy in sending you to me; and to that
sacrifice she may probably have to add her life, for no one
knows better than yourself how terrible is the anger of my
mother."
Henry shuddered; and rising, was about to quit the room.
"Upon second thoughts," said Marguerite, "I see no cause
for alarm. The key was given to you without any directions,
and you will be considered as having given me the preference
to-night."
"And so I do, Marguerite ! Consent but to forget "
" Not so loud !—not so loud, sir !" replied the queen, em-
ploying the same words she had a few minutes before used to
her mother : "any one in the adjoining cabinet can hear you.
I must beg of you to use a lower tone."
" Oh !" said Henry, half smiling, half gloomily, " that's true !
I forgot that I was probably not the person with whom the in-
teresting events of to-day were to close ! This cabinet "
" Let me beg of your majesty to enter there," said Margue-
rite ; " for I am desirous of having the honour of presenting to
you a brave gentleman, wounded during the massacre, "while
endeavouring to make his way to the Louvre, for the purpose
of apprising your majesty of the danger with which you were
threatened."
The queen advanced towards the door, followed by Henry.
She opened it, and the king was thunderstruck at beholding a
man in this cabinet, fated to reveal such continued surprises.
But, however great the king's astonishment, that of La Mole,
at thus unexpectedly finding himself in the presence of Henry
of Navarre, was still greater. The king cast an ironical glance
on Marguerite, who bore it without flinching.
" Sir," said she, " I am in dread that this gentleman may be
murdered even here, in the sanctuary of my apartments ; he is
124
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
devoted to the service of your majesty, and for that reason I
commend him to your royal protection."
" Sir," continued the young man, " I am the Count Lerac
de la Mole; the same your majesty expected, who was so
warmly recommended to you by M. de Teiigny, who was killed
by my side."
" Indeed !" replied Henry ; " is it so, sir ? I remember the
queen gave me a letter from that honourable gentleman ; but,
methinks, if you be the Count de la Mole, you should also be
the bearer of a letter from the Governor of Languedoc."
" Your majesty is right: such a paper was entrusted to me,
with earnest recommendation to deliver it into your royal hands
as soon as possible."
" And wherefore did you delay ?"
" Sir, I was at the Louvre yesterday evening, for that pur-
pose; but your majesty'was too much occupied to give me
audience."
" True !" answered the king; " but in that case why not send
the letter to me ?"
" Because M. d'Auriac had strictly charged me to give it into
no other hands than those of your majesty, since it contained,
he said, information so important that he feared to entrust it to
any ordinary messenger."
" The contents are, indeed, of a serious nature," said the
king, when he had received and perused the letter ; " advising
my instant withdrawal from the court of France, and retirement
to Beam. M. d'Auriac, although a Catholic, was always a
staunch friend of mine; and it is possible, that acting as
governor of a province, he got scent of what was in the wind
here: Venlfe-samt-gris! monsieur! why was not this letter
given to me three days ago, instead of now ?"
" Because, as I before assured your majesty, that using all
the speed and diligence in my power, it was wholly impossible
to arrive before yesterday."
" That is very unfortunate," murmured the king; " for had
you done so, we should at this time have been in security,
either at Rochelle, or in some broad plain surrounded by two
or three thousand trusty horsemen."
" Sir," said Marguerite, in an undertone, " what is done
is done, and instead of losing your time in useless recrimina-
tion, it is expedient for you to make the best arrangement you
pan for the future."
CATHERINE AND MARGUERITE. 125
"Then,"replied Henry, with his usual glance of interrogation,
" I am to suppose that, in my place, you would not despair ?"
" Certainly not; I should consider myself as playing a game
of three points, of which I had lost only the first."
" Ah, madame," whispered Henry, " if I durst but hope that
you would go partners with me in the game, I should indeed
flatter myself with hopes of success."
"Had I intended to have sided with your adversaries/'
replied Marguerite, " I should scarcely have delayed thus
long in avowing my intentions."
" True !" replied Henry, " and I am very ungrateful; but,
as you say, the past may still be repaired. But, madame,"
cpntinued he, attentively observing La Mole, "this gentleman
cannot remain here without causing you considerable incon-
venience, and being himself subject to very unpleasant surprises.
What will you do with him ?"
" Does your majesty consider there will be any difficulty in
getting him out of the Louvre?—for I am precisely of your
opinion as regards his staying."
" I fear it will be both difficult and dangerous to attempt
such a thing as procuring egress for the young man."
"Then, could not your majesty find accommodation for
M. de la Mole in your own apartments ?"
" Alas, madame ! you speak as though I were still king of
the Huguenots, and had subjects to command. You are aware
that I am half converted to the Catholic faith."
Any one but Marguerite would have promptly answered :
" And he also is a Catholic." But the queen wished Henry
himself to ask her to do the very thing she was desirous of
effecting; while La Mole, perceiving the hesitation of his pro-
tectress, and not knowing what to say or do in so dangerous a
court as was that of France, remained perfectly silent.
" But what is this the governor says in his letter ?" said
Henfy, again casting his eyes over the missive he held in his
hand. " He states that your mother was a Catholic, and from
that circumstance originates the interest he felt in you."
" And what were you telling me, M. le Comte, respecting a
vow you had formed to change your religion ? I confess my
recollection on the subject is somewhat confused. Have the
goodness to assist me, M. de la Mole. Did not your conver-
sation refer to something of the nature his majesty appears to
desire ?"
126
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Alas ! madame, what I did say was so coldly received by
your majesty, that I had not the courage to repeat it."
"Simply, because it in no way concerned me," answered
Marguerite. " But explain yourself to the king—make fully
known what you were desirous of stating to me."
"What is the vow you referred to?" asked the king. "Let
me hear."
" Sir," said La Mole, " when pursued by assassins, myself
unarmed, and almost expiring widi pain and agony from my
wounds, I fancied I beheld the spirit of my mother, holding a
cross in her hands, and guiding me towards the Louvre.
Under this impression, I solemnly vowed that if my life were
preserved, I would adopt the religion of my mother, who had
been permitted to leave her grave to direct me to a place'of
safety during that horrible night. Heaven conducted me
hither, where I hold myself doubly secure, under the protection
of a princess of France and of the King .of Navarre; and in
deep gratitude for the miraculous preservation vouchsafed to
me, I am ready to fulfil my vow, and become a Catholic."
Henry frowned. Sceptic as he was, he could well understand
a change of religion from motives of interest; but, as a matter
of faith and conscience, it was wholly beyond his comprehen-
sion.
"It is all over!" thought Marguerite; "the king evidently
will have nothing to do with my protege."
La Mole still remained a mute spectator of the rest of a
scene, in which he felt, without being able to define why, that
he played but a ridiculous part. Marguerite's tact and woman's
wit came again, happily, to his relief and rescue.
"Sir," said she, "we both forget that the poor wounded
gentleman has need of repose. For myself, I am half asleep.
See !—he is growing pale, as though he would faint."
La Mole did indeed turn pale; but it was at Marguerite's
last words, which he had interpreted according to his own
ideas.
" Well, madame," answered Henry, " nothing can be easier
than for you and I to retire, and leave M. de la Mole to take
the repose he so much needs."
The young man fixed a supplicating look on Marguerite, and,
spite of the august presence in which he stood, sunk upon a
chair, overcome with fatigue and pain. Marguerite fully com-
prehended the passionate love contained in that glance, the
CATHERINE AND MARGUERITE.
utter despair, in the prostration of strength which took from his
limbs the power of supporting him.
" Sir," said she, " your majesty is bound to confer on this
young man, who perilled his life for his king, since it was while
coming hither to acquaint you with the death of the admiral
and Teligny he received his wounds—is bound, I repeat, to
confer on him an honour, for which he will be ever grateful."
"What is it, madame ?" asked Henry. "Command me—I
am ready to do whatever you dictate."
"Tis to permit M. de la Mole to repose to-night at your
majesty's feet, while you, sir, can sleep on this couch. With
the permission of my august spouse," added Marguerite, smil-
ing, " I will summon Gillonne, and return to bed; for I can
assure you I am not the least wearied of us three."
Henry had shrewd sense, and a quick perception of things :
friends and enemies subsequently found fault with him for pos-
sessirig too much of both. He fully admitted that she who
thus banished him from the nuptial bed was well justified in so
doing by the indifference he had himself manifested towards
her—and then, too, she had just repaid this indifference by
saving his life; he therefore did not allow his wounded self-
love to dictate his answer, but merely replied :
" If, madame, M. de la Mole were capable of coming to my
apartments, I would give him up my own bed."
"Nay," said Marguerite, "I scarcely deem that either you
or he would be in safety there to-night, and prudence directs
that your majesty should remain here until the morning."
Then, without awaiting any further reply from the king, she
summoned Gillonne, and bade her prepare the necessary
cushions for the king, and to arrange a bed at the king's feet
for M. de la Mole, who appeared so happy and contented with
the honour done him, as almost to forget his wounds.
Then Marguerite, curtseying low to the king, passed into the
adjoining chamber, the door of which was well furnished with
bolts, and threw herself on the bed.
" One thing is certain," said Marguerite, mentally, " that, to-
morrow, M. de la Mole must have a protector at the Louvre ;
and he who, to-night, sees and hears nothing, may change his
mind to-morrow."
Then, calling Gillonne, she said in a whisper, " Gillonne, you
must contrive to bring my brother D'Alencon here to-morrow
morning before eight o'clock."
MARGUERITE DE PALOIS.
The loud peal of the Louvre clock chimed the second hotir
after midnight.
La Mole, after a short parley with the king on political sub-
jects, was left to his own reflections ; for Henry fell asleep in
the midst of one of his own speeches, and snored as lustily as
though he had been reposing on his own leathern couch , in
Beam.
La Mole might also have sunk into the arms of sleep, but
his ideas were continually disturbed and disarranged by his
proximity to Marguerite, who, a prey to restless thoughts,
turned and re-turned on her pillow ; while the mind of La Mole
became occupied in sympathetic surprise as to what could
trouble the slumbers of one so highly favoured both by nature
and fortune.
" He is very young and timid," murmured the wakeful queen ;
" but his eyes are rich with manly expression, and his form is
one of nobleness and beauty; 'twere pity he should turn out
otherwise than brave and loyal. Well, well, 'tis useless specu-
lating upon uncertain chances : the affair has begun well, let us
hope it will finish so ; and now to commend myself to the triple
deity to whom that madcap Henriette pays homage, and court
its aid to procure a visit from the drowsy god."
And as morning broke, Marguerite fell asleep, murmuring,
"Eros, Cupido, Amor?
CHAPTER XV.
what woman wills, heaven wills also.
Marguerite was right. The rage which swelled Catherine's
bosom at sight of an expedient whose aim she perceived,
although powerless to prevent its effects, required some person
on whom she could freely vent it : instead, therefore, of retir-
ing to her own aoartment, the queen mother proceeded to those
of her lady-in-waiting.
Madame de Sauve was expecting two visits,—one she hoped
to receive from Henry, and the other she feared was in store
for her from the queen-mother. Reclining on her bed only
partially undressed, while Dariole kept watch in the antecham-
ber, she heard a key turn in the lock, followed by a slow,
measured tread, the heaviness of which was prevented from
WHAT WOMAN WILLS, HEAVEN WILLS ALSO. 12$
reaching her ear through the thickness of the rich carpets over
which the newcomer passed; but she felt quite sure it was not
the light, eager footstep of Henry; and guessing that Dariole
had been prevented from coming to warn her of the visitant
who so late intruded on her repose, she lay with beating heart
and listening ear, awaiting the nearer approach of friend or foe,
as it might turn out.
The curtain which covered the doorway was lifted aside, and
Catherine de Medicis appeared. She seemed calm ; but Ma-
dame de Sauve, accustomed for two years to the study of her
crafty and deceitful nature, well knew what fatal designs, as
well as bitter thoughts of cruel vengeance, might be concealed
beneath that cold imperturbable tranquillity of look and
manner.
At sight of Catherine, Madame de Sauve was about to spring
from her bed, but Catherine signed to her to remain where
she was ; and thus her unfortunate victim was compelled to
remain as though spell-bound, vainly endeavouring to collect
all her strength to endure the storm she felt was breaking over
her.
" Did you convey the key to the King of Navarre ?" inquired
Catherine, in a voice which differed not from her usual tone;
the only change was in her lips, which looked paler and paler
each instant.
" I did, madame," answered Charlotte, in a voice that vainly
sought to imitate the firm, assured manner of Catherine.
"And have you seen him ?"
" No, madame; but I expect him ; and when I heard the
sound of a key in the lock, I fully concluded it was he."
This reply, which indicated either a blind confidence or pro-
found dissimulation on the part of Madame de Sauve, enraged
Catherine beyond all power of concealment; she literally shook
with passion, and clenching her small plump hand, she said,
with a malignant smile :
"'Tis strange, methinks, you should expect the King of Na-
varre in your apartments, when you perfectly well know how
unlikely it is he should be here!"
"How, madame?"
" Yes, I repeat, you are fully aware that this night the King
of Navarre neither could nor would visit you."
"Nothing but death would prevent him, I feel confident,"
replied Charlotte, urged to a still more determined dissimula-
9
Marguerite de valoIs.
tion by the certainty of how bitterly she should have to pay
for her deceit, were it discovered.
" But did you not write to the king, my pretty Carlotta?"
inquired Catherine, with the same cruel and unnatural smile.
"No, madame," answered Charlotte, with well-assumed
naivete, " I cannot recollect receiving your majesty's com-
mands- to do so."
A short silence followed, during which Catherine continued
to gaze on Madame de Sauve as the serpent regards the bird
it wishes to fascinate.
"You think yourself a beauty and a skilful manoeuvrer, do
you not ?" asked Catherine.
"No, indeed, madame," answered Charlotte; "I only re-
member that there have been times when your majesty has
been graciously pleased to commend both my personal attrac-
tions and address."
" Well, then," said Catherine, growing eager and animated,
" whatever I may have said or thought, I now declare that
you are but a hideous dolt, when compared to my daughter
Margot."
" Oh, madame," replied Charlotte, " that is a fact I seek not
to deny—least of all in your presence."
"It follows, then, naturally enough, that the King of Navarre
prefers my daughter to you; a circumstance, I presume, riot to
your wishes, and certainly not what we agreed should be the
case."
" Alas ! madame," cried Charlotte, bursting into a torrent
of tears which now flowed from no feigned source, " if it be
so, I can but say I am very unfortunate !"
" Then take my royal word for its truth," repeated Catherine,
again fixing her reptile-like eye upon her victim, till her words
seemed to pierce her heart like a two-edged dagger.
" But what reason has your majesty for coming to this con-
elusion ?"
"Proceed to the apartments oi the Queen of Navarre, you
incredulous simpleton! and you will find your lover there.
How like you that ? Does it excite your jealousy ?"
" Me jealous ?" said Madame de Sauve, recalling her fast-
failing strength and courage.
" Yes, you ! Tell me how you mean to act. I have acuri-
osity to see how a Frenchwoman demonstrates that passion."
"Nay," said Madame de Sauve, " why should your majesty
WHAT WOMAN WILLS, HEAVEN WILLS ALSO. 131
suppose I am wounded in any other feeling than my vanity,
since all the interest I feel in the King of Navarre arises from
my wish to be of service to your majesty."
Catherine looked at her with a penetrating glance.
" You may be speaking the truth," said she. "Am I, then,
to consider you as wholly devoted to my service ?''
" Command me, madame, and judge."
"Well, then, Carlotta, if you are really sincere in your
professions and protestations, you must (to serve me, under-
stand) affect the utmost affection for the King of Navarre,
and, above all, a violent jealousy. Pretend to be jealous as
an Italian."
" And in what manner, madame, do the Italian females
evince their jealousy ?"
" I will instruct you," replied Catherine ; who, after remain-
ing some moments as though striving to keep down some
powerful emotion, quitted the apartment slowly and noiselessly
as she had entered it.
Thankful to be freed from the oppressive gaze of eyes that
seemed to expand and dilate like those of the cat or panther,
Charlotte permitted her to depart without attempting to utter
a word ; nor did she breathe freely till Dariole came to tell
her that the terrible visitant had entirely disappeared. She
then bade the waiting-maid to bring an armchair beside her bed
and pass the night, fearing, as she said, to be left alone. Da-
riole obeyed; but, despite the company of her faithful attendant,
despite the bright light from a lamp illumined by her orders,
Madame de Sauve remained in trembling expectation of
Catherine's return, nor closed her eyes till the dawn of day.
Notwithstanding the late hour at which Marguerite's slum-
bers had commenced, she awoke at the first sound of the
hunting-horns and dogs, and instantly rising, dressed herself
in a neglige too decided to escape observation. She then
summoned her maids, and caused the ordinary attendants of
the King of Navarre to be shown into an antechamber adjoin-
ing that in which he had passed the night. Then, opening
the door of the chamber which contained both Henry and De
la Mole, she cast an affectionate glance on the latter, and said
to her husband:
" It is not sufficient, sir, to have persuaded my royal mother
that matters are different from what they seem ; you must also
impress upon your whole court the most perfect belief in the
9—2
132
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
good understanding existing between us. But make yourself
quite easy," added she, laughing, " and remember my words,
rendered the more impressive by the circumstances under which
I utter them, to-day is the very last time your majesty will be
subjected to so severe a trial."
Henry smiled, and desired that the officers of his suite should
be admitted; but, at the very moment of returning their salu-
tation, he feigned suddenly to recollect having left his mantle
on the queen's bed, begged their excuse for receiving them ere
fully dressed ; then, taking his mantle from the hands of Mar-
guerite, who stood blushing by his side, he clasped it on his
shoulder. Next, turning to his gentlemen, he carelessly inquired
what was stirring abroad.
Marguerite's quick eye readily caught the expression of utter
astonishment impressed on every countenance at the sight of
the excellent terms on which herself and the King of Navarre
were; and, ere they had recovered from it, an attendant enter-
ing, announced the arrival of the Duke d'Alengon, with three or
four officers of his suite.
Gillonne had required no other means to draw him thither,
than the information of the king having passed the night in the
queen's apartments; and so hurried was the manner of Frangois
in entering, that he narrowly escaped knocking against every
person he met in his way. His first glance was directed to
Henry; his next, to Marguerite. The former replied to him by
a courteous salutation, while the calm, composed features of
Marguerite exhibited the utmost serenity and happiness.
Again the sharp scrutiny of the duke travelled round the
chamber, and he quickly observed the two pillows placed at
the head of the bed, the derangement of its tapestried cover-
ings, and the king's plumed hat carelessly thrown on a chair
beside it.
At this sight his colour forsook his cheeks, but quickly re-
covering himself, he said :
" Does my royal brother Henry join this morning with the
king in his game of tennis ?"
" Does his majesty do me the honour to select me as his
partner ?" inquired Henry, " or is it only a little attention on
your own part, my kind brother-in-law ?"
" His majesty has not so said, certainly," replied the duke,
somewhat embarrassed ; " but. as you play with him so habi-
tually, I considered "
WHAT WOMAN WILLS, HEAVEN WILLS ALSO. 133
" Henry smiled, for so many and such serious events had
occurred since he last played with the king, that he would not
have been astonished to learn that the king had changed his
habitual companions at the game.
" I shall certainly join the king in his sport," said Henry,
with a smile,
"Then come," cried the duke."
u Are you going away ?" inquired Margaret.
" Yes, my sweet sister !"
" Are you in great haste to be gone ?"
" In very great!"
" Might I venture to ask you to grant me a few minutes ere
you depart ?"
So strange and wholly unaccustomed a demand from Mar-
guerite filled D'Alenqon with a vague and uneasy feeling of
something to be apprehended, and his colour changed rapidly
from a deep flush to the palest hue.
" What can she be going to say to him ?" thought Henry,
taken as much by surprise as the duke himself.
Marguerite quietly proceeded to the door of the cabinet, and
beckoned forth the wounded man, saying to Henry :
~ "It is for your majesty to explain to my brother the reason
for our taking an interest in M. de la Mole."
And Henry, caught in the snare so cleverly laid by Mar-
guerite, briefly related to M. d'Alengon, half a Protestant for the
sake of opposition, as he himself was partly a Catholic from
prudence, the arrival of M. de la Mole at Paris, and how the
young man had been severely wounded, while bringing to him
a letter from M. d'Auriac.
As the duke turned round after listening to this recital, he
perceived the hero of the tale standing before him.
At the sight of his pale handsome countenance, rendered
still more captivating by the marks of recent weakness and
suffering, a fresh feeling of anger and distrust shot through his
heart.
" Brother," said Marguerite, after she had well observed the
various changes of D'Alengon's countenance, " I will engage for
this young gentleman, that he will render himself serviceable to
whomsoever may employ him. Should you accept his services,
he will obtain a powerful protector, and you a faithful, zealous
servitor. In such times as the present, brother," continued she,
" we cannot be too well surrounded by devoted friends : more
134
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
especially,1" added she, lowering her voice so as to be heard
only by the duke, " when one is ambitious, and has the mis-
fortune to be only third in the succession to the throne."
Then, placing her finger significantly on her lip, she intimated
to D'Alengon that she had not revealed the whole of her views
and ideas on the subject, but had the most important part still
buried within her own breast.
" Perhaps," added she, " you may differ from Henry, in con-
sidering it not decorous or befitting that this young gentleman
should remain so immediately in the vicinity of my apart-
ments."
" Sister," replied Francois, " if it meet your wishes, M. de la
Mole shall, in half an hour, be installed in my apartments,
where, I think, he can have no cause to fear any danger.
Let him try to win my affection, and I promise him he shall
obtain it."
" Excellent," murmured Marguerite to herself, as she saw the
frown that hung over the brow of the King of Navarre. " Ah,
I see plainly enough, that to lead you both as I would have you
go, it is necessary to make one lead the other."
And in half an hour after this, La Mole, having been gravely
lectured by Marguerite, kissed the hem of her robe, and de-
scended to the apartments of D'Alen5on,with a step wondrously
light and agile for one who had been so recently wounded.
Several days passed away, and appeared still further to con-
solidate the harmony apparently existing between Henry and
his wife.
Henry had obtained permission not to make a public re-
nunciation of his religion ; but he had formally recanted in the
presence of the king's confessor, and every day went openly to
mass.
At midnight he took ostensibly the road to his wife's apart-
ments, entered by the principal door, and after remaining some
time in conversation with her, quitted by the secret door, and
ascended to the chamber of Madame de Sauve, who had duly
informed him of the visit of the queen-mother, as well as the
imminent danger which so seriously threatened him. Thus
warned and protected on both sides, Henry redoubled his
mistrust and his caution against Catherine, and this with a
deeper impression of such a line of proceeding being necessary,
as the queen-mother had lately bestowed smiles instead of frowns
on him, and addressed him with words of studied cordiality.
WHAT WOMAN WILLS, HEAVEN WILLS ALSO. 135
Though the massacres still continued, their extent and
violence were naturally lessened, and bade fair soon to end ;
for so great had been the butchery of the Huguenots, that the
supply began to fail, and fresh victims were not easily found.
The greater part of those unfortunate people were already
sacrificed. Many had found safety in flight, and others were
in concealment, Occasionally a great outcry would arise in
some neighbourhood in which a fresh object of popular fury
was discovered; and the execution was either public or private,
according as the spot was either a confined one or admitted of
escape.
Charles the Ninth had taken great pleasure in hunting down
the Huguenots, and when he could no longer continue the
chase himself, he took delight in the noise of others hunting.
One day, returning from playing at mall, which with tennis
and hunting were his favourite amusements, he went to his
mother's apartments in high spirits, followed by his usual train
of courtiers.
" Mother," he said, embracing the Florentine, who, observ-
ing his joy, endeavoured to detect its cause; "mother, good
news ! Mort de tous les diables ! Do you know that the
illustrious carcass of the admiral, which it was said was lost, has
been found ?"
" Ah, ah !" said Catherine.
"Oh, mon Dien ! yes. You thought as I did, mother, the
dogs had eaten a wedding dinner otf him ; but it was not so.
My people, my dear people, my good people, had a clever
idea, and have hung the admiral up at the gibbet of Mont-
faucon."
" Well !" said Catherine.
" Well, good mother," replied Charles IX., " I have a strong
desire to see him again, dear old man, now I know he is really
dead ! It is very fine, and the flowers seem to smell very
sweet to-day. The air is full of life and perfume, and I feel
better than I ever did. If you like, mother, we will get on
horseback, and go to Montfaucon."
"Willingly, my son," said Catherine, "if I had not an ap-
pointment that I cannot defer ; and beside, to pay a visit to a
man of such importance as the admiral, we should assemble
the whole court. It will be an occasion for observers to make
very curious observations. We shall see who comes and who
stays away,"
136
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Ma foi / you are right, mother, and it will be better to-
morrow; so send out your invitations, and I will send mine ;
or, rather, do not let us invite any one. We will only say we
are going, and then every one will be free to do as they please.
Adieu, mother ! I am going to play on the horn."
" You will exhaust yourself, Charles, as Ambroise Par£ is
always telling you; and he is right. It is too trying an exer-
cise for you."
" Bah ! bah ! bah !" said Charles ; " I wish I was sure nothing
else would kill me; I would then bury everybody here, includ-
ing Harry, who will one day succeed us all—as Nostradamus
prophesies."
Catherine frowned.
" My son," she said, " mistrust more especially all things
that appear impossible, and in the meanwhile take care of your-
self."
" Only two or three blasts to rejoice my dogs, who are
wearied to death with doing nothing, poor things ! Fought to
have let them loose on the Huguenots ; that would have done
them good !" And Charles IX. left his mother's apartment,
went into his armoury, took down a horn, and sounded it with
a vigour that would have done honour to Roland himself. It
was difficult to understand how so weak a frame and such pale
lips could blow a blast so powerful.
Catherine, in truth, was awaiting some one, as she had told
her son. A minute after he had left her, one of her women
came and spake to her in a low voice. The queen smiled, rose,
and saluting the persons who formed her court, followed the
messenger.
Rene the Florentine, he to whom, on the eve of St. Bartholo-
mew, the King of Navarre had given so diplomatic a reception,
entered the oratory.
" Ah ! is it you, Rene ?" said Catherine. "Have you renewed,
as I desired, the trial of the horoscope drawn by Ruggieri, and
which agrees so well with the prophecy of Nostradamus, which
says that all my three sons shall reign ?"
" Yes, rnadame," replied Rene ; " for it is my duty to obey
you in all things."
" Well—and the result ?"
" Still the same, madame."
"What, the black lamb has uttered three cries ?"
" Precisely, madame,"
WHAT WOMAN WILLS, HEAVEN WILLS ALSO. 137
" The sign of three cruel deaths in my family/' murmured
Catherine.
"Alas !" said Rend
" What then ?"
" Then, madame, there was in its entrails that strange dis-
placing of the liver, which we had already observed in the two
first."
" A change of dynasty still—still—still!'' muttered Cathe-
rine ; "yet this must be changed, Ren^/' she added.
Ren6 shook his head.
" I have told your majesty," he said, " that destiny rules
aH."
" Is that your opinion ?" asked Catherine.
"Yes, madame."
" Do you remember D'Albret's horoscope ?"
"Yes, madame."
" Let us repeat it, and once more consider it. I have quite
forgotten it. Repeat it to me, good Rene."
" Vives honorata," said Rene, " morieris reformidata, regina
amplificabered
" Which means, I believe," said Catherine, " Thou shalt live
honoured—and she lacked common necessaries ; Thou shalt die
feared—and we laughed at her ; Thou shalt be greater than thou
hast been as a queen—and she is dead, and sleeps in a tomb, on
which we have not even engraved her name."
" Madame, your majesty does not translate the vives hono-
rata rightly. The Queen of Navarre lived honoured ; for all
her life she enjoyed the love of her children, the respect of her
partisans ; respect and love all the more sincere in that she was
poor."
"Yes," said Catherine, "I pass over the vives honorata; but
morieris reformidata : how will you explain that ?"
" Nothing more easy : Thou shalt die feared."
"Well—did she die feared?"
" So much so, that she would not have died had not your
majesty feared her. Then—As a queen thou shalt be greater;
or, Thou shalt be greater than thou hast been as a queen. This
is equally true, madame ; for in exchange for a terrestrial crown,
she has doubtless, as a queen and martyr, a celestial crown;
and, besides, who knows what the future may reserve for her
posterity ?"
Catherine was superstitious to an excess 3 she was more
138 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
alarmed at Rene's cool pertinacity than at the pertinacity of
the auguries ; and she said suddenly to him, without any other
transition than the working of her own thoughts :
" Are any Italian perfumes arrived ?"
"Yes, madame."
" Send me a box full."
" Of which ?"
" Of the last, of those "
Catherine stopped.
" Of those the Queen of Navarre was so fond of(?" asked
Rene.
" Exactly."
" I need not prepare them, for your majesty is now as skilful
at them as myself."
"You think so?" said Catherine. " They certainly do sue-
ceed."
"Your majesty has nothing more to say to me?" asked the
perfumer.
"Nothing," replied Catherine, thoughtfully; "only if there
•is any change in the sacrifices, let me know it in time. Let us
leave the lambs, and try the hens."
" Alas ! madame, I fear that in changing the victim we shall
not change the presages."
" Do as I tell you."
The perfumer bowed and left the apartment.
Catherine mused for a short time, then rose, and returning to
her bedchamber, where her women awaited her, announced the
pilgrimage to Montfaucon for the morrow.
The news of this party of pleasure threw the palace and city
into no small bustle : the ladies prepared their most elegant
toilettes ; the gentlemen their finest arms and steeds ; the
tradesmen closed their shops, and the populace killed a few
straggling Huguenots, in order to furnish company to the dead
admiral.
La Mole had passed a miserable day, and this miserable day
had followed three or four others equally miserable. M.
d'Alenqon, to please his sister, had installed him in his apart-
ments, but had not since seen him ; he felt himself like a poor
deserted child, deprived of the tender cares, the soothing
attentions of two women, the recollections of one of whom
occupied hitn perpetually. He had heard of her through Am-
broise Pare, whom she had sent to him, but Ambroisq was
WHAT WOMAN WILLS, HEAVEN WlLLS ALSO.
139
old fellow to whom he could not talk of his passion. Gillonne,
indeed, had come once, as if of her own accord, to ask after
him, and the visit was to him like a sunbeam darting into a
dungeon, but Gillonne had not repeated it.
As soon, then, as he heard of this splendid assemblage of
the court on the morrow, La Mole requested of M. d'Alengon
the favour of being allowed to accompany it. The duke did
not even trouble himself to inquire whether La Mole was
sufficiently recovered to bear the fatigue, but merely an-
swered:
" Humph ! well, let him have one of my horses."
This was all La Mole wanted ; Maitre Ambroise Pare came
to dress his wounds, and La Mole explained to him the neces-
sity he was under of mounting on horseback, and prayed him
to dress his wounds with more than usual care.
The two wounds were closed, both that on the breast and
that on the shoulder, and the latter alone pained him. They
were both in a fair way of healing ; Maitre Ambroise Pare
covered them with gummed taffetas, a remedy greatly in vogue
then, and promised La Mole that if he did not exert himself
too much, everything would go well; La Mole next employed
a part of the money he had received when he left his family
in purchasing a very handsome white satin doublet, and one of
the richest embroidered cloaks he could procure. He also
bought a pair of boots of perfumed leather, worn at that period.
He dressed himself quickly, looked in his glass, and found that
he was suitably attired, arranged, and perfumed.
Whilst he was thus engaged in the Louvre, another scene, of
a similar kind, was going on at the Hotel de Guise. A tall
gentleman, with red hair, was examining, before a glass, a red
mark, which went across his face very disagreeably ; he coloured
and perfumed his moustache, and as he did so, in vain tried to
conceal this wheal; in spite of all the cosmetics applied, it
would still appear. The gentleman then put on a magnificent
dress which a tailor had brought to his apartment without any
commands from him. Thus attired, scented, and armed from
head to foot, he descended the staircase, and began to pat a
large black horse, whose beauty would have been matchless, but
for a small scar in the flank, caused by a sword wound.
Yet, enchanted with the good steed as he found him, the
gentleman, whom, no doubt, our readers have recognised, was
soon on his back, and for a quarter of an hour showed off in
140
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
the court of the Hotel de Guise his skill as a horseman, amidst
the neighings of his courser, and Mordis out of all number.
Then the good steed, completely subdued, recognised by his
obedience and subjection the control of the cavalier, but the
victory had not been obtained without noise, and this noise
had drawn to the windows a lady, whom the cavalier saluted
respectfully, and who smiled at him in the most agreeable
manner. Turning then towards her first gentleman :
" M. d'Arguzon," she said, " let us set out for the Louvre,
and keep an eye, I beg, on the Comte Annibal de Coconnas,
for he is wounded, and consequently still weak ; and I would
not for all the world any accident should happen to him. That
would make the Huguenots laugh, for they owe him a spite
since the blessed night of Saint Bartholomew."
And Madame de Nevers, mounting her horse, went joyfully
towards the Louvre, which was the general rendezvous.
CHAPTER XVI.
the body of a dead enemy always smells sweet.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon, when a file of cavaliers,
glittering with gold, jewels, and splendid garments, appeared
in the Rue Saint-Denis.
Nothing can be imagined more splendid than this spectacle.
The rich and elegant silk dresses, bequeathed as a splendid
fashion by Fran§ois I. to his successors, had not yet been
changed into those formal and sombre vestments which came
into fashion under Henry III. ; so that the costume of Charles
IX., less rich, but perhaps more elegant than those of preceding
reigns, displayed its perfect harmony. Pages, esquires, gentle-
men of low degree, dogs, and horses—all were there, and formed
-of the royal cortege an absolute army. Behind this army came
the people, or rather the people were everywhere.
That morning, in presence of Catherine, and the Duke de
Guise, Charles had, as a perfectly natural thing, spoken before
Henry of Navarre of going to visit the gibbet of Montfaucon,
or rather, the mutilated corpse of the admiral, which had been
suspended to it. Henry's first movement had been to dispense
with accompanying them ; this Catherine had. expected at the
fimt words he said, expressing his repugnance, and she ex-
THE BODY OF A DEAD ENEMY. I41
changed a glance and a smile with the Duke de Guise ; Henry
surprised both and understood them, then suddenly turning
round, he said :
" But why should I not go ? I am a Catholic, and am bound
to my new religion."
Then, addressing the king :
"Your majesty may reckon on my company," he said ; "and
I shall be always happy to accompany you wheresoever you
may go ;" and he threw a sweeping glance around, to see whose
brows might be frowning.
And, perhaps of all this cortege, the person who was looked
at with the greatest curiosity was this son without a mother—
this king without a kingdom—this Huguenot turned Catholic.
His long and marked countenance, his somewhat vulgar figure,
his familiarity with his inferiors, which he carried to a degree
almost derogatory to a king—a familiarity acquired by the
mountaineer habits of his youth, arid which he preserved till his
death, marked him out to the spectators, some of whom cried:
"To mass, Harry ! to mass !"
To which Henry replied :
" I attended it yesterday, to-day, and I shall attend it again
to-morrow. Ventre-saint-gris ! surely that is sufficient."
Marguerite was on horseback—so lovely, so fresh, so elegant,
that she was the admired of all admirers, although the Duchess
de Nevers shared some portion of the general approval.
" Well, duchess !" said the Queen of Navarre, " what news ?"
" Why, madame," replied the duchess, aloud, " I know of
none." Then in a lower tone : " And what has become of the
Huguenot ?"
" I have found him a retreat almost safe," replied Margue-
rite; " and the wholesale murderer, what have you done with
him ?"
" He wished to be present, and so we mounted him on M.
de Nevers' war-horse, a creature as big as an elephant. He is
a fearful cavalier. I allowed him to be present to-day, as I felt
that your Huguenot would be prudent enough to keep his
chamber, and that there was no fear of their meeting."
" Oh, ma foi /" replied Marguerite, smiling, " if he were here,
and he is not, I do not think a rencontre would ensue. My
Huguenot is remarkably handsome, but nothing more—a dove,
and not a hawk ; he coos, but does not rend in pieces. After
all," she added, with a gesture impossible to describe, and
MARGUERITE DE VALOTS.
shrugging her shoulders slightly ; " after all, perhaps, our king
thought him a Huguenot, whilst he is only a Brahmin, and his
religion forbids him to shed blood."
" But where, then, is the Duke d'Alenijon ?" inquired Hen-
riette ; " I do not see him."
"Why, at this moment there are shouts down there. It is
he, doubtless, rvho is passing the Porte-Montmartre."
"Yes ; it is he, and he seems in good spirits to-day," said
Henriette ; " he is in love, perchance ; and see how nice it is to
be a prince of the blood : he gallops over everybody, and every-
body draws on one side."
"Yes," said Marguerite, laughing, "he will ride over us.
But draw your attendants on one side, duchess, for one of them
will be killed : he does not give way."
" It is my hero !" cried the duchess ; "look, only look !"
Coconnas had quitted his rank to approach the Duchesse de
Nevers, but at the moment when his horse was crossing the
kind of exterior boulevard which separates the street from the
Faubourg Saint-Denis, a cavalier of the suite of the Duke
d'Alengon, trying in vain to rein in his excited horse, dashed
full against Coconnas, who, shaken by the collision, well-nigh
lost his seat; his hat nearly fell off, and as he put it on firmer,
he turned round furiously.
" Dieu /" said Marguerite, in a low tone, to her friend,
" M. de la Mole !"
" That handsome pale young man ?" exclaimed the duchess,
unable to repress her first impression.
" Yes, yes ; he who nearly upset your Piedmontese."
" Oh," said the duchess, " something terrible will happen !
they look at each other—recollect each other 1"
Coconnas had indeed recognised La Mole, and in his surprise
dropped his bridle, for he believed he had killed his old com-
panion, or at least put him hors de combat for some time. La
Mole had also recognised Coconnas, and all his blood rushed
up into his face. For some seconds, which sufficed for the
expression of all the sentiments which these two men felt to-
wards each other, they gazed on one another in a way that
frightened the two women.
After which, La Mole having looked about him, and seeing
that the place was ill chosen for any explanation, spurred his
horse and rejoined the Duke d'Alengon. Coconnas remained
stationary for a moment, twisting his moustache until the point
THE BODY OF A DEAD ENEMY. 143
almost entered his eye ; then, seeing La Mole dash off without
a word, he did the same.
" Ah ! ah !" said Marguerite, with painful contempt, " I was
not deceived, then !—it is really too much;" and she bit her
lips till the blood came.
" He is very handsome," added the Duchess de Nevers, with
commiseration.
Just at this moment the Duke d'Alengon reached his place
behind the king and the queen-mother, so that his suite, in fol-
lowing him, were obliged to pass before Marguerite and the
Duchess de Nevers. La Mole, as he passed, raised his hat,
saluted the queen, and, bowing to his horse's neck, remained
uncovered until her majesty should honour him with a look.
But Marguerite turned her head aside disdainfully.
La Mole, no doubt, comprehended the contemptuous expres-
sion of the queen's features, and from pale he became livid, and
that he might not fall from his horse, was compelled to hold on
by the mane.
"Ah, ah !" said Henriette to the queen ; "look, cruel that
you are !—he is going to faint."
"Good," said the queen, with a smile of disdain; "it only
needs that. Where are your salts ?"
Madame de Nevers was mistaken. La Mole, with an effort,
recovered himself, and, sitting erect on his horse, took his
place in the Duke d'Alengon's suite.
As they went forward, they at length saw the fearful outline
of the gibbet, erected and first used by Enguerrand de Ma-
rigny.
The guards advanced and formed a large ring round the
spot; aTtheir approach, the crows perched on the gibbet flew
away, croaking and angry.
The crowd advanced ; the king and Catherine arrived first,
then the Duke d'Anjou, the Duke d'Alengon, the King of
Navarre, M. de Guise, and their followers ; then Madame
Marguerite, the Duchess de Nevers, and all the women who
composed what was called Vescadron volant de la reine (the
queen's flying squadron); then the pages, squires, attendants,
and people—in all ten thousand persons.
To the principal gibbet was suspended a misshapen mass,
stained with coagulated blood and mud, whitened by layers of
dust. The carcase was headless, and they had hung it up by
the legs, and the people, ingenious as they always are, had
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
replaced the head with a bunch of straw, on which they had
put a mask; and in the mouth of this mask some wag, know-
ing the admiral's habit, had introduced a toothpick.
It was a sight at once appalling and singular, as all these
elegant lords and handsome ladies defiled in the midst of
blackened carcases and gibbets, and their long and sinister
arms.
Many could scarcely support this horrible spectacle, and by
his paleness might be distinguished, in the centre of rallied
Huguenots, Henry, who, however great his power over him-
self and his amount of dissimulation, could not bear it any
longer.
He made as his excuse the strong smell which emanated
from those human remains, and going towards Charles, who,
with Catherine, had stopped in front of the admiral's dead
body, he said :
"Sire, does not your majesty find that this poor carcase
smells so strongly that it is impossible to remain near it any
longer ?"
"Do you find it so, Harry?" inquired the king, his eyes
sparkling with ferocious joy
"Yes, sire."
" Well, then, I am not of your opinion; the corpse of a dead
enemy always smells sweet."
" Come, come, sire !" said Catherine, who, in spite of the
perfume with which she was covered, began to be incommoded
with the putrid odour. " Come, however agreeable company
may be, it must be left at last; let us therefore bid adieu to the
admiral, and return to Paris."
She made with her head an ironical gesture, in imitation of
a leave-taking from a friend, and, going to the front of the
columns, regained the road, whilst the cortege defiled before
the corpse of Coligny.
The sun was fast sinking in the horizon.
The crowd followed so rapidly, that in ten minutes after the
departure of the king, there was no person about the mutilated
carcase of the admiral, which was now blown upon by the first
breezes of the evening.
When we say no person, we mistake. A gentleman, mounted
on a black horse, and who, doubtless, could not contemplate
at his ease the misshapen and mutilated trunk when it was
honoured by the presence of princes, had remained behind,
THE BODY OF A DEAD ENEMY.
145
and was examining, in all their details, the bolts, stone pillars,
chains, and so on, of the gibbet, which no doubt appeared to
him (but lately arrived in Paris, and ignorant of the perfection
to which things could be brought in the capital) the paragon of
all that man could invent of the outrageously disgusting.
We need hardly inform our friends that this individual, in
ecstasy before the handiwork of Enguerrand de Marigny, was
M. Annibal de Coconnas.
The eye of a female had in vain sought him in the ranks ;
but this eye was not the only one that sought M. de Coconnas ;
another gentleman, remarkable from his white satin doublet
and flowing plume, after having gazed around him on all sides,
at length caught sight of the tall figure of Coconnas and the
vast outline of his horse, and then the gentleman in the white
satin doublet left the line which the main body was taking, and
turning to the right, and describing a semicircle, returned to-
wards the gibbet. Almost at the same moment, the lady,
whom we have recognised for the Duchess de Nevers, ap-
proached Marguerite, and said to her:
" We were both deceived, Marguerite; for the Piedmontese
has remained behind, and M. de la Mole has followed
him."
"Mordi/" replied Marguerite, laughing, "then something
is going to happen. Ma foi! I confess I shall not be sorry to
have occasion to change my opinion."
Marguerite then turned round, and saw La Mole execute
the manoeuvre we have described.
Then the two princesses quitted the main body, at the first
favourable occasion, and turned down a path, bordered on both
sides by hedges, which led back to within thirty paces of the
gibbet. Madame de Wevers said a vrord in her captain's ear,
Marguerite made a sign to Gillonne, and the four persons went
by the cross road to ensconce themselves behind the bushes
nearest to the spot in which was to pass the scene they desired
to witness.
Marguerite alighted, as did Madame de Nevers and Gillonne.
and the Captain, in his turn, who took charge of the four horses.
A space in the hedge allowed the three women to see all that
passed.
La Mole had reached Coconnas, and, stretching out his
hand, tapped him on the shoulder
The Piedmpntese turned round.
19
146
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS.
" Oh !" said he, "then it was not a dream ! You are still
alive !"
" Yes, sir," replied La Mole ; " yes, I am still alive. It is
no fault of yours, but I am still alive."
" Mordi ! I know you again well enough," replied Coconnas,
" in spite of your pale face. You were redder than that the last
time we met!"
" And I," said La Mole ; " I also recognise you, in spite of
that yellow line across your face. You were paler than that
when I made that mark for you !"
Coconnas bit his lips, but, resolved on continuing the con-
versation in a tone of irony, he said :
"It is curious, is it not, Monsieur de la Mole, particularly
for a Huguenot, to be able to look at the admiral suspended
Tom an iron hook ? And yet they say that we are guilty of
killing even the small Huguenots, who were sucking at the
breast."
" Comte," said La Mole, bowing. " I am no longer a Hugue-
not; I have the happiness to be a Catholic !"
"Bah!" exclaimed Coconnas, bursting into loud laughter;
^you are a convert—eh, sir? Well, that's well managed !"
" Sir," replied La Mole, with the same seriousness and the
same politeness, " I made a vow to become a convert if I
escaped the massacre."
" Comte," said the Piedmontese, " that was a very prudent
vow, and I beg to congratulate you. Made you no others ?"
" Yes," answered La Mole, " I made a second." And as he
said so, he patted his horse with entire coolness.
" And what might that be ?" inquired Coconnas.
" To hang you up there, by that small nail which seems to
await you beneath M. de Coligny."
"What, as I am now?" asked Coconnas, "alive and
merry ?"
"No, sir; but after having passed my sword through your
body !"
Coconnas became purple, and his eyes darted flames.
"You are not tall enough to do it, my little sir !"
" Then I'll get on your horse, my great manslayer," replied
La Mole. "Ah, you believe, my dear M. Annibal de Cocon-
nas, that one may with impunity assassinate people under the
loyal and honourable cover of a hundred to one, forsooth ! But
the day comes when a man finds his man ; and I believe that
THE BODY OF A DEAD ENEMY.
147
day has come now. I should very well like to send a bullet
through your ugly head; but, bah ! I might miss you, for my
hand is still trembling from the traitorous wounds you inflicted
upon me."
"My ugly head!" shouted Coconnas, dismounting hastily.
" Down—down from your horse, M. le Comte, and draw !"
And he drew his sword.
La Mole alighted as calmly as Coconnas had done so pre-
cipitately ; he took off his cherry-coloured cloak, laid it leisurely
on the ground, drew his sword, and put himself on guard.
" Ah !" he said, as he stretched out his arm.
" Oh !" muttered Coconnas, as he did the same—for both, as
it will be remembered, had been wounded in the shoulder.
A burst of laughter, ill repressed, came from the clump of
bushes, and reached the ears of the two gentlemen, who were
ignorant that they had witnesses, and, turning round, beheld
their ladies.
La Mole resumed his guard as firm as an automaton, and
Coconnas crossed his blade with an emphatic Mordi !
" Ah ! then now they will murder each other in real earnest,
if we do not interfere. There has been enough of this. Hola,
gentlemen !—hola !" cried Marguerite.
" Let them be—let them be !" said Henriette, who, having
seen Coconnas fight, hoped in her heart that Coconnas would
make as short work with La Mole as he had done with the two
nephews and the son of Mercandon.
" Oh, they are really beautiful so !" exclaimed Marguerite.
" Look—they seem to breathe fire !"
And the combat, begun with railleries and mutual provoca-
tion, became silent as soon as the champions had crossed their
swords. Both distrusted their strength, and each, at every
quick pass, was compelled to restrain an expression of pain
occasioned by his old wounds. With his eyes fixed and
burning, his mouth half open, and his teeth clenched, La Mole
advanced with short and firm steps towards his adversary, who,
seeing in him a most skilful swordsman, retreated step by step.
They both thus reached the edge of the fosse, on the other side
of which were the spectators; then, as if his retreat had been
only a simple stratagem to draw nearer to his lady, Coconnas
took his stand, and on a motion of his blade, a little too wide,
by his adversary, with the quickness of lightning, thrust in
148
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.-
quart, and in a moment the white satin doublet of La Mole
was stained with a spot of blood which kept growing larger.
" Courage !" cried the duchess.
" Ah, poor La Mole!" exclaimed Marguerite, with a cry of
distress.
La Mole heard this cry, darted at the queen one of those
looks which penetrate the heart even deeper than the sword's
point, and taking advantage of a false parade, thrust vigorously
at his adversary.
This time the two women uttered two cries which seemed
like one. The point of La Mole's rapier had appeared, all
covered with blood, behind Coconnas' back.
Yet neither fell. Both remained erect, looking at each other
with open mouth, and feeling that on the slightest movement
they must lose their balance. At last the" Piedmontese, more
dangerously wounded than his adversary, and feeling his senses
forsaking him with his blood, fell on La Mole, grasping him
with one hand, whilst with the other he endeavoured to un-
sheath hi-s poniard. La Mole, on his part, roused all his
strength, raised his hand, and let fall the pommel of his sword
on Coconnas' forehead, who, stupefied by the blow, fell, but in
his fall drew down his adversary with him, and both rolled into
the fosse.
Then Marguerite and the Duchess de Nevers, seeing that,
dying as they were, they were still struggling to destroy each
other, hastened towards them, followed by the captain of the
guards; but before they could reach them, their hands un-
loosened their mutual clutch, their eyes closed, and the com-
batants, letting go their grasp of their weapons, stiffened as in
their final agony. A large stream of blood flowed from each.
" Oh, brave, brave La Mole !" cried Marguerite, unable any
longer to repress her admiration. " Ah ! pardon me a thousand
times for having a moment doubted your courage."
And her eyes filled with tears.
" Alas ! alas !" murmured the duchess, " gallant Annibal.
Did you ever see two more intrepid heroes, madame?"
And she sobbed aloud.
" Indeed, they were ugly thrusts," said the captain, en-
deavouring to staunch the streams of blood. " Hola ! you,
there, come here as quickly as you can—here, I say "
He addressed a man who, seated on a kind of tumbril, or
cart, painted red, was singing a snatch of an old song.
THE BODY OF A DEAD ENEMY.
149
The carter, whose repulsive exterior formed a singular con-
trast with the sweet and sylvan song he was singing, stopped
his horse, came towards the two bodies, and looking at them,
said :
" These be terrible wounds, sure enough, but I have made
worse in my time."
" Who, then, are you ?" inquired Marguerite, experiencing, in
spite of herself, a certain vague terror which she could not
overcome.
" Madame," replied the man, bowing down to the ground, " I
am Maitre Caboche, headsman to the provostry of Paris, and
I have come to hang up at the gibbet some companions for
monsieur the admiral."
" Well ! and I am the Queen of Navarre," replied Marguerite,
" and I bid you cast your corpses down there, spread in your
cart the housings of our horses, and bring these two gentlemen
softly behind us to the Louvre."
CHAPTER XVII.
THE RIVAL OF MAiTRE AMBROISE PARE.
The tumbril, in which were La Mole and Coconnas, took the
road to the Louvre, following at a distance the group that
served as a guide. It stopped at the Louvre, and the driver
was amply rewarded. The wounded men were carried to the
Duke d'Alengon's lodgings, and Maitre Ambroise Pare sent
for.
When he arrived, they were both insensible.
La Mole was the least hurt of the two. The sword had
pierced him below the right armpit, but without touching any
vital part. As for Coconnas, he was run through the lungs, and
the air that escaped from his wound made the flame of a candle
waver.
Ambroise Pare would not answer for Coconnas.
Madame de Nevers was in despair. She it was who, relying
on Coconnas's courage and skill, had prevented Marguerite
from interposing.
In order to conceal the cause of their wounds, Marguerite, in
having them transported to her brother's apartments, where one
of them was already installed, said they were two gentlemen
MARGUERITE DE VALOlS.
who had been thrown from their horses; but the real story
became known, in consequence of the intense admiration of the
captain who had witnessed the duel, and who related all the
particulars, and our two heroes had soon a brilliant reputation
at court.
Attended by the same surgeon, they both passed through the
different stages of convalescence, arising from the different
degrees of severity of their wounds. La Mole was the first
who came to himself. As for Coconnas, he was in a high fever,
and his return to life was marked by all the signs of delirium.
Although in the same room as Coconnas, La Mole had not
perceived his companion, or, at least, had given no indication
of it. Coconnas. on the contrary, when he opened his~eyes,
fixed them on La Mole with an expression that proved that the
blood he had lost had not modified the passions of his fiery
temperament.
Coconnas thought he was dreaming, and that in this dream
he saw the enemy he imagined he had twice slain. Then, that
after having observed La Mole laid, like himself, on a couch,
and his wounds dressed by the surgeon, he saw him rise up in
bed, while he himself was still too weak to move, then get out
of bed, then walk, first leaning on the surgeon's arm, and then
on a cane, and, in the end, without assistance.
Coconnas, still delirious, viewed these different stages of his
companion's recovery with eyes sometimes fixed, at others
wandering, but always threatening.
Then arose in his mind, more wounded than his body, an in-
satiable thirst of vengeance. He was wholly occupied with one
idea, that of procuring some weapon, and piercing this vision
that so cruelly persecuted him. His clothes, stained with blood,
had been placed on a chair by his bed, but were afterwards re-
moved, it being thought imprudent to leave them in his sight;
but his poniard still remained on the chair, for it was imagined
it would be some time before he would want to employ it.
Coconnas saw the poniard ; three nights, profiting by La
Mole's slumbers, he strove to reach it; three nights his strength
failed him, and he fainted. At length, on the fourth night, he
clutched it convulsively, and groaning with the pain of the
effort, concealed the weapon beneath his pillow.
The next day he saw a new spectacle. The shade of La
Mole, that every day seemed to gain strength, whilst he, occu-
pied with his design, seemed to lose his—the shade of La
THE RIVAL OR MA1TRE AMBR01SE PARE.
Mole walked thoughtfully up and down the room, three or
four times, then, after having adjusted his mantle, buckled
on his rapier, and put on a large hat, opened the door and
went out.
Coconnas breathed again. For two hours his blood circulated
more freely in his veins than it had done since the duel. One
day's absence of La Mole would have recalled Coconnas'
senses : a week's absence would have cured him : unfortunately,
La Mole returned at the end of two hours.
This re-appearance of La Mole was a poniard stab for Cocon-
nas ; and although La Mole did not return alone, Coconnas did
not give a single look at his companion.
That companion was nevertheless worth being looked at.
He was a man of forty, short, thick-set, and vigorous, with
black hair, cut short, and a black beard, which, contrary to the
fashion of the period, thickly covered the chin ; but he seemed
one who cared little for the fashion.
He wore a leather jerkin, stained and spotted with blood ;
red hose and leggings, thick shoes coming above the ankle ; a
cap the same colour as his stockings, and a girdle, from which
hung a large knife in a leather sheath, completed his attire.
This singular personage, whose presence in the Louvre seemed
so unaccountable, threw his brown mantle on a chair, and un-
ceremoniouslyapproachedCoconnas, whose eyes,as if fascinated,
remained fixed upon La Mole, who remained at the other end
of the room. He looked at the sick man, and, shaking.his head,
said to La Mole :
" You haven't hurried yourself."
" I could not get. out sooner."
"Why did not you send for me ?"
" Whom had I to send ?"
" True, I forgot where we are. Ah, if my prescriptions had
been followed instead of those of that ass, Ambroise Pare, you
would have been by this time in a condition to go in pursuit of
adventures together, or exchange another sword-thrust if you
liked ; but we shall see. Does your friend hear reason ?"
" Scarcely."
" Hold out your tongue, sir. Ah, I see there's no time to be
lost. This evening I will send you a potion ready prepared :
you must make him take it at three times; once at midnight,
once at one o'clock, and once at two."
" Very well."
*52
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS.
" But who will administer it ?"
" I will."
" You yourself?"
" Yes."
" You promise me ?"
"On my honour."
" And if the doctor seeks to obtain any of it to analyse it ?"
" I will throw it away to the last drop."
" On your honour ?"
" I swear it!"
" Done ; but how get it in here ? Oh, faith, I'll send it to
you as from Maitre Rene, the perfumer. He poaches on my
profession so often, I may surely use his name for once."
" Then," said La Mole, " I rely on you."
"You may."
"And as for the payment?"
" Oh, we will arrange about that when the gentleman is well
again."
" You may be quite easy on that score, for I am sure he will
pay you nobly."
" No doubt. Adieu, then, M. de la Mole. In two hours
you will have the potion. You understand, it must be given at
midnight, in three doses, from hour to hour."
So saying, he left the room, and La Mole was alone with
Coconnas.
Coconnas had heard the whole conversation, but remembered
nothing except the word " Midnight."
He continued to watch La Mole, who remained in the room,
pacing thoughtfully up and down.
The unknown doctor kept his word, and at the appointed
time sent the potion, which La Mole placed on a small heater,
and then lay down.
The clock struck twelve. Coconnas opened his eyes ; his
breath seemed to scorch his lips, and his throat was parched
with fever; the night lamp shed a faint light, and made thou-
sands of phantoms dance before his eyes.
He then saw La Mole rise from his couch, walk about a few
moments, and then advance towards him, threatening him, as
he thought, with his clenched hand. Coconnas seized his
poniard, and prepared to plunge it into his enemy.
La Mole approached.
Coconnas murmured :
THE RIVAL OF MA I f.'RE AMBROISE PARE. 153
' "Ah! 'tis you—'tis you, then ! Ah! you menace me!
you threaten me ! you smile ! Come, come, come, that I may
kill you."
And suiting the action to the word, as La Mole leaned
towards him, Coconnas drew the poniard from under the
clothes ; but the effort exhausted him, and he fell back upon
his pillow.
"Dome, come," said La Mole, supporting him, "drink this,
my poor fellow, for you are burnt up."
It was in reality a cup that La Mole presented to Coconnas,
and which he had mistaken for his fist.
But at the nectarous sensation of this blessed draught, sooth-
ing his lips, and cooling his throat, Coconnas resumed his
reason, or rather his instinct; a feeling of delight pervaded his
frame; he fixed his eyes on La Mole, who was supporting him
in his arms, and smiled gratefully on him ; and from those orbs,
so lately glowing with fury, a tear rolled down his burning
cheek.
" Mordi /" murmured Coconnas. " If I get over this, M. de
la Mole, you shall be my friend."
" And you will get over it," said La Mole, " if you will drink
the other two cups, and have no more ugly dreams."
An hour afterwards La Mole, obedient to his instructions,
rose again, poured a second dose into the cup, and carried it to
Coconnas, who instead of receiving him Avith his poniard,
opened his arms, eagerly swallowed the potion, and then fell
aleep.
The third cup had a no less marvellous effect. The sick
man's breathing became more regular, his limbs supple, a
gentle perspiration diffused itself over his skin, and when
Ambroise Pare visited him the next morning, he smiled com-
placently:
" I answer for M. de Coconnas now; and this will not be
one of the least difficult cures I have effected."
The result of this scene was the friendship of the two gentle-
men, which, commencing at La belle Etoile, and violently inter-
rupted by the night of St. Bartholomew, now surpassed that of
Orestes and Pylades by five sword-thrusts and one pistol-wound
exchanged between them.
Old and new wounds, slight or serious, were at last in a fair
way of cure. La Mole, though quite well, would not forsake
his post of nurse until Coconnas was also recovered. He raised
*54
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
him in bed, and helped him when he began to walk, until by
the aid of Count Annibal's naturally vigorous constitution, he
was restored to perfect convalescence.
However, one and the same thought occupied both the young
men. Each had in his delirium seen the woman he loved
approach his couch, and yet, since they had recovered their
senses, neither Marguerite nor Madame de Nevers had
appeared. It is true that the gentleman who had witnessed
the combat had come several times, as if of his own accord, to
inquire after them ; it is also true that Gillonne had done the
same ; but La Mole had not ventured to speak to the one con-
cerning the queen : Coconnas had not ventured to speak to the
other of Madame de Nevers.
CHAPTER XVIII.
the visit.
During some time the two young men kept their secret con-
fined each to his own breast. At last, on a day of warm and
mutual feeling, the thought which had so long occupied them
escaped their lips, and both cemented their friendship by this
final proof, without which there is no friendship—namely
perfect confidence.
They were both madly in love—one with a princess, and the
other with a queen.
They both, as they recovered from their illness, took great
pains with their personal appearance. Every man, even the
most indifferent to physical appearance, has, at certain times,
mute interviews with his looking-glass, signs of intelligence,
after which he generally quits his confidant, quite satisfied with
the conversation. Now our two young friends were not men
whose mirrors gave them no encouragement. La Mole, thin,
pale, and elegant, had the beauty of distinction; Coconnas,
powerful-, large-framed, and fresh-coloured, had the beauty of
strength. He had more, for his recent illness had been of
advantage to him. He had become thinner, grown paler; and
the famous scar, which had formerly left across his face the
prismatic colours of the rainbow, had disappeared.
The most delicate attentions continued to.be lavished on the
two wounded men, and on the day when each was well enough
THE VISIT.
to rise, he found a robe-de-chambre on the arm of his easy chair:
on the day when he was able to dress himself, a complete suit
of clothes ; moreover, in the pocket of each doublet was a well-
filled purse, which they each intended, as a matter of course, to
return, in time and place, to the uriknown protector who
watched over them.
This unknown protector could not be the prince with whom
the two young men resided, for not only the prince had never
once paid them a visit, but he had not even sent to make any
inquiry after them.
A vague hope whispered to each heart that this unknown
protector was the 'woman he loved. The two wounded men
therefore awaited with intense impatience the moment when
they could go out. La Mole, stronger and sooner cured than
Coconnas, could have done so long before, but a kind of tacit
convention bound him to his friend.
At length, after two months passed in convalescence and
confinement, the long-looked-for day arrived, and about two
o'clock in the afternoon, on a fine day in autumn, such as Paris
sometimes offers to her astonished population, who have already
made up their minds to the winter, the two friends, leaning on
each other's arms, quitted the Louvre.
La Mole undertook to be the guide of Coconnas, and Cocon-
nas allowed himself to be guided without resistance or reflec-
tion. He knew that his friend meant to conduct him to the
unknown doctor's, whose potion (not patented) had cured him
in a single night, when all the drugs of Master Ambroise Pare
were killing him slowly. He had divided the money in his
purse into two parts, and intended a hundred rose-nobles for
the unknown Esculapius, to whom his recovery was due.
Coconnas was not afraid of death, but Coconnas was not the
less satisfied to be alive and well.
La Mole directed his steps towards the Place des Halles.
Near the ancient fountain was an octagon stone building, sur-
mounted by a vast lantern of wood, which was again surmounted
by a pointed roof, on the top of which was a weathercock.
This wooden lantern had eight openings, traversed, as that
heraldic piece which they call the/ascis traverses the field of
blazonry, by a kind of wheel of wood, which was divided in the
middle, in order to admit in the holes cut in it for that purpose
the head and hands of the sentenced person or persons who
were exposed at one or other of all these eight openings.
156
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
This singular construction, which had nothing like it in the
surrounding buildings, was called the pillory.
An ill-constructed, irregular, crooked, one-eyed, limping
house, the roof covered with moss, like the skin of a leper, had,
like a toadstool, sprung up at the foot of this species of tower.
This house was the executioner's.
A man was exposed, and was thrusting out his tongue at the
passers-by ; he was one of the robbers who had been following
his profession beneath the gibbet of Montfaucon, and had by
ill-luck been arrested in the exercise of his functions.
Coconnas believed that his friend had brought him to see
this singular spectacle, and mingled in the crowd of amateurs
who replied to the grimaces of the patient by vociferations and
shouts. Coconnas was naturally cruel, and the sight very much
amused him; and when the moving lantern was turning on its
base, in order to show the exhibited to another portion of the
multitude, and the crowd were following, Coconnas would have
accompanied them, had not La Mole checked him, saying, in a
low tone :
" It was not for this that we came here." And he led
Coconnas to a small window in the house which abutted on the
tower, and at which a man was leaning.
" Ah—ah ! is it you, messeigneurs ?" said the man, raising his
blood-red cap, and showing his black and thick hair, which de-
scended to his eyebrows. " You are welcome."
" Who is this man ?" inquired Coconnas, endeavouring to
recollect, for he believed he had seen his face during one of the
crises of his fever.
" Your preserver, my dear friend," replied La Mole ; " he who
brought to you at the Louvre that refreshing drink which did
you so much good."
" Oh, oh !" said Coconnas ; " in that case, my friend "
And he held out his hand to him.
But the man, instead of returning the gesture, stood up and
retreated a pace from the two friends.
" Sir," he said to Coconnas, " thanks for the honour you offer
me, but it is most probable that if you knew me, you would not
vouchsafe it."
" Ma foi /" said Coconnas ; " I declare that, even if you were
the devil himself, I am very greatly obliged to you, for I owe
you my life.'
" I am not exactly the devil," replied the man in the red cap;
THE VISIT.
" but yet there are frequently persons who would rather see the
devil than me."
" Then, who are you ?" asked Coconnas.
" Sir," replied the man, " I am Maitre Caboche, the execu-
tioner of the provostry of Paris "
" Ah " said Coconnas, withdrawing his hand.
"You see !" said Maitre Caboche.
" No, no; I will touch your hand, or may the devil fetch me !
Hold it-out "
" Really ?"
" Most certainly."
« Here it is !"
" Open it—wider—wider !"
And Coconnas took from his pocket the handful of gold he
had prepared for his anonymous physician, and placed it in the
executioner's hand.
" I would rather have had your hand entirely and solely," said
Maitre Caboche, shaking his head ; " for I am not in want of
money, but of hands to touch mine. Nevermind! God bless
you, gentlemen !"
" So, then, my friend," said Coconnas, looking at the execu-
tioner with curiosity, " it is you who give men pain, who put
them on the wheel, rack them, cut off heads, and break bones.
Ah, ah ! 1 am very glad to have formed your acquaintance."
" Sir," said Maitre Caboche, " I do not do all myself: just
as you have lackeys, you noble gentlemen, to do what you do
not choose to do yourself, so have I my assistants, who do the
coarser work and make preparations. Only when, by chance,
I have to do with folks of quality, like you and that other gentle-
man, for instance, ah ! it is then a very different thing, and I
take a pride in doing everything myself, from first to last—that
is to say, from the first putting of the question, to the behead-
ing!"
In spite of himself, Coconnas felt a shudder pervade his veins,
as if the actual wedge was being driven beside his legs—as if the
edge of the axe wras against his neck.
La Mole, without being able to account for it, felt the same
sensation. But Coconnas overcame the emotion, of which he
was ashamed, and desirous of taking leave of Maitre Caboche
with a jest on his lips, said to him:
" Well, master, I hold you to your word, and when it is my
turn to mount the gallows of Euguerrand de Mariemy, or the
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
scaffold of M. de Nemours, you alone shall lay hands on
me."
" I promise you.
" Then, this time here is my hand, as a pledge that I accept
your promise," said Coconnas.
And he extended to the headsman his hand, which the heads-
man touched timidly with his own, although it was evident that
he had a great desire to grasp it warmly.
At this light touch, Coconnas turned rather pale ; but a smile
still remained on his lips, whilst La Mole, ill at ease, and seeing
the crowd turn with the lantern and come towards them, touched
his cloak.
Coconnas, who in reality had as great desire as La Mole to
put an end to this scene, nodded to the executioner, and went
his way.
" Ada foi /" said La Mole, when he and his companion had
reached the Cross du Trahoir, " we breathe more freely here
than in the Place des Halles !"
" Decidedly," replied Coconnas ; " but I am not the less glad
at having made Maitre Caboche's acquaintance. It is well to
have friends everywhere."
CHAPTER XIX.
the abode of maitre ren"£, perfumer to the
queen-mother.
At the period of this history there existed in Paris, for passing
from one part of the city to another, but five bridges, some of
stone and the others of wood, and they all led to the Cite ;
amongst these five bridges, each of which has its history, we
shall now speak more particularly of the Pont-Saint-Michel.
In the midst of the houses which bordered the line of the
bridge, facing a small islet, was a house remarkable for its panels
of wood, over which a large roof impended, like the lid of an
immense eye. At the only window which opened on the first
story, over the window and door of the ground-floor, closely shut,
was observable a reddish light, which attracted the attention of
the passers-by to the low fagade, large, and painted blue, with
rich gold mouldings. A kind of frieze, which separated the
ground-floor from the first-floor, represented groups of devils in
THE ABODE OF MAITRE RENE.
iS9
the most grotesque postures imaginable; and a large plain
strip, painted blue like the faqade, ran between the frieze and
the window, with this inscription : " Rene, Florentine, Perfumer
to Her Majesty the Queen-Mother."
The door of this shop was, as we have said, closely bolted;
but it was defended from nocturnal attacks better than by
bolts, by the reputation of its occupant, so redoubtable that the
passengers over the bridge usually kept away from contact with
the building, as if they feared the very smell of the perfumes
that might exhale from the house.
From similar motives, the neighbours right and left of Rene
had quitted their houses, which were thus entirely deserted ;
yet, in spite of this solitude, belated passers by had frequently
seen, glittering through the crevices of the shutters of these
empty habitations, certain rays of light, and had heard certain
noises like groans, which proved that some beings frequented
these abodes, although they did not know if they belonged to
this world or the other.
It was, doubtless, owing to the privilege which the dread of
him, widely circulated, had procured for him, that Maitre Rene
had dared to keep up a light after the p escribed hour. No
round or guard, however, would have dared to molest him, a
man doubly dear to her majesty as her fellow-countryman and
perfumer.
The shop of the ground-floor had been dark and deserted
since eight o'clock in the evening—the hour at which it closed,
not again to open until next morning, and it was there was the
daily sale of perfumery, unguents, cosmetics, and all the articles
of a skilful chemist. Two apprentices aided him in the retail
business, but did not sleep in the house.
In the evening they went out an instant before the shop was
closed, and in the morning waited at the door until it was
opened.
In the shop, which was large and deep, there were two doors,
each leading to a staircase. One of these staircases was in
the wall itself, and the other was exterior, and visible from the
Quai des Augustins, and from what is now called the Quai des
Orfevres.
Both led to a room on the first-floor, of the same size as the
ground floor, except that it was divided into two compartments
by tapestry suspended in the centre. At the end of the first
compartment opened the door which led to the exterior stair-
160 MARGUERITE EE VAL01S.
case. On the side face of the second opened the door of the
secret staircase. This door was invisible; being concealed by
a large carved cupboard fastened to it by iron cramps, and
moving with it when pushed open. Catherine alone, besides
Rene',, knew the secret of this door, and by it she came and de-
parted ; and with eye or ear placed against the cupboard, in
which were several small holes, she saw and heard all that
passed in the chamber.
Two other doors, visible to all eyes, presented themselves at
the sides of the second compartment. One opened to a small
chamber lighted from the roof, and having nothing in it but
a large stove, alembics, retorts, and crucibles : it was an al-
chemist's laboratory; the other opened on to a cell more
singular than the rest of the apartment, for it was not lighted
at all—had neither carpet nor furniture, but only a kind of
stone altar.
The floor sloped from the centre to the ends, and from the
ends to the base of the wall was a kind of gutter ending in a
funnel, through whose orifice might be seen the sombre waters
of the Seine. On nails driven into the walls were suspended
instruments of singular shape, all keen and trenchant, with
points as fine as a needle and edges as sharp as a razor : some
shone like mirrors; others, on the contrary, were of a dull grey
or murky blue. In a corner were two black fowls, struggling
with each other and tied together by the claws. This was the
Sanctuary of Augury.
Let us return to the middle chamber, that with two com-
partments.
It was here that the vulgar clients were introduced: here
were Ibises of Egypt; mummies, with gilded bands ; the cro-
codile, yawning from the ceiling; death's heads, with eyeless
sockets and gumless teeth; and here, old musty volumes, torn
and rat-eaten, were presented to the eye of the visitor in pell-
mell confusion. Behind the curtain were phials, singularly
shaped boxes, and vases of curious construction; all lighted up
by two small silver lamps which, supplied with perfumed oil,
cast their yellow flame around the sombre vault, to which each
was suspended by three blackened chains.
Rene, alone, his arms crossed, was pacing up and down the
second compartment with long strides, and shaking his head,
After a lengthened and painful musing he paused before an
hour-glass,.
THE ABODE OF MAITRE RENE.
"Ah! ah !" he said, "I forgot to turn it; and perhaps the
sand has all passed a long time since."
Then, looking at the moon, as it struggled through a heavy
black cloud which seemed to hang over Notre-Dame, he said :
"It is nine o'clock. If she comes, she will come, as usual,
in an hour or an hour and a half: then there will be time
for all."
At this moment a noise was heard on the bridge. Rene
applied his ear to the long tube, the extremity of which reached
unto the street.
" No," he said, " it is neither she nor they : it is men's foot-
steps, and they stop at my door—they are coming hither."
And three knocks were heard at the door.
Rend rapidly descended, and placed his ear against the door,
without opening it.
The blows were repeated.
" Who's there ?" asked Rene.
" Is it necessary that we should mention our names ?"
inquired a voice.
" Absolutely indispensable," replied Rend.
" Then, I am the Count Annibal de Coconnas," said the
same voice.
"And I am the Count Lerac de la Mole," said another
voice.
" Wait, wait a second, gentlemen, and I am at your service ;"
and at the same moment, Rend, drawing the bolts and lilting
the bars, opened the door to the two young men only, locking
it after him. Then, conducting them by the exterior staircase,
he introduced them into the second compartment.
La Mole, as he entered, made the sign of the cross under his
cloak. He was pale, and his hand trembled without his being
able to repress this symptom of weakness.
Coconnas looked at everything, one after the other; and
seeing the door of the cell, tried to open it.
" Allow me to observe, sir," said Rend, in a serious tone, and
placing his hand on Coconnas', "that those who do me the
honour of a visit, have only access to this apartment."
" Oh, very well," replied Coconnas ; " besides, I want to sit
down," and he placed himself on a chair.
There was profound silence for the next minute—Maitre
Rend expecting that one or pther of the young men would
open the conversation.
XI
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
" Maitre Ren£," at length said Coconnas, " you are a very
skilful man, and I pray you tell me if I shall always remain a
sufferer from my wound—that is, always experience this short-
ness of breath, which prevents me from riding on horseback,
practising feats of arms, and eating rich omelettes ?"
Rene put his ear to Coconnas' chest, and listened attentively
to the play of the lungs.
"No, comte," he replied, "you will be cured."
" Really ?"
" Yes, I assure you."
" Well, I am happy to hear it."
Again, all was silent.
"Is there nothing else you would desire to know, M. le
Comte ?"
" I wish to know," said Coconnas, " if I am really in love?"
" You are," replied Rene.
" How do you know?"
" Because you ask the question."
" Mordi ! you are right. But with whom ?"
" With her who now, on every occasion, uses the oath you
have just uttered."
" Ah !" said Coconnas, amazed ; " Maitre Rene, you are a
wonderful man ! Now, La Mole, it is your turn."
La Mole blushed, and seemed embarrassed.
" I, M. Rene," he stammered, and speaking more firmly as
he proceeded, " do not desire to ask you if I am in love, for I
know that I am, and do not seek to conceal it from myself: but
tell me, shall I be beloved in return ? for, in truth, all that at
first seemed propitious now turns against me."
"Perchance you have not done all you should do."
" What is there to do, sir, but to testify, by our respect and
devotion to the lady of our thoughts, that she is really and pro-
foundly beloved ?"
" You know," replied Rene, " that these demonstrations are
frequently very insignificant."
" Then must I despair ?"
" By no means : we must have recourse to science. There
are in human nature antipathies to be overcome—sympathies
which may be forced. Iron is not the loadstone; but by im-
pregnating it, we make it, in its turn, attract iron."
" Yes, yes," muttered La Mole ; " but I have an objection to
all these sorceries."
THE ABODE OF MAITRE RENE.
" Ah, then, if you have any such objections/ you should not
come here," answered Rene.
"Come, come, this is child's play!" interposed Coconnas.
" Maitre Rene, can you show me the devil ?"
" No, M. le Comte."
" I'm sorry for that; for I had a question or two to put to his
dark highness, and it might have encouraged La Mole."
" Well, then, let it be so," said La Mole, "let us go to the
point at once. They have spoken to me of figures modelled
in wax after the resemblance of the beloved object. Is this a
method ?"
'• An infallible one."
" And in the experiment, there is nothing which can in any
way affect the life or health of the person beloved ?"
" Nothing."
" Let us try, then."
"Shall I make first trial?" said Coconnas.
" No," said La Mole, " since I have begun, I will go through
to the end."
At this moment, some one rapped lightly at the door—so
lightly that Maitre Rene alone heard the noise for which he had
been awaiting.
He put, without any hesitation, his ear to the pipe, whilst he
made several inquiries of La Mole. Then he added, suddenly :
" And then think well of your wish, and call the person whom
you love."
La Mole knelt, as if about to name a divinity; and Rene,
going into the other compartment, went out noiselessly by the
exterior staircase, and an instant afterwards, light steps trod the
flooring of his shop.
La Mole rose, and beheld before him Maitre Rene. The
Florentine held in his hand a small figure in wax, very indif-
ferently modelled, and wearing a crown and mantle.
" Do you desire to be always beloved by your royal mistress?"
demanded the perfumer.
" Yes, if my life—my soul, should be the sacrifice !" replied
La Mole.
"Well," said the Florentine, taking with the ends of his
finger some drops of water from an ewer, sprinkling them over
the figure, and muttering certain Latin words.
La Mole shuddered, believing that some sacrilege was being
committed.
II—2
MARGUERITE DE VALOJS.
" What are you doing ?" he inquired.
" I am christening this figure with the name of Marguerite."
" For what purpose ?"
"To establish a sympathy."
Rend then traced on a small strip of red paper certain caba-
listic characters, put it into the eye of a steel needle, and with
the needle pierced the small wax model in the heart.
Strange to say, at the orifice of the wound appeared a small
drop of blood, and then he burnt a piece of paper.
The warmth of the needle melted the wax, and dried up the
spot of blood.
" Thus," said Rene, " by the force of sympathy, your love
•shall pierce and burn the heart of the woman whom you love."
Coconnas, as the bolder spirit of the two, laughed, and in a
low tone jested at the whole affair; but La Mole, amorous and
superstitious, felt a cold dew start from the roots of his hair.
" And now," continued Rene, " press your lips to the lips of
the figure, and say : ' Marguerite, I love thee ! Come, Mar-
guerite, come !'"
La Mole obeyed.
At this moment they heard the door of the second chamber
open, and light steps approach. Coconnas, curious and in-
credulous, drew his poniard, and fearing a rebuke from Rene if
he raised the tapestry, cut a small piece out with his dagger, and
applying his eye to the hole, uttered a cry of astonishment, to
which two female voices responded.
" What is it ?" exclaimed La Mole, nearly dropping the waxen
figure, which Rene caught from his hands.
" Why," replied Coconnas, " the Duchess de Nevers and
Madame Marguerite are there !"
" Well, then, incredulous !" replied Rene, with an austere
smile, " do you still doubt the force of sympathy ?"
La Mole was petrified on seeing the Queen; Coconnas was
amazed at beholding Madame de Nevers. One believed that
the sorceries of Ren£ had evoked the spectre of Marguerite:
the other, seeing the door half open, by which the lovely
phantoms had entered, gave at once a worldly and substantial
explanation to the mystery.
Whilst La Mole was crossing himself and sighing, Coconnas,
who had driven away all ideas of the interference of the foul
fiend by the aid of his strong powers of incredulity, having ob-
served, through the chink in the curtain, the astonishment of
THE ABODE OF MAITRE RENE.
165
Madame de Nevers and the somewhat caustic smile of Mar-
guerite, judged it to be a decisive moment, and understanding
that a man may say in behalf of a friend what he cannot say for
himself, instead of going to Madame de Nevers, went straight
to Marguerite, and bending his knee, after the fashion of the
great Artaxerxes, cried, in a voice not deficient in effect:
" Madame, this very moment, at the demand of my friend the
Count de la Mole, Maitre Rene evoked your spirit; and to my
utter astonishment, your spirit is accompanied with a body most
dear to us, and which I recommend to my friend. Shade of
her majesty the Queen of Navarre, will you desire the body of
your companion to come on the other side of the curtain ?"
Marguerite laughed heartily, and made a sign to Henriette,
who passed to the other side of the curtain.
" La Mole, my friend," continued Coconnas, " be as eloquent
as Demosthenes, as Cicero, as the Chancellor de l'Hopital ! and
be assured that my life will be perilled if you do not persuade
the body of Madame de Nevers that I am her most devoted,
most obedient, and most faithful servant."
" But " stammered La Mole.
" Do as I desire ! And you, Maitre Rene, watch that we are
not interrupted."
Rene did as Coconnas desired him.
" Mordi! sir," said Marguerite, " you are a man of sense. I
listen to you. What have you to say ?"
" I have to say to you, madame, that the shadow of my friend
—for he is a shadow, and he proves it by not uttering a single
syllable—I say, then, that this shadow has supplicated me to
use the faculty which material bodies possess, and to say to you :
Lovely Shadow, the gentleman who thus lost his corporeality
has lost it by the rigour of your eyes. If you were yourself, I
would ask Maitre Rene to plunge me in some sulphureous hole
rather than hold such language to the daughter of Henry II.,
the sister of King Charles IX., and the wife of the King of
Navarre. But shadows are freed from all terrestrial pride, and
are never haughty when they love. Therefore, pray of your
body, madame, to bestow a little love on poor La Mole—a soul
in trouble, if ever there was one; a soul first persecuted by friend-
ship, which three times thrust into him several inches of cold
steel; a soul burnt by the fire of your eyes—fire a thousand
times more consuming than all the flames of Tartarus ! Have
pity, then, on this poor soul! Love a little what was the hand-
166
MARGUERITE DE VAIOIS.
some La Mole; and if you no longer possess speech, ah ! be-
stow a gesture, a smile upon him. The soul of my friend is a
very intelligent soul, and will easily comprehend. Be kind to
him, then; or, mordi ! I will pass my sword through the body
of Rene, in order that, by virtue of the power which he pos-
sesses over spirits, he may force yours, which he has already so
opportunely evoked, to do all a shadow so amiably disposed as
yours appears to be, should do."
Marguerite could not repress a burst of laughter at this tirade ;
yet, preserving the silence which, on such an occasion, may be
supposed characteristic of a royal shade, she presented her
hand to Coconnas, who took it tenderly in his own, and, calling
to La Mole, said :
" Shade of my friend, come hither instantly !"
La Mole, amazed, overcome, silently obeyed.
" 'Tis well," said Coconnas, taking him by the back of the
head ; " and now bring the shadow of your handsome brown
countenance into contact with the white and vaporous hand
before you."
And Coconnas, suiting the " action to the word," placed this
most delicate hand to La Mole's lips, and kept them for a
moment respectfully united, without the hand seeking to with-
draw itself from the gentle pressure.
La Mole then, summoning his presence of mind, suddenly
rose, and leaving the hand of Marguerite in that of Coconnas,
took himself that of the Duchess de Nevers, and bending his
knee, said :
"Loveliest—most adorable of women—I speak of living
women, and not of shadows !" and he turned a look and a
smile to Marguerite ; " allow a soul released from its mortal
trappings to repair the absence of a body fully absorbed by
material friendship. M. de Coconnas, whom you see, is but a
man—a man of bold and hardy frame, of flesh handsome to
gaze upon perchance, but perishable, like all flesh. Yet although
a stalwart and right knightly gentleman, who, as you have seen,
distributes as heavy blows as were ever seen in wide France—
this champion, so full of eloquence in presence of a spirit, dares
not accost a female body in the flesh. 'Tis therefore he has
addressed the shadow of the queen, charging me to speak to
your lovely body, and to tell you that he lays at your feet his
soul and heart; that he entreats from your divine eyes a look
in pity—from your rosy fingers, to beckon him with a sign, and
THE ABODE OE MAlTRE RENE.
167
from your musical and heavenly voice to say those words which
he never can forget; if not, he has supplicated another thing—.
and that is, in case he should not soften you, you will pass, for
the second time, my sword—which is a real blade, for swords
have no shadows but in the sunshine—pass my sword right
through his body, for he can live no longer if you do not autho-
rise him to live exclusively for you."
Henriette's eyes (she herself had been a little jealous of
Coconnas's address to the Queen of Navarre) turned from La
Mole, to whom she had listened, towards Coconnas, to see if
the expression of that gentleman's countenance harmonised with
the loveful address of his friend. It seemed that she was
satisfied, for blushing, breathless, conquered, she said to Co-
connas, with a smile, which disclosed a double row of pearls
enclosed in coral:
" Is this true?"
" Mordi /" exclaimed Coconnas, fascinated by her look, "it
is true, indeed. Oh, yes, madame, it is true—true on my life
—true on my death !"
" There, then," said Henriette, extending to him her hand,
whilst her eyes proclaimed the feelings of her heart.
Coconnas and La Mole each approached his lady-love, when
suddenly the door at the bottom opened, and Rene appeared.
" Silence !" he exclaimed, in a voice which at once damped
all the ardour of the lovers; " silence !"
And they heard in the solid wall the sound of a key in a
lock, and of a door grating on its hmges.
" But," said Marguerite, haughtily, " I should think that no
one has the right to enter whilst we are here !"
"Not the queen-mother?" murmured Rene in her ear.
Marguerite instantly rushed out by the exterior staircase,
leading La Mole after her; Henriette and Coconnas followed
them.
They all four fled, as fly at the first noise the birds we have
seen engaged in loving parley on the boughs of a flowering
shrub.
168
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHAPTER XX.
the black hens.
It was time for the two couples to disappear. Catherine turned
the key in the lock, just as Coconnas and Madame de Nevers
closed the secret door, and Catherine could hear their steps on
the stairs.
She cast a suspicious glance around, and then fixing her eyes
on Rene, who stood motionless before her, said :
" Who was that ?"
" Only some lovers, who are quite content with the assurance
I gave them, that they are really in love."
" Never mind them," said Catherine, shrugging her shoulders;
"is there no one here?"
"No one but your majesty and myself."
" Have you done what I ordered you ?"
" About the two black hens ?"
"Yes!"
" They are ready, madame."
"Ah," muttered Catherine, "if you were a Jew !"
" Why a Jew, madame ?"
" Because you could then read the Hebrew treatises concern-
ing sacrifices. I have had one of them translated, and I found
that it was not in the heart or liver that the Hebrews sought for
omens; but in the brain, and the letters traced there by the all-
powerful hand of destiny."
" Yes, madame ; so I have heard from an old rabbi."
" There are," said Catherine, " characters thus marked that
reveal all the future. Only the Chaldean seers recommend "
" What ?" asked Rene, seeing the queen hesitate.
" That the experiment shall be tried on the human brain, as
more developed and more nearly sympathising with the wishes
of the consulter."
"Alas!" said Rene, " your majesty knows it is impossible."
" Difficult, at least," said Catherine ; " if we had known this
at the St. Bartholomew, what a rich harvest we might have had.
But I will think of it the first time anybody is to be hanged.
Meantime, let us do what we can. Is the chamber of sacrifice
prepared ?"
"Yes, madame."
" Let us go there."
THE BLACK HENS.
109
Rene lighted a taper made of strange substances, and emitting
strong odours, and preceded Catherine into the cell.
Catherine selected from amongst the sacrificial instruments a
knife of blue steel, whilst Rene took up one of the fowls that were
crouched in the corner.
" How shall we proceed ?"
" We will examine the liver of the one and the brain of the
other. If these two experiments lead to the same result with
the former, we must needs be convinced."
" With which shall we commence ?"
" With the liver."
"Very well," said Rene, and he fastened the bird down to
two rings attached to the little altar, so that the creature, turned
on its back, could only struggle, without stirring from the spot.
Catherine opened its breast with a single stroke of her knife;
the fowl uttered three cries, and, after some convulsions, ex-
pired.
" Always three cries!" said Catherine ; " three signs of death."
She then opened the body.
" And the liver inclining to the left—always to the left, a
triple death, followed by a downfall. 'Tis terrible, Rene."
" We must see, madame, whether the presages from the
second correspond with those of the first."
Rene threw the dead fowl into a corner, and went towards
the, other, which, endeavouring to escape, and seeing itself pent
up in a corner, flew suddenly over Rene's head, and in its flight
extinguished the magic taper Catherine held.
"Thus shall our race be extinguished," said the queen:
" death shall breathe upon it, and destroy it from the face of
the earth ! Yet three sons ! three sons !" she murmured, sor-
rowfully.
Rene took from her the extinguished taper, and went to re-
light it.
On his return, he found the hen huddled in a corner.
"This time," said Catherine, "I will prevent the cries, for I
will cut off the head at once."
And accordingly, as soon as the hen was bound, Catherine
severed the head at a single blow; but in the last agony the
beak opened three times, and then closed for ever.
" Seest thou," said Catherine, terrified, "instead of three
cries, three sighs ?—they will all three die. Let us now see the
brain."
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
She severed the comb from the head, and carefully opening
the skull, endeavoured to trace a letter formed in the bloody
cavities that divide the brain.
" Always so !" cried she, clasping her hands; " and this time
clearer than ever ; see here !"
Rene approached.
" What is this letter ?" asked Catherine.
" An H," replied Rene.
" How many times repeated ?"
"Four," said he.
" Ay, ay ! • I see it! that is to say, Henry IV. Oh," cried
she, casting the knife from her, "I am accursed in my pos-
terity !"
She was terrible, that woman, pale as a corpse, lighted by
the dismal taper, and clasping her bloody hands.
" He will reign !" she exclaimed ; "he will reign !"
" He will reign !" repeated Rend, buried in meditation.
The gloomy expression of Catherine's face soon disappeared
before a sudden thought had passed through her mind.
" Rene," said she, without lifting her head from her breast,
"Rene, do you recollect the terrible history of a doctor at Pe-
rugia, who killed at once, by the aid of a pomade, his
daughter and his daughter's lover ?"
"Yes, madame."
"And this lover "
"Was King Ladislaus, madame."
"Ah, yes !" murmured she; "have you any account of this
history ?"
" I have an old book that mentions it," replied Rene.
"Well, let us go into the other chamber, and then you can
show it me."
They quitted the cell, the door of which Rene closed after
him.
" Has your majesty any other orders to give me concerning
the sacrifices ?"
" No, Rene, none ; I am sufficiently satisfied for the present;
only the next execution you must arrange with the executioner
for the head."
Rend bowed and approached the shelves, where stood the
books, reached down one of them, opened it, turned over the
leaves an instant, and then handed it to the queen-mother.
Catherine sat down at a table, Rene placed the magic taper
the black hens.
171
close to her, and by its dim and livid glare she read a few
lines.
" Good !" said she ; " this is all I wanted to know."
She rose from her seat, leaving the book on the table, but
bearing away the idea that had germinated in her mind, and
which would ripen there.
Rene waited respectfully, taper in hand, until the queen,
who seemed about to retire, should give him fresh orders or
ask fresh questions.
Catherine walked up and down several times without speak-
ing. Then suddenly stopping before Rene, and fixing on him
her eyes, round and piercing as those of a bird of prey:
" Confess you have given her some love-draught," said she.
" Whom ?" asked Rene, starting.
" La Sauve."
" I, madame ?" said Rene; " never !"
"Never?"
" I swear it."
"There must be some magic in it, however, for he is despe-
rately in love with her, though he is not famous for his con-
stancy."
"Who, madame?"
" He, Henry, the accursed—he who is to succeed my three
sons—he who shall one day sit upon the throne of France, and
be called Henry IV., and is yet the son of Jeanne d'Albret."
And Catherine accompanied these words with a sigh that
made Rene shudder, for he thought of the famous gloves he
had prepared by Catherine's order for the Queen of Navarre.
" He runs after her still, then ?" said Rene.
"Still," replied the queen.
"I thought that the King of Navarre was quite in love with
his wife now."
" All a farce, Rene. I know not why, but everybody is seek-
ing to deceive me. My daughter Marguerite is leagued against
me ; perhaps she, too, is looking forward to her brother's
death; perhaps she, too, hopes to be Queen of France."
" Perhaps so," re-echoed Rene, resuming his own reverie.
"Ha ! we shall see," said Catherine, advancing towards the
great door, for she doubtless judged it useless to descend the
secret stair, after Rene's assurance that they were alone.
Rene preceded her, and in a few minutes they stood in the
laboratory of the perfumer.
172
MARGUERITE DE VALOJS.
"You promised me some fresh cosmetics for my hands and
lips, Rene; the winter is approaching, and you know how
tender my skin is."
" I have already thought of that, madame; and I intended
to bring you some to-morrow."
" I shall not be visible before nine o'clock to-morrow even-
ing; I shall be occupied with my devotions during the day."
"I will be at the Louvre at nine o'clock, then, madame."
"Madame de Sauve has beautiful hands and lips," said
Catherine, in a careless tone. " What pomade does she
use ?"
" Heliotrope."
" For her hands ?"
"Yes."
" What for her lips ?"
" She is going to try a new composition of my invention,
and of which I intended to bring your majesty a box at the
same time."
Catherine mused an instant.
"She is certainly very beautiful," said she, pursuing "her
secret thoughts, "and the passion of the Bearnais for her is
astonishing."
" And so devoted to your majesty," said Rene.
Catherine shrugged her shoulders.
" When a woman loves, is she faithful to any one but her
lover ?—You must have given her some love-spell, Rend."
" I swear I have not, madame."
" Well, well; we'll say no more about it. Show me this opiate
you spoke of, that is to make her lips still more rosy."
Rene approached a drawer, and showed Catherine six small
silver boxes of a round shape, ranged side by side.
" This is the only spell she ever asked me for," observed
Rene ; " it is true, as your majesty says, I have composed it
expressly for her, for her lips are so tender that the sun and
wind affect them equally."
Catherine opened one of the boxes ; it contained a beautiful
carmine paste.
" Give me some paste for my hands, Rene," said she; " I
will take it away with me, for I have none."
Rend took the taper, and went to seek, in a private drawer,
what the queen asked for. As he turned, he fancied that he
saw the queen conceal a box under her mantle; he was, how-
THE BLACK HENS,
173
ever, too familiar with these habits of the queen to affect to
perceive the movement; so wrapping the cosmetic she de-
manded in a paper bag, ornamented with fleurs-de-lis :
" Here it is, madame," he said.
" Thanks, Rene," returned the queen : then, after a moment's
silence: " Do not give Madame de Sauve that paste for a few
days ; I wish to make the'first trial of it myself."
And she approached the door.
" Shall I have the honour of escorting your majesty ?" asked
Rene.
"Only to the end of the bridge," replied Catherine; "my
gentlemen and my litter wait for me there."
They left the house, and at the end of the Rue Barillerie
four gentlemen on horseback and a plain litter were in atten-
dance.
On his return, Rene's first care was to count his boxes of
opiates—one was wanting.
CHAPTER XXI.
madame de sauve's chamber.
Catherine had calculated rightly in supposing that Henry
would speedily resume his habit of passing his evenings with
Madame de Sauve. 'Tis true that the utmost caution was at first
observed in making these visits, but by degrees all precaution
was laid aside, and so openly did the King of Navarre avow
his preference for the society of Madame de Sauve, that
Catherine experienced not the smallest difficulty in ascertain-
ing that, however her daughter Marguerite might claim the
title of his queen, the real sovereign of his affections was the
fair Charlotte.
We have already made a slight mention of these apartments,
but for the reader's better information, we will state that they were
situated on the second floor of the palace, almost immediately
above those occupied by Henry himself, and in common with the
suites of rooms occupied by such as were officially employed
by the royal family, were small, dark, and inconvenient; the
door opened upon a corridor, feebly lighted by an arched win-
dow at the further end, but so completely did the cumbrous
sashes interfere with the purpose for which the window in
174
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
question had been, no- doubt, originally intended, that it was
only during a few hours of a sunshiny day that a few straggling
rays gained admittance; during winter it was nece5sary to light
the lamp placed at the end by two o'clock in the day, and the
said lamp only containing a certain portion of oil, it followed,
as a matter of course, that by the hour of Henry's usual visit, it
was exhausted, leaving the whole corridor in a state of dark-
ness.
The suite of rooms devoted to the service of Madame de
Sauve consisted of a small antechamber, hung with yellow
damask; a receiving-room, with hangings of blue velvet; a
sleeping-room, with its bed of curiously carved wood, heavy
curtains of rose-coloured satin, and tester composed of looking-
glass, set in silver, and paintings representing the loves of Venus
and Adonis; such was the residence, or rather nest, of the
lovely Charlotte de la Sauve, lady-in-waiting to her majesty
Queen Catherine.
A more careful examination of the apartment we have just
been describing discovered a toilette abundantly and luxuri-
ously provided with all the accessories of female beauty; nearly
opposite to which was a small door opening into a kind of
oratory, where, at an elevation of two steps from the ground,
stood a carved prie-dieu. Against the walls were suspended
three or four paintings, representing the most striking passages
in the lives of the saints, mingled with arms for female use,
both offensive and defensive ; for in these times of mysterious
intrigue, women carried arms as well as men, and very fre-
quently employed them as skilfully.
The evening on which we have introduced the reader to
Madame de Sauve's apartments was the one following the
scenes in which Maitre Rene' had played so conspicuous a
part ; and the fair Charlotte, seated beside Henry in her
sleeping chamber, was eloquently discoursing of her fears and
affection, and touched on the devotion she had exhibited the
night succeeding the massacre of St. Bartholomew—the only
night Henry had passed in Marguerite's apartments.
Henry, meanwhile, though duly grateful for the deep interest
expressed for him by the beautiful creature, who looked more
than usually captivating in the simple white peignoir' in which
she was robed, was more grave and thoughtful than exactly
satisfied Madame de Sauve, who had strictly obeyed Catherine's
injunctions to evince the most extreme affection for Henry.
MADAME DE SAUVE'S CHAMBER.
175
She eagerly and searchingly gazed upon him, as though to
ascertain how far his words and looks agreed.
" Charlotte," said Henry, at last, roused by her manner
from his meditative mood, " there is one question I want to
ask you, and I trust to you to answer me truly. How comes
it that, all at once, I find you listening so readily to my suit,
and lavishing upon so unworthy a creature as myself the rich
treasures of that love I so earnestly, though vainly, sought to
obtain before my marriage ? Something whispers to me that I
am indebted to the interference of her majesty Queen Cathe-
rine for the delightful change I experience."
Madame blushed, and hastily exclaimed, " For Heaven's
sake, speak not so loud when you name the queen-mother!"
"Nay," answered Henry, with such an air of confidence as
to deceive even Madame de Sauve herself, " there was a time
when such caution was requisite; but now that I am her
daughter's husband, the case is different."
" Ah, Henry !" replied Madame de Sauve, " you have been
sporting with my credulity in persuading me you love me ; 'tis
too plain you have bestowed your affections with your hand
—on Madame Marguerite."
Henry smiled.
"There!" exclaimed Madame de Sauve, "you smile so
provokingly, that I feel as though I could quarrel with you,
and forbid you ever to see my face again ! May I request to
be informed what your majesty meant by saying that you owed
my love to the orders of the queen-mother?"
" Why, I meant this, sweetheart, and nothing more : that,
though your heart felt inclined to return my love, you durst not
listen to its dictates till authorized by Catherine herself. But
be content, and believe that I fully return your affection ; and
for that reason, I will not confide to you the secret working of
my thoughts, lest you should be a sufferer; for the friendship
of the queen is unstable—there is no dependence on it—
it is just the uncertain, changeable regard of a mother-im
law."
This was not the point at which Charlotte aimed: and it
seemed to her as though an impenetrable barrier arose to sepa-
rate her from her lover directly she attempted to sound the
fathomless recesses of his heart. Her eyes filled with tears,
but just as she was about to reply, ten o'clock struck.
" Your majesty will pardon me for reminding you that it is
176
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
late; and I am required to be early in my attendance on the
queen-mother to-morrow morning."
" In other words, you are tired of my company, and want to
get rid of me ; eh, pretty one ? Is it not so ?" said Henry.
" Nay," answered Charlotte, " I am somewhat indisposed
to-night; and as I fear I may be led to say what it may displease
your majesty to hear, I would humbly request you to retire,
and leave me to my own sad thoughts."
" Well!" cried Henry, " be it as you will; but by way of
recompense for my obedience, will you not allow me to be
present while that beautiful hair is arranged for the night ?"
" Does not your majesty fear the displeasure of Queen
Marguerite, should you protract your departure ?"
"Charlotte," answered Henry, with a serious air, "we
agreed never to allude to or mention the name of the Queen
of Navarre, and it seems to me as though, to-night, we had
talked of nothing else."
Madame de Sauve arose with a sigh, and seated herself
before her toilette-table, while Henry, drawing a chair beside
her, placed one knee on the seat, and leaning on the back,
exclaimed :
" Mercy on us ! what a heap of wonderful things you have
here, my pretty Charlotte !—scent-bottles, powders, pots of
perfume, odoriferous pastilles, phials, washes. Who would
think so many accessories were requisite ere beauty could be
made perfect ?"
" Still," replied Charlotte, " it seems that my toilette lacks
the one needful embellishment that would enable me to reign
exclusively over your majesty's heart T
" Come, come, sweetheart," interrupted Henry, " do not let
us fall back upon past subjects, but tell me—for I am dying to
know—what is the use of this delicately small pencil? Now,
if I were good at guessing, I would venture to ask if it were
intended to trace out the arched brow of my beautiful Char-
lotte ?"
"Your majesty has guessed most successfully; 'tis even
as you say, for marking more perfectly the form of the eye-
brow."
" Then reward my skill by explaining the purport of this
little ivory rake ?"
" To form a perfect and accurate division of the roots of th?
hair."
MADAME DE SAUVE'S CHAMBER.
*11
" And this charming little silver box, with the lid so elegantly
wrought and embossed ?''
" That, sire, was sent to me from Rene; it contains the lip-
salve so long promised by him, to embellish the lips your
majesty has ere now deigned to admire."
And, with a view to exhibit the cosmetic in question to
Henry, Charlotte took the little box containing it in her hands^
but, just as she was about to open it, a sudden knocking at the
door made the lovers start.
"Madame," said Dariole, introducing her head through the
curtains that hung before the entrance to the chamber, " some
one knocks."
" Go, see who it is, and return quickly," said her mistress.
During the absence of the confidante, Henry and Charlotte
exchanged looks of considerable alarm; the former contem-
plating a hasty retreat to the oratory, which had before now
afforded him a safe hiding-place when similarly surprised.
" Madame !" cried Dariole, " 'tis Maitre Rene, the per-
fumer."
At this name, a frown darkened the brow of Henry, and his
lips were suddenly and involuntarily compressed.
" Shall I send him away ?" asked Charlotte.
"By no means," answered Henry ; " Maitre Rene is one of
those persons who do nothing without a motive ; his coming
hither is for some design or reason ; therefore admit him with-
out hesitation."
"Will your majesty choose to conceal yourself?"
" On no account," replied Henry; " for Master Rene, from
whom nothing is hid, knows perfectly well of my being
here."
" But are there not reasons why his presence should be
unpleasant to your majesty?"
"No!" answered Henry, vainly striving to conceal his
emotion, "none whatever; 'tis true there was a coolness be-
tween us; but since the night of St. Bartholomew, we have
made up all our differences."
" Show Maitre Rene' in," said Madame de Sauve to Dariole.
And the next instant Rene entered the chamber, casting
around him a quick, searching glance, that took in the
assembled group as well as every trifling circumstance. He
found Madame de Sauve sitting before her toilette, and Henry
reclining on the sofa at the opposite end of the room, so that
12
i78
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
while the full light fell upon Charlotte, Henry remained in
shadow.
" Madame," said Rene, with a sort of respectful freedom—
" I come to offer my apologies to you."
" And wherefore, my good Rene ?" asked Madame de Sauve,
with that air of pleased coquetry with which a pretty woman
beholds the means of rendering her beauty still more striking.
" For having thus long delayed fulfilling my premise cf
inventing a fresh beautifier for those lovely lips—and "
"And for deferring the performance of that promise until
this very day ?—that is what you mean, is it not, my worthy
Maitre Rene ?" inquired Charlotte.
" This day ?" repeated Rene.
"Yes, indeed, 'twas but this evening, not long since, I
received this box from you."
"Ah, truly: I had indeed forgotten it," said Rene, gazing
with a singular expression on the small box of lip-salve lying
on Madame de Sauve's toilette-table, and which exactly
resembled those in his shop ; " and may I inquire whether you
have yet made trial of it ?"
"Not yet: I was just about to do so when you entered."
The countenance of Rene became thoughtful, a change
which did not escape the observation of Henry, whom, indeed,
few things escaped.
"What ails you, Rene?" inquired the king.
" Nothing, sire," answered Rene. " I was but waiting till
your majesty should condescend to address me, ere I took my
leave of-Madame la Baronne."
" Nay, nay," answered Henry, smilingly, "you need no words
of mine to assure yourself that I am always happy to see you.
What say you, Rene ?—did you doubt that ?"
Rene glanced around him, and seemed as though search-
ingly examining each nook and corner of the apartment; then,
suddenly ceasing his survey, he so placed himself as to bring
both Madame de Sauve and Henry within his gaze.
Warned-by that admirable instinct which in Henry formed
almost a sixth sense, the king felt persuaded some strange and
conflicting struggle was going on in the mind of the perfumer,
and hastily turning round, so as to throw his own features into
shade, while those of the Florentine were fully revealed, he said :
" Bv the way, what brings you here so late to-night, Maitre
Rene ?"
MADAME DE SAUVE'S CHAMBER.
79
li Have I been so unfortunate as to disturb your majesty
by my visit?" replied the perfumer, retreating backwards to
the door.
" Not in the least, I promise you; but I should like to know
one thing."
" What is that, sire ?"
"Whether you expected to find me here?"
" I was quite sure your majesty was nowhere else."
"You were seeking me, probably ?"
"I am at least very happy to have met your majesty."
"You have something to say to me?" persisted Henryj
" come, come, 'tis useless seeking to deny it."
" 'Tis possible I have somewhat to say to your majesty,"
said Rene.
Charlotte blushed, and a dread lest the revelation the pel1-
fumer seemed tempted to make to Henry might relate to her
previous conduct towards the king, made her desirous of cutting
short the conversation ; feigning, therefore, so entire an absorp-
tion in the duties of her toilette as not to have heard a word
that had passed, she suddenly broke in upon it, by exclaiming,
as she opened the box of lip-salve :
"Rene, you are a dear good man, to have made me this
beautiful ointment; and, now I think of it, it will be an excel-
lent opportunity to make use of it while you are here, that you
may assist me with your valuable aid and direction as to the
right mode of employing it."
So saying, she dipped the tip of her finger in the vermilion
paste, and was just about to raise it to her lips.
Rene shuddered, and half extended his arm to prevent her.
The hand of the baronne had almost touched her lips.
Henry, concealed in deep shadow, marked well the action of
the one and the start of the other.
Rene became ghastly pale as the distance between the finger
of Charlotte and her lips was diminished to the smallest
possible space; then suddenly springing forwards, he arrested
her arm at the very instant that Henry arose with the same
intention. The king instantly fell back on the sofa, without
the slightest noise.
" One moment, madame !" cried Rene, with a forced smile,
"but this salve must not be used without very particular
directions."
" And who will supply me with these directions ?"
12 2
'iSo MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" I will."
• " And when ?"
" Directly I have finished saying what I have to say to his
majesty the King of Navarre."
Charlotte opened her eyes with amazement at the singular
and mysterious conversation which was being carried on with-
out her understanding a word of its import, and she continued
in mute astonishment, holding the pot of salve in one hand,
and gazing on the extremity of the finger tinged by the roseate
ointment she had intended for her lips.
Meanwhile, Henry arose, and moved by an idea which, like
all the thoughts of the young king, had two sides, the one
apparently superficial, and the other deep and profound, went
straight to Charlotte, and taking her hand, reddened as it was
with the ointment, feigned to be about to carry it to his
lips.
"Wait one minute!" exclaimed Rene, eagerly; "but an
instant! Be kind enough, madame, to wash your beautiful
hands with this Naples soap, which I quite forgot to send when
I sent the salve, but which I now have the honour of presenting
to you myself."
And drawing from its silver envelope a cake of greenish
coloured soap, he put it into a gilt basin, poured water upon it,
and bending one knee to the ground, he presented the whole
to Madame de Sauve.
" Why, really, Master Rend," cried Henry, " your gallantry
quite astonishes me; you put our court beaux quite out of the
field!"
" Oh, what a delicious odour !" exclaimed Charlotte, rubbing
her fair hands with the pearly froth that arose from the. balmy
soap.
Rene, unmoved by Henry's raillery, continued to fulfil his
self-imposed duties with the most rigorous exactitude: putting
aside the basin he had held, he presented Charlotte with a
towel of the most delicate texture, and when she had thoroughly
dried her hands, said;
" And now, my lord, you are at liberty to follow your royal
inclination."
Charlotte held out her hand to Henry, who kissed it and
returned to his seat, more convinced than ever that something
most extraordinary was going on in the mind of the Florentine.
" Well ?" said Charlotte.
"SIRE, YOU WILL BE KINGJ"
The Florentine appeared as though trying to collect all his
resolution, and after a short hesitation, turned towards
Henry.
CHAPTER XXII.
" sire, you will be king !"
" Sire !" said Rene to Henry, " I wish to speak to you on a
matter which has for a long time occupied my attention."
" Of perfumes ?" asked Henry, with a smile.
" Well, yes, sire—of perfumes," replied Rene, with a singular
tone of acquiescence.
"Well, then, speak on; for it is a subject which has much
interested me."
Rend looked at the king, endeavouring to read his thoughts,
but they were impenetrable ; and seeing that his scrutiny was
unavailing, he continued:
" One of my friends, sire, has just arrived from Florence : this
friend has devoted much of his time to astrology."
Yes," said Henry, "I know it is a Florentine pursuit."
" And he has, in association with the leading savans of the
world, drawn the horoscopes of the principal personages in
Europe."
" Indeed !" said Henry.
" And as the house of Bourbon is amongst the leading houses,
descending, as it does, from the Comte du Clermont, fifth son
of Saint Louis, your majesty may well suppose that yours has
not been forgotten."
Henry listened still more attentively; adding, with a smile
as indifferent as he could make it: "And do you recollect this
horoscope ?"
" Oh !" answered Rene, shaking his head ; " your horoscope
is one not easily forgotten."
"Really !" said Henry, with an ironical look.
" Yes, sire ; your majesty, according to the indications of this
horoscope, is called to the most brilliant destiny."
The eyes of the young prince emitted involuntarily a
lightning glance, and then as rapidly reassumed its look ot
indifference.
44 All these Italian oracles are flatterers/' said Henry, "and
182
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
he who flatters, lies. Are there not some who say I shall
command armies ?"
And he burst into loud laughter. But an observer less occu-
pied than Rene would have marked and comprehended the
effort this laugh had cost.
" Sire," said Rene, coolly, " the horoscope announces better
than that."
" Does it announce, that at the head of one of these armies I
shall gain battles ?"
" Better than that, sire."
"Well, then," said Henry, "at all events I shall be aeon-
queror."
" Sire, you will be Jung /"
" Eh, ventre-saint-gris /" said Henry, repressing a violent palpi-
tation of the heart; "am I not so already ?"
"Sire, my friend knows what he promises; not only will you
be king, but you will reign."
" And then," said Henry, in the same strain of raillery, " your
friend requires ten golden crowns, does he not, Rene ? for such
a prophecy, in such times, is indeed an ambitious one. Well,
well, Rene, I am not rich, so I will give your friend five at once,
and the other five when the prophecy shall be realized."
"Sire," said Rene, " allow me to proceed."
"What, is not that all?" said Henry. "Well, if I am an
emperor, I will give double."
"Sire, my friend came from Florence with his horoscope,
which he has renewed in Paris', and which gives again the same
result; and he has confided the secret to me."
" A secret that concerns his majesty ?" inquired Charlotte,
eagerly.
" 1' believe so," replied the Florentine.
" Then say it," answered the Baroness de Sauve. "What
is it?".
" It is," said the Florentine, weighing each of his words well;
" it is in reference to the reports of poisoning which have
been circulated for some time at court."
A slight expansion of the nostrils was the only indication
which the King of Na varre exhibited of his increased attention
at the sudden change in the conversation.
" And does your friend, the Florentine," inquired the king,
" know anything of these poisonings ?"
"Yes,'sire."
"SIRE, YOU WILL BE KING f
183
" How can you confide to me a secret which is not your own,
Rene; and particularly when the secret is so important ?" in-
quired Henry, in the* most natural tone he could assume.
" My friend has some advice to ask of your majesty."
" Of me ?"
" What is there astonishing in this, sire ? When my friend
confided his secret to me, your majesty was the first chief of the
Calvinistic party, and M. de Conde the second."
"Well!" observed Henry.
" This friend hoped you would use your all-powerful influence
with the Prince de Conde to entreat him not to be hostile to-
wards him."
" Explain yourself, Rene, if you would have me comprehend
you," replied Henry, without manifesting the least alteration in
his features or voice.
" Sire, your majesty will comprehend at the first word ; this
friend knows all the particulars of the attempt to poison Mon-
seigneur the Prince de Conde."
" What ! did they attempt to poison the Prince de Conde ?"
exclaimed Henry, with well-acted surprise. " Indeed ! and when
was that ?"
Rene looked steadfastly at the king, and replied in these
words only:
Eight days since, your majesty."
" Some enemy?" inquired the king.
" Yes," replied Rene ; " an enemy whom your majesty knows,
and who knows your majesty."
" Yes, now I remember," said Henry ; " I must have heard
talk of this, but I forget the details, which your friend would
disclose to me, you say."
" Well, a scented apple was offered to the Prince de Conde,
but fortunately- his physician was there when it was brought to
him : he took it from the messenger, and smelt it. Two days
afterwards a gangrenous humour formed in his face; then an
extravasation of blood, and then a cancerous sore which ate into
his cheeks, were the price of his devotion or the result of his
imprudence."
"Unfortunately, being already half a Catholic," answered
Henry, " I have lost all my influence over M. de Conde,
and therefore your friend would gain nothing by addressing
me."
" It was not only with M. de Conde that your majesty might,
184
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
by your influence, be useful to ray friend, but with the Prince de
Porcian, brother of him who was poisoned."
" What!" observed the king, " do you also know the details
of the poisoning of the Prince de Porcian ?"
" Yes," was the reply. " They knew that he burnt every night
a lamp near his bed ; they poisoned the oil, and he was stifled
with the odour."
Henry clenched his moistened palms together with rage.
" Thus then," he replied, " he whom you term your friend,
knows not only the details of this poisoning, but the author of
it also ?"
" Yes ; and that is why he wished to ascertain from you, if
you had sufficient influence with the Prince de Porcian to induce
him to pardon the murderer of his brother ?"
"Unfortunately," replied Henry, "being still half Huguenot
I have no influence over the Prince de Porcian ; he was wrong,
therefore, to address me."
" But what do you think of the inclinations of the Prince de
Conde and M. de Porcian ?"
" How can I tell their inclinations, Rene? God has not,
that I know, given me the privilege of reading hearts."
" Your majesty may ask yourself the question," said the
Florentine, calmly ; " has there not been in your majesty's life
some event so gloomy, that it may serve as an example of
clemency—so painful, that it may be a touchstonefor generosity?"
These words were pronounced in a tone that made Charlotte
shudder. The allusion was so direct, so manifest, that the
young lady turned aside to hide her flushed face, and avoid
Henry's look.
Henry made a powerful effort over himself, smoothed his
brow, which, during the Florentine's address, had been heavy
with menace, and changing the deep filial grief which weighed
upon his heart into an air of vague reflection, said :
" In my life—a gloomy event!—no, Rene—no ; I only re-
collect the folly and recklessness of my youth mixed with those
fatalities, more or less cruel, which are inflicted on all the frail-
ties of nature, and the trials of God."
Rene mastered himself, in his turn, and turned his glance
from Henry to Charlotte, as if to excite the one and restrain
the other—for Charlotte, going towards her toilet to conceal
the feelings inspired by this conversation, again extended her
hand towards the box of salve.
" SIRE, YOU WILL BE KING I" 185
" But if, sire, you were the brother of the Prince de Porcian,
or the brother of the Prince de Conde', and your brother had
been poisoned, or your father assassinated ?"
Charlotte uttered a cry, and again was about to apply the
salve to her lips. Rene saw this, but neither stopped her by
word nor gesture ; he only said, hastily :
" In the name of heaven, sire, reply ! Sire, if you were in
their place, what would you do ?"
Henry collected himself; wiped, with tremulous hand, his
forehead bedewed with drops of cold perspiration, and elevating
his figure to its full height, replied in the midst of the breathless
silence of Rene and Charlotte :
" If I were in their place, and were sure of being king—that
is to say, of representing God on earth—I would do like God,
and forgive!"
" Madame," exclaimed Rene, snatching the salve from
Madame de Sauve's hands; " madame, give me that box ! I
see my assistant made a mistake in bringing it to you; to-
morrow I will send you another."
CHAPTER XXIII.
a new convert.
On the following day there was to be a hunt in the forest of St.
Germain. Henry had desired that there should be kept ready,
at eight o'clock in the morning, saddled and bridled, a small
horse of the Beam breed, which he intended as a present for
Madame de Sauve, but which he first intended to try himself.
The horse was duly brought; and as the clock struck eight,
Henry descended.
The horse, full of breed and fire, in spite of its small size,
was plunging about in the courtyard. It was cold, and a slight
hoar frost covered the ground.
Henry was about to cross the courtyard, in order to reach the
stables, where the horse and his groom were waiting, when
passing before a Swiss soldier, who was on guard at the door,
the sentinel presented arms to him, saying:
" God preserve his Majesty the King of Navarre !"
At this wish, and particularly the accent and emphasis of the
voice that uttered it, the Be'arnais started, and retreated a step,
fluttering the words, " De Mouy 1"
i86
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"Yes, sire, Da Mouy."
" And what are you doing here ?"
" Seeking you."
" What would you ?"
" I must speak to your majesty !"
" Rash man !" said the king, going close to him, " do you
know that you risk your head ?"
'• I know it, and I am here."
Henry turned slightly pale, looked around him, and retreated
a second time no less quickly than before.
He saw the Due d'Alencon at a window.
Then, changing his air, Henry took the musket from De
Mouy, and appeared to be examining it.
" De Mouy," he said, " it is some very powerful motive that
makes you come thus to throw yourself into the wolfs throat."
" It is, sire, and for eight days I have been on the watch. It
was only yesterday I learned that your majesty meant to try
this horse this morning, and I took my post, accordingly, at this
door of the Louvre."
" Why under this costume ?"
" The captain of the company is a Protestant, and one of my
friends."
" Take your musket, and continue your guard. We are
watched. As I return, I will endeavour to say a word to you ;
but if I do not speak to you, do not stop me. Adieu!"
De Mouy resumed his measured tread, and Henry advanced
towards the horse.
" What is that pretty creature ?" inquired the Duke d'Alengon,
from his window.
" A horse I am going to try this morning."
" But it is not a man's horse."
" It is intended for a pretty woman."
" Be careful, Henry, or you will be indiscreet; for we shall
see this pretty woman at the chase, and if I do not know whose
chevalier you are, I shall at least learn whose esquire you
may be." ^
" Eh, mon Dieu ! you will not know," said Henry, with his
wonted laugh, " for this pretty woman being very unwell this
morning, she cannot ride to-day." And he sprung into the
saddle.
"Ah, bah !" said D'Alencon, laughing; "poor Madame de
Sauve!"
A NEW CON FEET.
187
"Francis ! Frangois— 'tis you who are indiscreet."
"And what ails the lovely Charlotte?" inquired the duke.
" Why," answered Henry, " I hardly know. A kind of heavi-
ness in the head, as Dariole informed me—a weakness in all
her limbs, a perfect languor."
"And will that prevent you from accompanying us?" in-
quired D'Aleiu^on.
"Why should it?" was Henry's reply. "You know how
madly I love a hunt, and that nothing would make me miss
one."
" You will miss this, however, Henry," replied the duke, as
he turned round, and after having spoken an instant with some
one whom Henry could not see, " for I learn from his majesty
that the chase cannot take place."
" Bah !" said Henry, with the most disappointed air in the
world ; " and why not ?"
" Very important letters have arrived from M. de Nevers, and
there is a council being held by the king, the queen-mother, and
my brother the Duke d'Anjou."
"Ah, ah !" said Henry to himself, " is there any news from
Poland?" Then he added, aloud : "In this case it is useless
for me to run any more risk on this slippery ground. An revoir!
brother." And pulling his horse up short by De Mouy, " My
friend," he said, "call one of your comrades to finish your
guard. Help the groom to take the saddle off my horse, put it
on your head, and carry it to the goldsmith of the royal stable ;
there is some embroidery to do to it, which he had not time
to finish. You can bring me back his answer."
De Mouy hastily obeyed, for the Duke d'Alengon had dis-
appeared from his window, and it was evident he had conceived
some suspicion. Scarcely, indeed, had the Huguenot chief left
the wicket than the duke appeared. A real Swiss had taken
De Mouy's place.
D'Alencon looked attentively at the fresh sentinel, then, turn-
ing to Henry :
" This is not the man with whom you were conversing just
now, is it, brother?"
"The other was a young fellow of my house, for whom I
obtained a post amongst the Swiss. I gave him a commission,
which he has gone to execute."
" Ah !" said the duke, as if satisfied with the answer ; " and
how is Marguerite ?"
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"I am just going to inquire, brother."
" Haven't you seen her since yesterday ?"
"No. I went last night at eleven o'clock; but Gillonne told
me she was much fatigued and asleep."
" You will not find her in her apartment. She has gone out."
" Yes," replied Henry, " most likely. She was going to the
Convent of the Annonciade."
There was no means of pushing the conversation further, as
Henry appeared determined only to reply.
The two brothers-in-law then separated—the Duke d'Alen^on
to go and hear the news, as he said, and the King of Navarre
to return to his apartment.
At the moment the two brothers-in-law separated, some one
knocked at the door of Henry's sleeping apartment. He opened
the door, gave admittance to De Mouy, and closed the door
after him.
" Sire," said De Mouy, " the time for action has arrived.
Fear nothing, sire—we are alone; and I will be quick, for time
is very precious. Your majesty may now, by a single word, re-
store to us all that we have lost for our holy religion during this
disastrous year. Let us be explicit, let us be brief, let us be frank."
" I listen, my gallant De Mouy," replied the king, seeing that
it was impossible any longer to avoid an explanation.
" Is it true that your majesty has abjured the Protestant re-
ligion ?"
"It is true," said Henry.
"Yes ; but is it an abjuration of the lips or of the heart?"
" We are always grateful to God when he has saved our life,"
replied Henry, not replying directly to the question ; " and God
has visibly spared me in a most cruel strait and danger."
" But, sire," continued De Mouy, " confess that yourabjura-
tion is not a matter of conviction but of calculation. You have
abjured that the king may let you live, and not because God has
spared your life."
" Whatever may be the cause of my conversion, De Mouy,"
answered Henry, " I am not the less a Catholic."
" Yes ; but shall you always continue one? Should an occa-
sion present itself, would you not relapse ? Well, this occasion
presents itself at this moment: Rochelle is insurgent; Rous-
sillon and Beam only await the signal to act, and in Guienne
all is ripe for revolt. Only avow that you were a Catholic op
compulsion, and I will answer for all the rest,"
A NEW CONVERT.
189
" My dear De Mouy, a gentleman of my birth is never forced ;
what I have done, I have done freely."
" But, sire," continued the young man, his heart oppressed at
this unexpected resistance; " you do not reflect that in thus
abandoning us, you betray us."
Henry remained perfectly unmoved.
"Yes," De Mouy continued ; "you betray us, sire ; for very
many of us have come, at the peril of our lives, to save your
honour and liberty. We have prepared everything to give you
a throne, sire ; not only liberty, but power; a throne for your
acceptance j for, in two months, you may choose between
France and Navarre."
" De Mouy," replied Henry, looking downwards for an instant
to conceal the joy that sparkled in his eyes ; " De Mouy, I am
safe ; lama Catholic; I am the husband of Marguerite ; I am
the brother of King Charles ; I am son-in-law of my good
mother Catherine ; and when, De Mouy, I took all these rela-
tions upon me, I not only calculated the chances, but also the
obligations."
" But, sire," replied De Mouy, " what am I to believe ? They
say that your marriage is incomplete ; they say you are free in
your own heart; they say that Catherine's hatred "
" Lies, lies, lies all!" interrupted the Bearnais, hastily ; " you
have been impudently deceived, my friend. My dearest Mar-
guerite is indeed my wife : Catherine is truly my mother; the
King Charles IX. is really the lord and master of my life and of
my heart."
De Mouy started, and a smile almost contemptuous passed
over his lips.
"Then, sire," said he, endeavouring by his look to fathom a
mind so full of concealment; " this is the answer I shall bear
to my brothers in arms. I shall say that the King of Navarre ex-
tends his hand and gives his heart to those who cut our throats ;
I shall say that he has become the flatterer of the queen-mother,
and the friend of Maurevel."
" My dear De Mouy," was Henry's response, " the king is
just breaking up the council; and I must go and learn what are
the important reasons which have postponed the hunt. Adieu !
imitate me, my friend : renounce politics, swear allegiance to
the king, and take the mass." And Henry led, or rather pushed
the young man to the door of his antechamber, whilst De
Mouy's amazement was fast giving way to rage.
190 MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
Scarcely was the door closed, than, unable to resist his desire
of visiting his vengeance on something for want of somebody^
De Mouy squeezed his hat between his hands, threw it On the
ground, and trampling it under foot, as a bull does the cloak of
a matador :
" S'death !" he cried ; " he is a cowardly prince, and I have
a great mind to kill myself on this very spot, that my blood
may for ever stain him and his name."
" Hush ! M. de Mouy," said a voice which came from behind
a half-opened door; " hush ! or some one else will hear you
besides myself."
De Mouy turned round suddenly, and perceived the Duke
d'Alengon enveloped in his mantle, and thrusting his pale face
into the corridor to ascertain if he and De Mouy were really
alone.
" The Duke d'Alengon !" cried De Mouy; " then I am lost!"
" On the contrary," said the prince, in a subdued tone, "you
have perchance found that which you have been seeking ; and,
in proof of this, I would not have you kill yourself here, as you
propose. Believe me, your blood may be better employed than
in reddening the threshold of the King of Navarre."
And, at these words, the duke opened wide the door of the
chamber which had been hitherto ajar.
" This chamber belongs to two of my gentlemen," said the
duke ; " and no one will come to seek you here. So we may
converse at our ease. Come hither, then, sir."
" I am at your royal highness' service," said the amazed con-
spirator, and he entered the chamber, the duke closing the door
after him quickly and securely.
De Mouy entered, furious, enraged, and desperate; but gra-
dually the cold and steady gaze of the young Duke Frangois
had the effect on the young Huguenot captain that ice has upon
intoxication.
" M. de Mouy," said Frangois, " I thought I recognised you
in spite of your disguise, as you presented arms to my brother
Henry. What, De Mouy, are not you satisfied with the King
of Navarre ?"
" Monseigneur !"
" Come, come ! speak frankly to me ; and perhaps you may
find I am your friend."
" You, monseigneur !"
" Yes, I; but speak."
A NEW CONVERT.
" I know not what to say to your highness ; what I had to
tell the King of Navarre touched on interests impossible to be
understood by you; besides," added De Mouy, " it was about
trifles after all."
" Trifles !" exclaimed the duke.
" Yes, monseigneur."
" Trifles ! when for this you have exposed your life by re-
turning to the Louvre, when you well know your head is worth
its weight in gold ? For it is well known that you, like the
King of Navarre and the Prince de Conde, are one of the prin-
cipal leaders of the Huguenots."
" If you think so, monseigneur, act towards me as the brother
of Charles the king, and the son of Catherine the queen-mother,
should act."
" Why would you have me act so, when I tell you I am your
friend? Tell me but the truth, and "
" Monseigneur, I swear to you "
" Do not swear, sir; the Reformed religion forbids oaths, and
especially false oaths."
De Mouy frowned.
" I tell you I know all," continued the duke.
De Mouy was still silent.
" Do you doubt it ?" proceeded the prince, with earnestness.
"Well, then, my dear De Mouy, I must convince you, and you
will see if I speak sooth or not. Have you, or not, proposed
to my brother-in-law, Henry, there, just now," and the duke ex-
tended his hand towards Henry's apartments ; " your aid, and
that of your allies, to re-establish him in his kingdom of Na-
varre ?"
De Mouy looked at the duke in amazement.
" Propositions which he refused in alarm "
De Mouy remained stupefied with surprise.
" Did you not, then, invoke your ancient friendship—the
remembrance of your common religion ? Did you not, then,
seek to lure on the King of Navarre by a very brilliant hope
and prospect—so brilliant that he was dazzled at it—the hope
of attaining even the crown of France ? Eh ! am I, or not,
well informed ? Was it not this you came to propose to the
Bearnais ?"
"Monseigneur," exclaimed De Mouy, "it is so precisely all
that occurred, that I ask myself at this moment, whether I ought
net to say to your highness that you lie ! provoke you in this
192
MARGVEklTE DE VA LOIS.
very chamber to a combat, and seek in the death of one of us
the extinction of this terrible secret."
" Gently, my brave De Mouy, gently," replied D'Alengon,
without changing countenance, or making the slightest motion
at this menace; " this secret will be better kept between us two,
if we both live, than if one of us were to die. Listen to me,
and do not thus grip the handle of your sword; for the third
time I tell you, you are with a friend ; reply, then, as to a friend.
Tell me, did not the King of Navarre refuse your offers ?"
" He did, my lord, and I confess it, because the avowal can
compromise no one but myself."
"And are you still of the same opinion you were when you
quitted my brother Henry's chamber, and said he was a cowardly
prince, and unworthy any longer to remain your leader?"
" I am, monseigneur, and more so than ever."
"Well, then, M. de Mouy, am I, the third son of Henry II.
—I, a son of France—am I good enough to command your
soldiers ? Let us see. Do you think me so loyal that you rely
on my word ?"
"You, monseigneur ! you the chief of the Huguenots?"
" Why not ? This is the epoch of conversions, as you know,
and if Henry has become a Catholic, why may not I turn Pro-
testant ?"
" Unquestionably, monseigneur; but perhaps you will explain
to me "
" Nothing more simple; I will unfold to you, in two words,
everybody's politics. My brother Charles kills the Huguenots,
that he may reign more absolutely. My brother D'Anjou lets
him kill them, that he may succeed my brother Charles, and as
you know, my brother Charles is often ill. But I—it is very
different with me, who will never reign over France ; at least, I
have two elder brothers before me ; with me, whom the hatred
of my mother and brothers, more even than the law of nature,
alienates from the throne—with me, who see before me no
family affection, no glory, no kingdom—with me, who yet have
a heart as noble as my brothers ; and therefore I, De Mouy,
would fain cut myself out a throne with my sword in this
France which they are staining with gore ! And this is what I
would do, De Mouy—listen : I would be King of Navarre, not
by right of birth, but by election ; and observe well, you can
have no objection to make me so, for I am no usurper; my
brother refuses your offers, and, buried in torpor, declares
A NEW CONVERT.,
m
openly that this kingdom of Navarre is but a fiction. With
Henry of Beam, you have nothing now in common ; with me
you may have a sword and a name. Francois d'Alenqon, son of
France, can protect all his companions or accomplices, as
you may please to call them.—Well, then 1 what say you to
this offer, M. de Mouy ?"
" I say it perfectly bewilders me, monseigneur."
" De Mouy, De Mouy, we shall have many obstacles to over-
come ; do not, then, show yourself so scrupulous and difficult
with the son of a king, and the brother of a king, who comes
to you."
" Monseigneur, the thing should be done at once, if I were
the only person to decide ; but we have a council, and how
brilliant soever may be the offer, perhaps the leaders will not
accede to it without a condition."
" This is another consideration, and the reply is that of an
honest heart and a prudent mind. By the way in which I have
acted, De Mouy, you must see that I am frank and honour-
able; treat me, then, on your part, like a man you esteem, and
not a prince whom you would flatter. De Mouy, have I any
chance ?"
"On my word, monseigneur, and since your highness desires
to have my opinion, you shall have every chance, since the
King of Navarre refuses the offer I have just made him. But
I repeat to you, monseigneur, it is indispensable that I have a
consultation with our leaders."
" Of course, sir," was D'Alengon's reply; " only when shall I
have the answer ?"
De Mouy considered the prince with silent attention, and
then coming to a resolution, said :
" Monseigneur, give me your hand ; it is necessary that the
hand of a son of France should touch mine, to be sure I shall
not be betrayed."
The duke not only extended his hand to De Mouy, but
seized his, and clasped it in his own.
" Now, monseigneur, I am assured," said the young Hugue-
not; " if we were betrayed, I should acquit you of all partici-
pation; without which, monseigneur, however little you were
concerned in such treachery, you would be dishonoured."
" Why do you say that, De Mouy, before you have brought
me even the reply of your chiefs ?"
" Because, monseigneur, when you desire to know when the
13
194
MARGUERITE DE VALOlS.
answer shall be given, you ask me in that question, where Oiir
leaders are ; and if I replied, ' This evening,' you would know
that the chiefs were concealed in Paris."
And as he said these words, with a gesture of distrust, De
Mouy fixed his piercing eye on the face of the false and vacil-
lating young prince.
" What, you have still your doubts, De Mouy ; but yet what
right have I to your confidence at a first interview ? You will
know me better by-and-by. You say this evening, then, M. de
Moiiy ?"
"Yes, monseigneur, for time presses. This evening. But
where ?"
" Here, in the Louvre; in this apartment, if that suits you."
" This apartment is occupied."
"By two of my gentlemen."
" Monseigneur, it seems to me imprudent to return to the
Louvre."
" Wherefore ?"
' Because others may recognise me as well as your highness.
Yet, if you will accord me a safe conduct, I will return to the
Louvre."
" De Mouy," replied the duke, " my safe conduct, seized on
your person, would destroy me, and would not save you; I
cannot. The least evidence of concert between us, before my
mother or brothers, would cost me my life. Make, therefore,
another trial of your own courage. I will guarantee your safety,
and try on my word what you tried without my brother's word.
Come to the Louvre this evening."
" But how ?"
"1 think I see the means before me—here."
And the duke saw on the bed La Mole's dress spread out—
a magnificent cherry-coloured cloak, embroidered with gold, a
lint with a white plume, surrounded by a string of pearls, with
gold and silver between them, and a grey satin doublet worked
with gold.
" Do you see this cloak, feather, and doublet ?" said the duke.
" They belong to M. de la Mole, one of my gentlemen, and a
fop of the first water. This dress creates quite a sensation at
court, and M. de la Mole is recognised a hundred yards off
when he wears it. I will give you his tailor's address, and, by
paying him double the va'ue. he will bring you a similar suit
this evening. Remember the name—M. de la Mole."
A NEW CONVERT.
195
The duke had scarcely done speaking, when a step was heard
of some one approaching, and a key was turned in the lock of
the door.
" Who's there ?" inquired the duke, hastening towards the
door, which he secured with the bolt.
" Pardieu /" replied a voice from without, " that is a very
odd question ; who are you ? It is rather pleasant, i' faith, to
come to one's own room and be asked, Who's there ?"
" Oh ! 'tis you, M. de la Mole ?"
" Of course it is. But who are you ?"
D'Alen9on turned round suddenly, and said to De Mouy,
" Do you know M. de la Mole ?"
" No, monseigneur."
" Does he know you ?"
" I should say, no."
" Then all will go well. Just appear to be looking out of
window."
De Mouy obeyed, and the duke opening the door, La Mole
entered hastily, but when he saw the Duke he retreated, sur-
prised, and saying :
" Monseigneur the duke ! Your pardon—your pardon, mon-
seigneur!"
" It needs not, sir; I wished to see a person, and made use
of your apartment."
" Pray do, monseigneur. But allow me to take my cloak and
hat, for I lost both last night on the Quai de la Greve."
"Really ! You must have had an encounter with some de-
termined robbers, then ?"
The duke handed the young gentleman the desired articles,
and La Mole retired to dress himself in the antechamber. On
his return in a few moments :
" Has your highness heard or seen anything of the Cornte de
Coconnas?'' he asked.
"No, M. le Comte; and yet he should have been on duty
this morning."
" Then they have murdered him !" said La Mole to himself,
as he made his obeisance and rushed out again.
The duke listened to his retreating footsteps, and then open-
ing the door, said to De Mouy :
" Look at him, and try to imitate his easy and peculiar gesture."
"I will do my best," replied De Mouy; "unfortunately, I
am not a fine gentleman, but only a soldier."
13—2
196 MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" I shall expect you before midnight, here, or in some un-
occupied apartment To-night, before midnight."
" To-night, before midnight!" _ ■
"Ah! apropos—De Mouy, swing your right arm as you
walk ; it is a peculiarity of M. de la Mole."
CHAPTER XXIV.
the rue tizon and the rue cloche-percee.
La Mole ran out of the Louvre, and went in search of poor
Coconnas.
First he went to the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, to Maitre la Huriere;
but he found nothing there but breakfast, to which, despite his
inquietude, he did ample justice.
His appetite appeased, La Mole went along the Seine. Ar-
rived at the Quai de la Greve, he recognised the spot where he
had been stopped three or four hours before, and found on the
field of battle a fragment of his hat-plume. La Mole had ten
feathers, each handsomer than the other; he stopped, never-
theless,to pick up this, orrather the only fragment that remained
of it, and was looking at it with a piteous air, when anauthori-
tative voice bade him stand aside. La Mole looked up, and
perceived a litter, preceded by two pages, and followed by a
squire. La Mole thought he recognised the litter, and stood
on one side.
He was not mistaken.
" M. de la Mole ?" said a sweet voice from the litter, whilst
a hand, white and soft as satin, put aside the curtains.
"Yes, 'tis I myself, madame," replied La Mole, bowing.
" M. de la Mole, with a plume in his hand ?" said the lady.
" Are you in love, then, and seek here lost traces of your
mistress ?"
" Yes, madame," returned La Mole, " I am in love, and to
desperation. As for these relics, they are my own, though not
those I seek. But permit me to inquire after your majesty's
health."
" Excellent—never better; probably from the circumstance
of my having passed the night in a convent."
" Ah, in a convent !" said La Mole, looking at Marguerite
with a singular expression.
THE RUE TIZON AND THE RUE CLOCHE-PERCEE. 197
" Yes; what is there so astonishing in that ?"
" May I venture to inquire, in what convent ?"
" Certainly ; I make no mystery of it: at the convent of the
Annunciation. But what are you doing here, with so wild an
air ?"
" Madame, I am looking for a friend; and in his place I find
this plume."
" Which belongs to him ? You really alarm me for him; the
spot has an ill name."
" Your majesty may be reassured; the plume is mine : I
lost it here this morning, at about half-past five, in escaping from
four bandits who attacked me."
Marguerite suppressed an exclamation of terror.
" Oh, tell me all about it!"
" A simple matter, madame. It was as I said, about half-
past five "
" And at half-past five you were already out ?"
" Nay, madame, I had not yet gone home."
" Ah !" said Marguerite, with a smile that to every one else
would have seemed malicious, but which La Mole thought
adorable ; " returning home so late ! You are rightly served."
" I do not complain, your majesty," said La Mole; " and had
I been killed, I should have thought myself far happier than I
merit. But as I was returning, four scoundrels rushed on me,
armed with long knives, and I was fain to fly, for I had left my
sword in the house where I had passed the night."
" Oh, I understand," said Marguerite, with an exquisite air of
simplicity; " you are going to fetch your sword."
La Mole looked at Marguerite, doubtingly :
" Madame," said he, " I should be glad to return thither, for
my sword is an excellent blade ; but I do not know where the
house is."
" What !" said Marguerite, " you do not know where tho
house is ?"
" No j Satan exterminate me, if I have the least idea."
" How very strange ! Quite a romance, upon my word."
" Quite so, madame."
" Relate it to me."
" It is somewhat long."
"No matter, I have plenty of lime."
"And very incredible."
"Go on, I am excessively credulous,"
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS.
" Your majesty commands me ?"
"Yes, if necessary."
"I obey : last night we supped at Maitre la Hurifcre's."
" First and foremost," asked Marguerite, with a beautiful
simplicity, " who is Maitre la Huriere ?"
" Maitre la Huriere, madame," answered La Mole, with
another look of doubt at the Queen, " is the landlord of the
Belle Etoile, in the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec."
"Ah, I understand ; well, you were supping at La Huribre's,
with your friend Coconnas, no doubt ?"
" Yes, madame, with my friend Coconnas; when a man
entered, and gave each of us a billet."
" Alike ?"
" Exactly."
" And which contained "
" But one line :
" ' You are waited for in the Rue Saint Antoine, opposite the
Rue de Jouyl"
" And no signature ?"
" None, but three words, three delicious words, that
promised a triple happiness."
" And what were these three words ?"
" Eros, Cupido, Amor."
" Three soft, pretty names, by my faith; and did they fulfil
what they promised ?"
" Oh, yes, madame," cried La Mole, with enthusiasm, " a
hundred-fold !"
" Continue. I am anxious to know what awaited you at the
Rue Saint Antoine."
" Two duennas who stipulated that our eyes should be band-
aged. Your majesty may imagine we made no great difficulty.
My guide led me to the right, my friend's led him to the left."
"And then ?" asked Marguerite.
" I do not know where they took my friend ; perhaps to the
infernal regions," said La Mole; " but I was taken to Paradise."
" And whence your too great inquisitiveness no doubt got
you expelled."
" Exactly so : your majesty has the gift of divination. I
waited until day should come to show me where I was, when
the duenna entered, blindfolded me again, and led me away, out
of the house, and some hundred paces on, and then made me
promise not to take off the bandage till I had counted fifty. I
THE RUE T1Z0N AND THE RUE CLOCHE-PERCEE. 199
counted fifty, and then, on taking off the handkerchief, found
myself in the Rue St. Antoine, opposite the Rue de Jouy. On
returning here, just now, I perceived a fragment of my plume,
which I shall preserve as a precious relic of this glorious night.
But amidst my happiness, one thing disquiets me : what can
have become of my friend ?"
" He is not at the Louvre, then ?"
" Alas, no ; and I have sought him at the Belle Etoile, at the
tennis court, and everywhere, but there is no Annibal to be
found."
As he said this, and accompanied his lamentation by throw-
ing up his arms, La Mole disclosed his doublet, which was torn
and cut in several places.
"Why, you have been completely riddled !" said Marguerite,
" Riddled—that is the exact word," said La Mole, not sorry
to make the most of the danger he had incurred.
" Why did you not change your doublet at the Louvre,
rvhen you got back ?"
" Why," said La Mole, " because there was some one in my
chamber."
" How, some one in your .chamber ?" said Marguerite, whose
eyes expressed the greatest astonishment. " Who ?"
" His highness "
" Hush !" said Marguerite.
The young man obeyed.
" Qui ad lecticam meam stant?"—("Who are with the litter ?")
" Duo pueri et unus eques." — (" Two pages and a groom ?")
" Optime barbari," said she. " Die, Moles, quern inveneris
in cubiculo tuo ?"—(" Good ; they won't understand us. Tell
me, La Mole, whom did you find in your chamber?")
" Franciscum ducem."—(" Duke Francis.")
"Agentem."—("What was he doing?")
"Nescio quid."—(" I don't know.")
" Quo cum ?"—(" Who was with him ?")
"Cum ignoto."—("A man I don't know.")
"Singular," said Marguerite. " So you have not found Co-
connas ?"
" No, madame, and I am dying with anxiety."
" Well," said Marguerite, " I will not further delay your
search ; but I have an idea he will be found before long. But
nevertheless, go and look for him."
And the queen placed her linger on her lip. Now, as Mar-
20O
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
guerite had not communicated any secret to La Mole, he com-
preh ended that this charming sign must have another meaning.
The cortege pursued its way ; and La Mole proceeded along
the quay, till he came to the Rue du Long-Pont, which took
him into the Rue Saint Antoine.
He stopped opposite the Rue de Jouy.
It was there, the previous evening, that the duennas had
blindfolded Coconnas and himself; he well remembered he had
turned to the right and counted twenty paces ; he did so again,
and found himself opposite a house, or rather a wall, with a
house in it: in the middle of the wall was a door studded with
large nails.
The house was in the Rue Cloche-Perce'e, a little narrow
street that commences in the Rue St. Antoine, and ends in the
Rue du Roi-de-Sicile.
" Sangbleu /" said La Mole. " This is it: as I left the house,
I touched the nails, and as I descended the second step, that
man who was killed in the Rue du Roi-de-Sicile, passed, crying
for help."
La Mole knocked at the door. A porter with a vast: mous-
tache opened it.
"Was est dass?" said he.—("What's that?")
" Ah," said La Mole to himself, " we are German, it seems.
My friend," continued he, " I want my sword, which I left here
last night."
" Ich verstehe nicht," said the porter.—(" I don't understand
you.")
" My sword "
" Ich verstehe nicht."
" That I left "
" Ich verstehe nicht."
" In this house, where I passed the nigh
" Gehe zum Teufel."—(" Go to the devil !")
And he shut the door in his face.
" Mordieu /" said La Mole, " had I my sword, I would pass it
through your body."
La Mole then struck into the Rue du Roi-de-Sicile, turned to
the right, counted fifty paces, turned to the right again, and
found himself in the Rue Tizon, a little street parallel with the
Rue Cloche-Percee, and exactly like it. Scarcely had he taken
thirty steps when he found the little door studded with nails, the
narrow loopholes, the two steps and the wall.
THE RUE TIZON AND THE RUE CLOCHE-PERCEE. 201
La Mole then reflected that he might have mistaken his right
for his left, and he knocked at this door, but spite of his
reiterated attempts, no one came. He walked round the same
way several times, and then arrived at the natural conclusion,
that the house had two entrances, one in the Rue Tizon, the
other, Rue Cloche-Percee. But this logical reasoning did not
give him back his sword, or his friend.
He had for an instant an idea of purchasing another rapier,
and pinking the porter ; but he was checked by the reflection,
that if he belonged to Marguerite, she, doubtless, had her
reasons for selecting him, and would be vexed were she deprived
of him.
Now La Mole would not for the world have done anything to
vex Marguerite.
To avoid the temptation, he returned to the Louvre.
This time his apartment was empty ; and being in no small
haste to change his pourpoint, which was somewhat dilapidated,
he hastened to the bed to take down his fine grey satin doublet,
when, to his intense amazement, he saw hanging beside it the
identical sword he had left in the Rue Cloche-Percee. He took
it and examined it: it was indeed the same.
" Ah, ah !" said he, " there is some magic in this." Then, with
a sigh r "Ah, if Coconnas would come back like this sword !"
Two or three hours afterwards, the door in the Rue Tizon
opened. It was five o'clock, and consequently dark.
A female enveloped in a long furred mantle, accompanied
by a servant, came out of the door, glided rapidly into the
Rue du Roi-de-Sicile, knocked at a little door of the Hotel
D'Argenson, entered the hotel, left it again by the great gate
that opens into the Vieille Rue du Temple, reached a private
door of the Hotel de Guise, opened it with a pass-key, and dis-
appeared.
Half an hour afterwards, a young man, his eyes bandaged,
came out of the same door of the same house, led by an old
woman, who took him to the corner of the Rue Geoffroy-Las-
nier and De la Mortellerie. There she bade him count fifty
paces, and then take off the handkerchief.
The young man complied scrupulously with these directions,
and at the prescribed number took off the bandage.
" Morrfi /" cried he, " I'll be hanged if I know where I am !
Six o'clock ! Why, where can La Mole be ? I'll run to the
Louvre ; I shall perhaps hear of him there."
202
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
So saying, Coconnas started off, and arrived at the Louvre
in less time ihan a horse would have performed the distance.
He questioned the Swiss and the sentinel. The Swiss thought
he had seen M. de la Mole go out, but he had not seen him
return. The sentinel had only been on guard an hour and a
half, and had seen nothing.
Coconnas ascended the stair's, entered La Mole's room, and
found nothing but his torn doublet, which redoubled his
anxiety.
He then betook himself to La Huriere's. La Huriere had
seen M. la Mole—M. de la Mole had breakfasted there.
Re-assured by these tidings, Coconnas ordered supper, which
occupied him until eight o'clock, when, recruited by a good
meal and two bottles of wine, he again started in search of his
friend.
For an hour Coconnas traversed the streets near the Quai
de la Reve, the Rue St. Antoine, and the Rues Tizon and
Cloche-Percee.
At last he returned to the Louvre, determined to watch under
the gate there until La Mole's return.
He was not a hundred paces from the Louvre, and was
assisting a female to rise, whose husband he had upset just
before, when, by the light of a large lamp, he perceived the
cherry-velvet mantle and white plume of his friend, which, like
a ghost, disappeared beneath the portal of the Louvre.
The cherry-coloured mantle was too well known to be for
an instant mistaken.
" Mordi!" cried Coconnas : "it is he at last! Eh, La Mole !
Why does he not answer ? Fortunately my legs are as good as
my voice."
He dashed after Cherry Mantle, but only in time to see
him, as he entered the court, disappear in the vestibule.
" La Mole !" cried Coconnas ; " stop ! stop ! why are you in
such haste ?"
Cherry Mantle mounted the second story as if he had wings.
"Ah, you are^ angry with me. Well, I can go no further."
Coconnas ceased the pursuit, but followed with his eyes the
fugitive, who now arrived at the apartments of the Queen of
Navarre: suddenly, a female appeared, and took Cherry Mantle
by the hand.
" Oh," said Coconnas, " that's Queen Marguerite; now I
know why he would not wait."
THE RUE T1Z0N AND THE RUE CLOCHE-PERCEE. 203
After a few whispered words, Cherry Mantle followed the
queen into her apartments.
"Good!" said Coconnas. " There are times when your best
friend is in the way : this is one, and I'll not interrupt the old
fellow."
So Coconnas sat down on a bench covered with velvet.
"I'll stop here for him—or stay, he's with the queen, and I
may stop long enough. It's confounded cold here, and I may
just as well wait for him in his room ; he must come there at
last."
At this moment he heard a quick step on the stairs above,
and a voice singing a little air so usual in La Mole's mouth
that Coconnas looked up. It was La Mole himself, who per-
ceiving the Piedmontese, ran down the stairs four at a time,
and threw himself into his arms.
" Mordi! here you are ! said Coconnas. "Which way did
you come out ?"
" Why, by the Rue Cloc.he-Percee.'
"No. I don't mean there "
"Whence then ?"
" From the queen.
" From the queen !"
" Ay, from the queen."
"I have not been with her."
" Come ! come !"
" My dear Annibal," said La Mole, " I've this instant left
my room, where I've been awaiting for you these two hours."
"You've just left your room ?"
" Yes."
" It was not you I ran after from the Place du Louvre ?"
"When?"
"Just now.
"No."
" It wasn't you that disappeared under the gateway ten
minutes ago ?"
"No."
" It wasn't you that dashed up the stairs as if the devil was
after you ?"
" No."
" Mordi H replied Coconnas. " The wine of la Belle Etoile
has not turned my head to that extent. I tell you, 1 saw your
mantle and white plume enter the Louvre; that I followed the
204
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
one and the other to the bottom of this staircase, and then saw
the said mantle and plume led by a lady into that room, which
I believe is Madame Marguerite's."
"MordieuF exclaimed La Mole, turning very pale. "Can
there be treachery already!"
" Ah, swear as much as you like," returned Coconnas, " but
don't tell me I was mistaken."
La Mole hesitated an instant, and then, carried away by his
jealousy, rushed to the queen's door, and knocked furiously.
"You'll get us both arrested," said Coconnas. "Mordi!
do you think there are ghosts at the Louvre, La Mole ?"
"I do not know," said the young man; "but I've always
wanted to see one, and would fain find myself face to face with
this ghost, if ghost he be."
"Very good," said Coconnas ; " but don't knock so loud, or
you'll alarm the lady."
Enraged as La Mole was, he yet saw the justice of this
observation ; and though he continued to knock, knocked less
violently.
CHAPTER XXV.
cherry mantle.
Coconnas was not deceived. The lady who had stopped the
cavalier in the cherry mantle, was indeed the Queen of Navarre ;
the cavalier in the cherry mantle was, as our readers have
doubtlessly guessed, no other than De Mouy.
On recognising the Queen of Navarre, the young man saw
there was some mistake, but he feared to say anything, lest a
cry from the queen should betray him. He therefore suffered
himself to be led into the apartment, resolved, once there, to
say to his fair guide, " Silence for silence, madame."
Marguerite had gently pressed the arm of him whom, in the
darkness, she mistook for La Mole, and whispered in his ear,
in Latin: N
" I am alone ; come in, dearest."
De Mouy entered in silence; but scarcely was he in the
antechamber, and the door closed, than Marguerite perceived
that it was not La Mole, and she then uttered that very cry
which the prudent Huguenot had dreaded.
' M. de Mouy !" cried she
CHERRY MANTLE.
" Mys'elf, madame," returned the young man; " and I entreat
your majesty to suffer me to proceed, without informing any
one of my presence at the Louvre."
" Oh, M. de Mouy," said the queen, " I was mistaken, then."
" Yes, so I comprehend," returned De Mouy; "your majesty
mistook me for the King of Navarre. My dress is the same as
his, and my height and figure, I have been told, are not
unlike his."
Marguerite looked fixedly at him.
" Do you know Latin ?" asked she.
" I did once, but I have forgotten it," replied the young man.
Marguerite smiled.
"You may rely upon my discretion, M. de Mouy; and as I
think I know the person you seek, I will, if you so please,
conduct you to him."
" Madame," replied De Mouy, " I see that you are mistaken,
and that you are completely ignorant who the person is that I
wish to see."
" What!" cried Marguerite, " is it not the King of Navarre
you seek ?"
" Alas, madame, it is with regret I have to beseech you to
conceal my presence in the Louvre from the king your husband."
" M. de Mouy," said Marguerite, " I have always considered
you one of the steadiest partisans of my husband, one of the
most zealous Huguenot leaders. Am I, then, mistaken?"
" No, madame, for I was, up to this morning, all that you say."
" And why have you changed ?"
" Madame," returned De Mouy, " I entreat you to excuse
my replying, and to receive my adieu."
And De Mouy firmly, but respectfully, proceeded towards
the door.
Marguerite stopped him.
" Yet, sir," said she, " I would fain request an explanation."
" Madame," returned De Mouy, " my duty bids me be silent;
I need hardly say, that duty is an imperious one which prevents
my obeying your majesty."
« Yet, sir "
"Your majesty can ruin me, but you cannot require me to
betray my new friends."
" Have your old friends no claims on you ?"
" Those who have remained faithful, yes; those who not only
have abandoned us, but have abandoned themselves, no."
2o6
MARGUERITE DE VALOlS.'
Marguerite, greatly uneasy, was about to pursue her interro-
gatories, when Gillonne rushed in.
" The King of Navarre, .madame !"
" Which way is he coming ?"
" By the secret passage."
"Then let this gentleman out by the other door."
" Impossible, madame, some one is knocking ther®
"Who is it?"
" I do not know."
" Go and see."
" Madame," said De Mouy, " permit me to observe, that I
am lost if the King of Navarre sees me in the Louvre at this
hour and in this costume."
Marguerite seized his hand, and leading him to the famous
cabinet:
" Enter there," said she; " you are as safe as in your own
house, for you are under my protection."
De Mouy sprang in, and hardly had he done so, when Henry
appeared.
He entered with that cautious observation that made him,
even when in the least danger, remark the most trifling circum-
stances. He instantly perceived the cloud on Marguerite's
brow.
"You were musing, madame," said he.
" Yes, sire, I was."
"You are right, madame, thoughtfulness becomes you. I,
too, was musing, and came to communicate my thoughts to you."
Marguerite inclined her head in token of welcome, and
pointing to a seat, placed herself in an ebony chair beautifully
carved.
There was an instant's pause: Henry first broke the silence.
" I remembered, madame," said he, " that my dreams as to
the future had this in common with yours, that, though separ-
ated as husband and wife, we yet wished to unite our fortunes."
" It is true, sire." '
"I also conjectured, that in all my plans for our common
elevation, I should find in you not only a faithful but ap
active ally."
"Yes, sire, and I only ask to have an early opportunity of
proving it to you."
" I am delighted to find you so well disposed; and I believe
you have not for an instant doubted that I have lost sight of
CHERRY MANTLE.
those plans I resolved upon the day that, thanks to your
courage, my life was saved."
" Sire, I see that your indifference is merely a mask, and I
have confidence not only in the predictions of astrologers, but
also in your genius."
"What should you say, then, were some one to come in and
thwart our plans, and threaten to destroy our hopes?"
" I would reply, that I am ready to strive with you, openly
or in secret, against him, be who he may."
"Madame," returned Henry, "you have the right of entering
the Duke d'Alentjon's apartments at all times. Might I request
of you to go and see if he be not in conference with some one."
" With whom ?" asked Marguerite.
"With De Mouy."
"Why?" replied Marguerite.
" Because if it be so, adieu all our plans."
" Speak lower, sire," said Marguerite, pointing to tne cabinet.
"Some, one there again," said Henry. " By my faith, that
cabinet is so often occupied, that it renders your apartments
quite uninhabitable."
Marguerite smiled.
" At all events, I hope it is M. de la Mole still ?" said
Henry.
" No, sire ; it is M. de Mouy."
" De Mouy!" cried Henry, joyfully. "He is not, then,
with the Duke d'Alengon. Ob, let me speak to him."
Marguerite ran to the cabinec, and without further ceremony
presented De Mouy to the king.
"Ah, madame," said the young Huguenot, reproachfully,
"you have not kept your promise. Suppose I were to revenge
myself by saying " v
" You will not avenge yourself, my dear Mouy," said Henry,
pressing his hand; " at least, not before you have heard me.
Madame," continued he, " have the kindness to see that no
one overhears us."
Scarcely were these words uttered, when Gillonne entered
all aghast, and said something to Marguerite that made her
leave the room instantly. Meanwhile, not troubling himself as
to the cause of her abrupt departure, Henry lifted the tapestry,
sounded the walls, and looked into every recess. As for De
Mouv, somewhat alarmed by these precautions, he loosened
his sword in the scabbard.
MARGUERITE DE VAtOIS.
Marguerite, on leaving her bedchamber, found herself in the
presence of La Mole, who, in spite of Gillonne, was forcing
his way in. Behind him stood Coconnas, ready to advance or
retreat with him, as the case might be.
" Ah, is it you, M. de la Mole !" said the queen. " What is
the matter with you ? and what makes you look so pale ?"
" Madame," said Gillonne, " M. de la Mole knocked so loud
that, in spite of your majesty's orders, I was forced to admit
him."
" Ha !" said the queen, angrily. " Is this true, M. de la
Mole ?"
"Madame, I wished to inform your majesty that a stranger,
a robber perhaps, had entered your apartments, wearing my
mantle and hat."
"You are mad, sir," returned Marguerite; "fori see your
mantle on your shoulders; and moreover, by my faith, I see
your hat on your head, though you are speaking to a queen."
" Forgive me, madame !" cried La Mole, hastily uncovering.
" Heaven knows it is not want of respect "
" No, but want of faith," said the queen.
" Oh, madame," said La Mole, " when a man enters apart-
ments in my dress, perchance under my name "
" A man !" said Marguerite, pressing her lover's hand. "Very
line, M. de la Mole; look through that opening, and you will
see two men."
And she gently raised the velvet curtains, and showed to
De la Mole and Coconnas, who, moved with curiosity, came
forward, Henry speaking to the cavalier in the cherry-coloured
mantle, whom both at once recognised as De Mouy.
"Now that you are satisfied," said Marguerite, "placeyour-
self at that door, and let no one enter: if any one even ap-
proaches, let me know."
La Mole, docile as an infant, obeyed, and both he and
Coconnas found themselves outside the door, before they had
well recovered from their amazement.
" De Mouy !" cried Coconnas.
" Henry !" muttered La Mole.
" De Mouy, with your cloak and hat."
"Zounds !" said La Mole, " this is some plot."
" Ah, here we are in politics again !" grumbled Coconnas.
" Fortunately, I do not see Madame de Nevers mixed up in
the matter."
CHERRY MANTLE.
209
Marguerite returned to her bed-room ; she had been absent
scarcely a minute, but she had made good use of her time.
Gillonne guarding the secret passage, and the two gentlemen
outside the principal entrance, afforded full security.
" Madame," said Henry, " do you think it possible any one
can overhear us ?"
" Sire," returned Marguerite, V the walls are all double-
panelled, and lined between with mattresses."
" Ay, ay, that will do," said Henry, smiling.
Then, turning to De Mouy : " Now, then," said he, in a low
tone, as, notwithstanding Marguerite's assurances, his fears
were not dissipated, " what are you come here for ?''
" Here !" repeated De Mouy.
" Yes, here—to this chamber?
" He did not come for anything," said Marguerite; " it was I
who brought him here."
"You knew then ?"
" I guessed."
"You see, De Mouy, people can guess."
" M. de Mouy," continued Marguerite, " was with DuKe
Frangois this morning in the chamber of one of his gentlemen."
"You see, De Mouy," repeated Henry, "we know all."
" It is true," said De Mouy.
" I was sure," replied the king, " that D'Alengon had got
hold of you."
" It is your fault, sire. Why did you refuse so obstinately
what I offered."
" Ah, you refused !" said Marguerite. " My presentiments,
then, were real."
" Madame," said Henry, " and you, my worthy De Mouy,
you make me smile. What! a man comes to me, and talks to
me of thrones and revolutions, and overthrowing states—to me,
Henry, a prince tolerated only because I humble myself; a
Huguenot, spared only because I pretend to be a Catholic;
and thinks I am going to accept his propositions, made in a
chamber without double panels, and not lined with mattresses.
You are children, or mad !"
"But sire, your majesty might have given me some sign, to
raise our hopes."
" What did my brother-in-law say to vou, De Mouy?" asked
Henry.
(C Ob, sire, that i§ not my secret."
14
2IO
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"Oh, mon Dieu /" said Henry, impatient at having to deal
with a man who did not understand him. " I do not ask you
what proposals he made yon. I only asked you if he had
listened, and if he had overheard?"
" He had listened, sire, and he had overheard."
"He listened and overheard!—you admit that yourself.
Poor conspirator that you are ! Had I spoken a word, you
had been undone ; for, if I did not absolutely know he was
there, I suspected as much ; and if not he, some one else—
D'Anjou, the king, or the queen-mother. The walls of the
Louvre have good ears ; and, knowing that, do you think I
should speak? I wonder you offer a crown to the King of
Navarre, when you give him credit for so little good sense."
" But sire," said De Mouy, " had you made me a sign, I
should not have lost all hope."
" Kb, ventre-saint-gris /" cried Henry. " If he listened,
could he not see also? At this very instant I dread lest we
may be overheard, when I say to you, De Mouy, repeat to me
your proposals."
" Sire," said De Mouy, mournfully, " I am now engaged with
M. d'Alenfon."
Marguerite beat her fair bands together violently.
" It is, then, too late," said she.
" On the contrary," said Henry, " the hand of Providence is
visible in this; for the duke will save us allhe will be a
buckler protecting us; whereas the name of the King of
Navarre would involve you all, by degrees, in destruction.
Get fast hold of him ; secure proofs ; but, silly politician that
you are, you have doubtless engaged yourself already, without
using any precautions."
" Sire," cried De Mouy, "despair made me join his party, and
fear also, for he held our secret."
" Then hold his in your turn. What does he want ?—the
kingdom of Navarre? Promise it him. To quit the court?
Supply him with the means. When the time comes for us to
fly, he and I will fly together : when it is time to reign, I will
reign alone."
" Distrust the duke," said Marguerite; " he is alike incapable
of hatred and friendship; ever ready to treat his enemies as
friends, and his friends as enemies."
" He awaits you ?" said Henry, without heeding his wife's
remark,
CHERRY MANTLE. 211
"Yes, sire.''
" At what hour ?"
" Until midnight."
" It is not yet eleven," said Henry; "you are not too late,
De Mouy."
" We have your word, sir," said Marguerite.
"Come, come," said Henry, with that air of confidence he
so well knew how to show to certain persons and on certain
occasions ; " with M. de Mouy this is needless."
"You do me justice, sire," returned the young man. " Eut
I must have your word that I may tel.1 our leaders that I have
received it. You are not, then, a Catholic ?"
Henry shrugged his shoulders.
"You do not renounce the kingdom of Navarre?"
" I do not renounce any kingdom, only I would select that
which suits you and me the best."
" And, in the meantime, were your mrjesty to be arrested,
and they should dare so to violate the regal dignity as to torture
you, will you swear to reveal nothing ?"
" De Mouy, I swear it."
"One word, sire. How shall I see you ?"
"From to-morrow you will have a key of my chamber, and
you can come in wlnn you will. The duke must explain your
presence at the Lou\re. I will now guide you up the private
staircase; meantime, the queen will bring in here the other
cherry mantle, who was just now in the antechamber. It must
not be supposed you are double ; eh, De Mouy ? eh, madarne?"
Henry laughed as he said this, and looked at Marguerite.
"Yes," replied she, without any emoiion ; " for you know
this M. de la Mole is one of the gentlemen of the Duke
D'Alengon."
" Try and get him to our side, then," said Henry, with entire
gravity; " spare neither gold nor promises ; I place all my trea-
sures at his disposal."
"Well, then," said Marguerite, with one of those smiles that
belong only to Boccaccio's heroines, "since such is your desire,
I will do my best to promote it."
"Verygood, madarne ; and now to the duke, De Mouy, and
hook him."
14—2
213
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
CHAPTER XXVI.
marguerite.
During this conversation, La Mole and Coconnas remained on
guard ; the former marvellously vexed, and Coconnas somewhat
uneasy, for La Mole had had time for reflection, and Coconnas
had most liberally assisted him in it.
" What do you think of all this ?" asked La Mole.
"I think," replied the Piedmontese, "that it is some intrigue
of the court."
" And are you disposed to play a part in it ?"
" My dear fellow !" returned Coconnas, " listen to what I shall
say, and give heed thereunto. In all these royal manoeuvrings
we are, and should be, but shadows : where the King of Navarre
would only lose the end of his feather, or the Duke d'Alengon
the skirt of his cloak, you and I should lose ourJives. Go crazy
in love, if you please, but do not meddle in politics."
"But I love the queen, Annibal; I love her with all my soul;
'tis folly, I admit; but you, Coconnas, who are prudent, must
not suffer by my folly. Seek our master, and do not compro-
mise yourself."
Coconnas reflected an instant, then, shaking his head :
" My dear fellow !" said he, " what you say is very just; you
are in love, and you act like a lover; I am ambitious, and think
life worth more than the smile of a woman. When I risk my
life, I will make my own terms, and do you, on your part, do
the same."
So saying, Coconnas pressed La Mole's hand, and left him.
About ten minutes after, the door opened cautiously, and
Marguerite appeared. Without speaking a word, she led La
Mole into her apartment, closing the doors with a care that
showed the importance of the conversation she was about to
open. -
Arrived in her chamber, she sat down in her ebony chair, and
taking La Mole's hands in hers :
" Now that we are alone, my friend," said she, " we will talk
seriously."
" Seriously, madame ?" said La Mole.
" Or confidentially, if you like the word better. There may
be serious things in confidential conversations, especially in
those of a queen,"
MARGUERITE.
213
" Let us speak seriously, then ; but on condition that your
majesty be not offended with what I shall say."
" I shall only be offended at one thing, La Mole, and that is,
if you call me ' madame' or 'your majesty;' for you, I am only
Marguerite."
" Yes, Marguerite ! yes, Marguerite !" cried the young man,
gazing passionately at the queen.
" That is well," said Marguerite ; " and so you are jealous,
my fair sir ?"
" Oh, madly !"
" Ah ! and of whom ?"
" Of every one."
" But of whom in particular ?"
" First, of the king."
" I thought, after what you had seen and heard, you were
easy on that score."
" Of this M. de Mouy, whom I saw this morning for the first
time, and whom I find this evening on such intimate terms
with you."
".And what makes you jealous of De Mouy?"
" I recognised him by his air, his figure ; by a natural feeling
of hate : it is he who was with M. d'Aleneon this morning."
" Well, what has he to do with me ?"
" That I know not. But in default of any other return, a
love like mine is entitled to frankness on your part. See,
madame, at your feet I implore you ! If what you have felt
for me is but a temporary inclination, I give you back your
faith and your promises; I will resign my post to M. d'Alengon,
and go and seek death at the siege of Rochelle, if love does
not kill me before I arrive there !"
Marguerite listened with a smile to these tender reproaches,
then, leaning her head on his burning hand :
"You love me?" she said.
" Oh, yes, madame, more than life 1 But you do not love me."
"Silly fellow!" murmured she; "and so the sole interest of
life with you is your love ?".
"It is, indeed, madame."
"You love me, then, and would fain remain with me?"
" My only prayer is, that I may never part from you."
" Were I to tell you I love you, should you be wholly devoted
to me ?"
" Am I not so already ?"
214
marguerite de valois.
"Yes ; but you still doubt."
"Oh. I am an ingrate, or rather, I am mad: but tell me,
why was M. de Mouy this morning with the Duke d'Alen§on?
why here to-night? what meant the white plume, the cherry-
coloured mantle, the imitating my walk and manner?"
'• Can you not guess? The Duke d'Alengon would kill you
with his own hand, did he know you were here at my feet; and
that, instead of ordering you to quit my presence, I said to you
then as I now say, stay where you are, for I "love you."
"All gratitude to you for the word," murmured La Mole.
" Listen," continued the queen ; " it was not for me that
M. de Mouy came here in your hat and cloak ; in was for M.
d'Alengon ; but I mistook him for you ; I spoke to him, thinking
it was you ; I led him hither, thinking it was you. Repossesses
our secret, La Mole, and must be managed cautiously."
" I had rather kill him," said La Mole ; " 'tis the shortest and
safest way."
"And I," said the queen, "had rather he should live, and
that you should know all. Now answer me truly, La Mole; do
you love me enough to rejoice if I were to become really queen?"
" Alas, madame," said La Mole, " I love you enough to de-
sire whatever you desire, though it involved myself in utter
misery !"
" Will you, then, aid me to realise this object?"
" Oh, 1 shall lose you !" cried La Mole, burying his face in
his hands.
" No ; only, instead of being the first of my servants, you
will become the first of my subjects."
" Oh, speak not of interest, of ambition ! Do not dishonour
the sentiment I have for you !—my devotion, my ardent, my un-
mixed devotion !"
" Noble nature!" said the queen ; " I will accept your devo-
tion, and, be assured, will repay it."
And she held out her hands, which La Mole pressed in his own.
" Well 1" said she.
11 Well, yes," replied La Mole; " I now begin to understand
the project spoken of by the Huguenots before the Bartholo-
mew ; the project, to aid in which, I, with so many others, came
to Paris. De Mouy conspires with you ; but what has the Duke
d'Alengon to do with all this ? Is he sufficiently your friend to
aid you. without demanding anything in return?"
" The duke conspires for himself. Let him go on his own way.;
his hie answers for ours."
'MARGUERITE.
" But how can I, who am in his service, betray him ?"
" Betray him ! how so ? What has he intrusted to you ? Has
he not betrayed you, by giving De Mouy your mantle and hat,
to enable him to come here? Were you not in my service
before you were in his ? Has he given you a greater proof of
his friendship than I have of love?"
La Mole rose, pale and agitated.
" Coconnas was right," murmured he ; "I am becoming en-
tangled in the net of intrigue, and it will destroy me."
" Well," said Marguerite.
" This is my answer," returned La Mole. " Even at the ex-
tremity of France, where the reputation of your beauty reached
me, and gave me my first desire to visit Paris, that I might see
you, I have heard it said, that you have often loved, and that
your love has always been fatal to its objects ; death, douotless
jealous of their happiness, removed them from you. Do not
interrupt me, Marguerite. It is added, that you have ever with
you the embalmed hearts of these departed ones, and that, at
times, you bestow on these sad remains a piteous sigh, perchance
a tear. You sigh, my queen, your eyes are lowered to the
ground ; it is true, then? Well; let me be favoured as these
were, only with this difference; swear that if (as a sombre pre-
sentiment assures me I shall) I perish beneath the executioner's
stroke in your service, you will preserve that head which I shall
forfeit, and will sometimes look upon it. Swear this, and the
prospect of such a reward shall make me be, or do, whatever
you command me."
" Oh, gloomy foreboding !" said the queen.
" Swear !"
" Swear ?"
11 Yes, on this cross-surmounted coffer."
" I swear." said Marguerite, "that if your sombre presenti-
ment be realized, you shall be near me, living or dead, so long
as I myself shall live; if I cannot save you, you shall have
the poor consolation you ask, and which you will have so well
merited."
" One word more, Marguerite—I can now die happily ; but
I may live ; we may triumph, and not fall. The King of Navarre
may become king, you will then be queen; he will take you
hence ; the vow of separation between you may one day be
broken, and lead to my separation from you. Oh ! dearest
Marguerite, reassure me also on this point."
216
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS.
" Fear not," cried Marguerite, placing her hand on the cross ;
" if I go, you shall accompany me ; if the king refuses to take
you, I myself will not depart."
" But you will not dare resist him."
" Dear Hyacinthe," said Marguerite, " you do not know tne
king; Henry thinks but of one thing, that of becoming a king,
and to that he would sacrifice all; and now, farewell!"
From this evening La Mole was no longer a common favourite,
and he could proudly hold up that head, for which, living or
dead, so high a destiny was reserved. Yet sometimes his eyes
were fixed on the ground, his cheek grew pale, and deep medi-
tation drew furrows on the brow of the young man, once so gay,
now so happy.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE.
As Henry left Madame de Sauve, he said to her :
" Charlotte, confine yourself to your bed ; pretend to be ex-
ceedingly ill, and do not receive any person during the day
under any pretext whatsoever."
Charlotte, knowing that Henry had secrets which he revealed
to no one, complied with all his directions, certain that his con-
duct was based on some good and sufficing grounds.
Thus, in the evening, she complained to her attendant
Dariole of a heaviness in the head, accompanied with faint-
ness, these being the symptoms Henry had requested her to
feign.
The next morning she seemed desirous of rising, but scarcely
had she placed her foot on the floor than she complained of
general weakness, and returned to her bed.
This indisposition, which Henry had already adverted to
when speaking to the Duke d'Alen^n, was the first informa-
tion that Catherine received, when she inquired, with a calm
air, why La Sauve did not attend her, as usual, when she
arose.
"She is ill," said Madame de Lorraine, who was present.
" 111," repeated Catherine, whilst not a muscle of her face
announced the interest she took in the reply; "a little indolent,
perhaps ?"
"No, madame," replied the princess ; "she complains of a
THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE.
2i7
Violent pain in the head, and a weakness that prevents her from
moving."
Catherine made no reply, but to conceal her joy, no doubt,
turned towards the window, and seeing Henry cross the court-
yard, after his conversation with De Mouy, she said, as she
looked at him, to her captain of the guards :
" Do you not think that my son Henry looks paler than usual
this morning?"
It is true Henry was considerably disturbed in mind, but
perfectly well in body.
Catherine's suite left her, and the instant she was alone, she
closed the door securely, and going to a secret cupboard, she
drew from a concealed corner a book, whose crumpled leaves
proved how frequently it was made use of.
She placed the volume on a table, opened it, and after con-
suiting its pages for a minute, exclaimed :
" Yes, it is so ; headache, general weakness, pains in the eyes,
swelling of the palate ; as yet they only mention headache and
weakness ; but the other symptoms will appear anon. Then
follow inflammation of the throat, which extends over the
stomach, surrounds the heart with a circle of fire, and makes the
brain burst like a stroke of lightning."
She read on in a low tone, and then said :
" The fever lasts six hours, the general inflammation twelve
hours, the gangrene twelve hours, the final agony six hours ; in
all thirty-six hours."
"Well, then, let us suppose that absorption is a slower pro-
cess than swallowing ; instead of thirty-six hours we shall have
forty, or perhaps forty-eight—yes, forty-eight must be sufficient
—but he—he—Henry—how is it that he is able to keep up?
Why, because he is a man with a robust habit, and perhaps drank
something after he had kissed her, and wiped his lips after
drinking."
Catherine impatiently awaited the dinner-hour—Henry dined
with the king daily. When he came, he complained of giddiness
in the head, and did not eat, but withdrew immediately after
dinner, saying that as he had been up nearly all the night before,
he felt a great desire to sleep.
Catherine listened to Henry's retreating and staggering step,
and desired some one to follow him, which was done, and the
queen-mother was informed that the King of Navarre had gone
towards Madame de Sauve's apartment.
218
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
"Henry," she said to herself, "will there complete the work
of deaih which unlucky accident may hitherto have rendered
incomplete."
The King of Navarre had gone to Madame de Sauve's apart-
ment. to request her to continue to play her part.
Next day Henry did not quit his chamber all the morning,
nor did he dine at the royal table. Madame de Sauve, it was
reported, was worse and worse, and the rumours of Henry s
illness, spread by Catherine herself, spread like one of those
presentiments which no one can explain.
Catherine awaited, then, with curiosity, with expectation, the
moment when some attendant, pale and aghast, should enter
her apartment, and cry :
"Your majesty, the King of Navarre is dying, and Madame
de S mve is dead."
The clock struck four, and Catherine was feeding with crumbs
of bread some rare birds which she herself attended to. Although
her features were calm, and even melancholy, her heart beat
violently at the least sound.
Suddenly the door opened.
" Madame," said the captain of the guards, " the King of
Navarre is "
" 111 ?" inquired Catherine, suddenly.
"No, madame, thank God! his majesty seems excellently
well."
" What then have you to say ?"
"That the King of Navarre is here.
" What would he with me ?"
"He brings your majesty a small monkey of a very rare sort."
And at this moment Henry entered, holding in his hand a
basket, and caressing an onistui (a small species of the monkey)
which was in it.
Henry smiled as he entered, and appeared quite occupied
with the small animal he had brought; but yet, preoccupied
as he was, he gave a glance which was sufficient under his pecu-
liar circumstances. As to Catherine, she was very pale—deadly
pale, indeed, as she saw the cheeks of the young man, as he
approached her, glowing with colour and health.
The queen-mother was stupefied at this, and accepting me-
chanically the present he made her, and complimenting him in
a troubled voice on his henlthv appearance, added :
" I am the more pleased to see you in such health, my son,
THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE.
after having heard that you had been unwell; and I remember
you complained of indisposition in my presence; but I see
now," she continued, trying to force a smile, " it was only an
excuse that you might have your time more freely to yourself."
" Why, 1 really was very unwell, madame," replied Henry;
" but a specific used in our mountains, and which my mother
gave me, cured my indisposition."
" Ah ! you will give me the prescription, won't you, Henry ?"
said Catherine, really smiling this time, but with irony half con-
cealed.
" Some counter-poison," she muttered ; " or he was on his
guard : seeing Madame de Sauve ill, he had some distrust.
Really, it would seem that the hand of Providence is extended
over this man."
Catherine awaited for night most impatiently. Madame de
Sauve did not appear ; and it was stated that she was still
worse. Ali the evening the queen-mother was uneasy; and
every one asked, what could be the thoughts that thus agitated
a countenance usually so little agitated.
Every one retired. Catherine went to bed, and was un-
dressed by her woman ; but, when all was hushed in the Louvre,
she rose, put on a long black dressing gown, and vith a lamp
in her hand, having selected the key that opened Madame de
Sauve's door, Went to the apartment of her maid of honour.
Had Henry anticipated this visit? Was he in his own apart-
ment? Was he hidden somewhere? The young lady was
alone.
Catherine opened the door with precaution, passed through
the antechamber, entered the saloon, placed the lamp on a table,,
for there was a night light burning near the invalid, and like a
shadow she glided into the sleeping apartment. ,
Dariole, extended in a large arm-chair, was sleeping near her
mistress's bed, which was closed in by curtains.
The breathing of the young lady was so light, that for an in-
stant, Catherine thought she did not breathe at all.
At length she heard a light respiration, and, with malignant
joy, she raised the curtain that she might herself witness the
effect of the terrible poison, and she shuddered at the antici-
pated aspect of the livid paleness, or the devouring purple, of
the mortal fever she hoped to see ; but, instead of that, calm,
her eyes gently covered by their ivory lids, her mouth rosy and
half-opened, her solt cheek rcpo.my on one of her arms, beau-
220
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
tifully rounded, whilst the other, fresh and beautiful, was ex-
tended on the crimson damask counterpane, the young lady was
sleeping with a smile on her lovely features.
Catherine could not repress a cry, which aroused Dariole for
an instant.
The queen-mother threw herself behind the bed-curtains.
Dariole opened her eyes, but being drowsy, she did not even try
to account to herself for the cause of her awaking, and her
heavy eyelids again dropping, she soon slept.
Catherine then coming from behind the curtain, looking all
around, saw on a small table a flask of Spanish wine, some.
sweetmeats, and two glasses. Henry had supped with the
baroness, who was as well as himself.
Catherine then going to the toilette-table, took up the small
box, which was one-third empty. It was the same, or similar
to that she had given. She took from it a morsel of the size of
a pearl, at the end of a gold pin, returned to her own apart-
ment, and offered it to the small monkey which Henry had pre-
sented to her the same evening. The animal, tempted by the
aromatic, seized and swallowed it greedily, and-curling himself
up in his basket, went to sleep. Catherine waited a quarter of
an hour.
" With half such a piece," she said, " my dog Brunot died in
a minute. I have been trifled with. Can it be Rene ? Rene !
that is impossible. Then, it is Henry. Cursed fatality, it is
clear; as he must reign, he cannot die. Perhaps, it is only
poison against which he is proof: let us then try cold steel."
Catherine went to her couch, turning over in her mind this
fresh idea, which she resolved on essaying next day; and, in
the morning, summoning the captain of her guards, she gave
him a letter to convey to its address, and to be handed only to
the person whose name it bore.
It was addressed to " Sire de Louviers de Maurevel, Captain
of the King's Petardiers, Rue de la Cerisaie, near the Arsenal."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE LETTER FROM ROME.
Some days had elapsed since the events we have related, when
one morning a litter, escorted by several gentlemen wearing the
colours of M. de Guise, entered the Louvre; apd it was an-
THE LETTER FROM ROME.
221
noimced to the Queen of Navarre that the Duchess de Nevers
desired to pay her respects to her.
Marguerite was receiving a visit from Madame de Sauve. It
was the first time the lovely baroness had gone out since her
pretended illness.
Marguerite congratulated her on her convalescence, and said :
" You will come, I hope, to the great hunt, which will cer-
tainly take place to-morrow."
" Why, madame," replied the baroness, " I do not know that
I shall be well enough."'
" Bah," replied Marguerite, " you must make an exertion;
and as I myself am a regular warrior, I have authorised the
king to place at your disposal a small Beam horse, which
I was to have ridden, and which will carry you famously. So
you must accompany us."
"Your majesty overwhelms me, and 1 will be present, as you
desire it."
At this moment the Duchess de Nevers was announced.
" To-morrow, then," said Marguerite, to Madame de Sauve.
" Apropos, you know, baroness," continued Marguerite, " that
in public I detest you, seeing that I am horribly jealous of you."
" But in private ?" asked Madame de Sauve.
" Oh ! in private I not only forgive you, but even thank you."
"Then your majesty will allow me "
Marguerite extended her hand, which the baroness kissed
respectfully, made a low curtsey, and left the apartment.
The Duchess de Nevers entered. Gillonne, at the desire of
her mistress, fastened the door, and the duchess, taking a seat
without ceremony, Marguerite said to her, with a smile :
' Well! and our famous swordsman—what do we make out
of him ?"
" My dear queen," replied the duchess, " he is really a my-
thological being ; he is incomparable in his mind, and endless
in his humour; I am really fond of him : and ho\y goes on vour
Apollo?"
" Alas !" said Marguerite, with a sigh.
" Ah, ah ! that alas ! frightens me, dear queen."
" This, alas ! only refers to myself," replied Marguerite.
" And what does it mean ?"
" It means, dear duchess, that I have an awful fear that £
love him in real earnest."
« Really?"
222
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" On my faith, as a woman !"
" Ah, so much the better !" cried Henriette. "It is so plea-
sant, dear anil learned queen, to rest one's mind on a faithful
and fond heart. Ah, Marguerite ! I have a presentiment that
we shall pass an agreeable year."
" Do you think so ?" said the queen. " I, on the contrary,
do not know how it is, but I appear to see everything as it were
through a crape. All these political turmoils torment me cer-
ribly. By the way, learn if your Annibal is as much devoted to
my brother as he appears to be. It is important to know this."
, " He devoted to anything! Ah ! I see, you do not know
him as I do. If he is ever devoted, it will be to ambition, and
nothing else. There are really moments when this tiger, whom
I have trained, makes me afraid for myself. The other day I
said to him : ' Annibal, mind and do not be false to me, for
if you are false to me ' "
" Well ?"
" Well, what do you suppose was his reply? Why, he said:
' And if you are false to me, do you take care, for although you
are a princess ;' and as he said so, he threatened me not
only with his eyes, but with his finger—his finger, straight and
pointed, and with a nail cut like a spear-point, which he put
quite close under my nose; really, my dear queen, I confess
his countenance was so threatening that I trembled, and you
know that ordinarily I am no trembler."
" Did he really threaten you, Henriette ?"
"Yes, mordi ! but I had threatened him, you see."
" Have you any news for me ?"
" Yes, indeed ; I have received news from Rome."
" Well ! and matters in Poland ?"
"Progress most favourably; and in all probability you will
in a few days be freed from your brother D'Anjou."
"The pope, then, has ratified the election ?"
" Yfes, my dear."
"Why did you not tell me sooner? Come, quick,-quick !—
all the details."
" Oh, ma foi ! I have none but what I have told you. But
here is my husband De Nevers' letter. No, that is not it; that
is a billet from me, which I will beg of you to ask La Mole to
give to Annibal. This is the duke's letter."
Marguerite opened and read it eagerly, but it told no more
than she knew before from the lips of her friend.
TILE LETTER FROM ROME.
223
"And how did you receive this letter?" continued the
queen.
"By one of my husband's couriers, who had his orders to
stop at the Hotel de Guise on his way to the Louvre, and hand
me this letter, before the king had his. I knew the importance
which my queen attached to this news, and wrote to M. de
Nevers to do so. And now in all Paris, none but the king,
you and 1, know this news, unless the man who followed our
courier "
" What man ?"
" Oh, what a horrible business ! Only imagine this poor
messenger arriving tired, dusty, and jaded, after travelling for a
whole week, day and night incessantly, constantly followed by
a man of fierce visage, who had relays, like his own, and
travelled as fast as he for these four hundred leagues, our cou-
rier expecting every moment to have a ball in his back. They
both arrived at the Barriere St. Marcel at the same time—both
descended the Rue Mouffetard at a gallop—both crossed the
Cite; but at the end of the bridge Notre-Dame, our courier
turned to the right, while the other turned to the left by the
Place du Chatelet, and passed along the Quais by the Louvre,
like a bolt Irom a bow."
" Thanks ! thanks ! dearest Henriette," cried Marguerite;
"you are right,, and your information is indeed interesting.
Who this other courier is I will find out. Leave me now; we
meet to-night in the Rue Tizon, do we not, and to-morrow at
the hunt ? I will tell you to-night what I wish you to learn
from your Ccconnas."
>" Do not forget my letter.'
" No, no ; be easy, he shall have it in time."
Madame de Nevers went away, and Marguerite instantly sent
for Henry, who hastened to her, and she gave him the letter,
and told him of the two couriers.
"Yes," said Henry; " I saw one enter the Louvre.
"Perhaps for the queen-mother."
" No, for I went into the corridor, and no one passed.
" Then," said Marguerite, looking at her husband, " it must
be for "
" Your brother D'Alengon, eh ?" said Henry.
" Yes; but how to ascertain ?"
" Can we not," asked Henry negligently, " send for one of
the two gentlemen, and learn from him "
224
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" You are right, sire," replied Marguerite, set at ease by her
husband's proposition. " I will send for M. de la Mole and
calling Gillonne, she desired her to seek that gentleman, and
bring him thither.
Henry seated himself at a table, on which was a German
book with Albert Durer's engravings, which he looked at with
so much attention, that when La Mole appeared he did not
seem to hear him, not even raising his head.
Marguerite went to La Mole, and said:
" M. de la Mole, can you tell me who is on guard to-day at
M. d'Alengon's ?"
" Coconnas, madame," was the reply.
" Endeavour to learn if he has introduced to his master a
man covered with mud, who seemed to have ridden a long and
rapid journey ?"
" Madame, I am afraid he will not tell me, for he has been
uncommonly taciturn during the last few days."
" Really ? Well, but if you give him this billet, I should
think he would owe you something in exchange."
"From the duchess? Ah, madame, let me have it, and I
will answer for all;" and taking the letter, he went quickly
away.
"We shall know to-morrow if the Duke d'Alengon is in-
formed of the affair of Poland," said Marguerite, turning towards
her husband.
" This M. de la Mole is really a very capital servant," said
the Bdarnais, with his own most peculiar smile, " and, by the
mass ! I will make his fortune."
CHAPTER XXIX.
the departure.
When the red rayless sun rose next morning over Paris, the
court had already been in motion for two hours.
A splendid barb, agile as a deer, the swelling veins of whose
neck indicated his high breeding, pawed impatiently in the
court, awaiting the king; but his impatience was less than his
master's, detained by his mother, who wished to speak of an
affair of the greatest importance.
They were both in the great gallery: Catherine pale and cold
as ever; Charles IX. biting his pails, and chastising the twq
THE DEPARTURE.
225
favourite dogs which stood by him, clothed in the coat of mail
which protected them from the boar's tusks. A shield em-
blazoned with the arms of France was attached to their chests,
like that on the breasts of the royal pages.
" Listen, Charles," said Catherine. " None but you and I
are aware of the approaching arrival of the Polish ambassadors;
and yet the King of Navarre acts as if he knew of it. In spite
of his pretended abjuration, he keeps up a correspondence
with the Huguenots. Have you remarked how frequently he
has gone out, within the last few days ? He has money—he
who never before had any; he purchases horses and weapons,
and when it rains, he practises fencing."
" Bah ! mother," cried Charles, impatiently ; " do you think
he is going to kill D'Anjou or myself; he must take a few more
lessons first: for yesterday I touched with my foil the buttons
on his doublet eleven times, though there are but six of them;
and D'Anjou is even more skilful than I, or at least, he says
so."
"Attend, Charles," said Catherine, "and do not treat yom
mother's warnings with such levity. These ambassadors will
soon arrive : once here, you will see Henry doing his best to
gain their attention; he is very insinuating and cunning, and
his wife, who now abets him, I don't understand why, will chatter
Latin and Greek, Hungarian, and I know not what else, with
them. I tell you, Charles, and I am never mistaken, there is
something in hand."
At this moment the clock struck. Charles listened.
" Mort de ma vie / seven : an hour to get there, an hour more
at cover ; zounds ! it will be nine before we are at it! Down,
Risque-tout !—down, you rascal!"
And as he spoke, a vigorous lash drew from the poor hound,
astonished at receiving chastisement instead of a caress, a yell
of agony.
" Charles," resumed Catherine, " attend to me, and do not
thus put to hazard your own fortune and that of France. The
chase! the chase ! you will have time enough for the chase,
when you have completed the work before us."
" Bah ! bah ! mother," said Charles, pale with rage; " tell
me, at once, what you want."
And he struck his boot with his whip.
Catherine saw the favourable moment had arrived, and do-
termined not to let it slip,
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS
" My son," said she, "we know that M. de Mouy is again in
Paris; M. de Maurevel has seen him. He can only be het;e
for the King of Navarre's purposes. Here is good ground for
increased suspicion."
"Ah, here you are again at poor Harry ! I suppose you
want me to kill him."
" Oh no !"
" To banish him? But don't you perceive he would be more
formidable at a distance than here, in the Louvre, where we
know everything he does ?"
"No, I don't want to banish him."
" What then ? Come, quick !"
" I would have him confined while the Poles are here; in the
Bastille, for instance."
"Oh, ma foi.'w o," cried Charles IX. "We are going to
hunt the boar this morning ; Henry is one of my best assist-
ants. The chase would be nothing without him. Mordieu!
you do nothing but annoy me."
"My son, I do not say to-day; to-morrow will be time
enough."
" Ah, that is different; we will speak again of this, after the
hunt, say. Adieu ! Come, Risque-tout, don't be sulky !"
" Charles," said Catherine, taking hold of his arm, spite of the
explosion she knew might follow, " I think it would be best to
sign the warrant at once, although we do not execute it to.-night."
" Sign! write an order ! go and look for the seal, when I am
going to hunt? Devil take me if I do !"
" Nay, I love you too much to delay you : I have everything
prepared."
And Catherine, agile as a girl, opened the door of her private
cabinet, and showed the king an inkstand, a pen, a parchment,
and a lighted taper.
The king rapidly run his eye over the parchment:
" Order, etc., etc., to arrest and conduct to the Bastille our
brother Henry of Navarre."
" There !" said he, hastily affixing his name to it.
And he sprang out of the cabinet, glad to escape so easity.
Charles was Avaited for impatiently; and as his punctuality in
hunting arrangements Avas well knoAvn, his non-appearance
occasioned no small surprise. The instant he appeared, the
hunters saluted him Avith cheers, the Avhippers-in with their horns,
the horses with neighings, and the hounds with their roost SAveei
THE DEPARTURE. 227
voices. Charles, for a moment, was young and happy amidst
all this noise, and the colour mounted up into his pallid cheeks.
He scarcely gave himself time to return the salutations of the
brilliant assembly. He nodded to D'Alengon, waved his hand
to Marguerite, passed Henry without sgenung to observe him,
and sprang upon the horse that awaited him. The noble animal
bounded impatiently, but soon comprehending with how perfect
an equestrian it had to deal, became quiet.
The horns once more sounded, and the king left the Louvre,
followed by the Duke d'Alenqon, the King of Navarre, Mar-
guerite, Madame de Nevers, Madame de Sauve, Tavannes, and
the chief nobles of the court.
As for the Duke d'Anjou, he had been at the siege of
Rochelle for the last three months.
Whilst waiting for the king, Henry had approached his wife,
who whispered :
" The courier from Rome was conducted by M. de Coconnas
to the Duke d'Alenqon a quarter of an hour before the Duke de
Nevers' messenger saw the king."
" Then he knows all."
" He needs must. Look at him ; despite his accomplished
dissimulation, he cannot conceal his joy."
" Ventre-sauit'gris /" said the Bearnais, "he is hunting three
thrones to-day : France, Poland, and Navarre, without reckon-
ing the boar."
Then, saluting his wife, Henry returned to his place, and called
one of his servants, a Bearnese, whom he was in the habit of
employing in his love affairs.
'■ Orthon," said he, " take this key to Madame de Sauve's
cousin, at his house, the corner of the Rue des Quatre-fils. Tell
him his cousin wishes to see him this evening ; that he is to go
to my chamber ; if I am not there, he is to wait for me ; and if
I am late, he can lay down in my bed."
" There is no answer, sire ?"
" None, except to tell me if you have seen him. The key is
for him only, you understand ?"
"Yes, sire."
" Stop, blockhead, you must not go off'now : it would create
observation. Before we leave Paris, I will call you, as if my
girth was slackened ; then you can wait behind, discharge your
commission, and join us at Bondy."
Orthon bowed and drew back,
I?—2
228
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
The cavalcade passed down the Rue St.-Honore, the Rue
St.-Denis, then the Fauxbourg. At the Rue St.-Laurent, the
king's saddle became ungirthed; Orthon galloped up, and
everything passed as the king had arranged. The royal cortege
passed down the Rue des Recollets, and the faithful valet
dashed into the Rue du Temple.
When Henry rejoined the king, he was so busy talking to
D'Alen^on about the expected boar, that he either did not per-
ceive or affected not to perceive that Henry had stayed behind.
Madame Marguerite remarked that her. brother seemed em-
barrassed whenever he glanced at Henry. Madame de Nevers
was in high glee, for Coconnaswas in capital vein with his jests.
At a quarter past eight, the cortege arrived at Bondy.
Charles's first care was to inquire whether the boar had broken
cover. The boar, however, the huntsman assured him, was still
in his lair.
A collation was prepared; the king drank a glass of Hun-
garian wine; then, inviting the ladies to seat themselves, he
went to inspect the kennels and the mews, having first given
strict orders that his horse should not be unsaddled meanwhile.
During his absence, the Duke de Guise arrived; he was
armed as if for war, rather than for the chase, and was attended
by twenty or thirty gentlemen in similar array. He went to seek
the king, and returned conversing with him.
At nine o'clock, the king himself sounded the signal for
departure, and every one mounting, hastened to the place of
meeting.
During the journey, Henry again approached his wife.
"Well," said he, "anything new?"
" Nothing, except that my brother looks very strangely at
you."
" I have remarked it myself."
" Have you taken your precautions ?"
" I have my shirt of mail on, and an excellent Spanish
couteau-de-chasse, sharp as a razor, pointed as a needle, with
which I can pierce a crown-piece."
" Well," said Marguerite, " may God guard us !"
The huntsman gave a signal; they were at the boar's lair,
MAUREVEL:
229
CHAPTER XXX.
maurevel.
Whilst the glittering cortege proceeded towards Bondy, the
queen-mother, rolling up the parchment the king had signed,
gave orders to have introduced to her presence the man to whom
the captain of her guards had remitted a letter some days pre-
viously, " Rue de la Cerisaie, Quartier de 1'Arsenal."
A large band of sarsanet covered one of his eyes and only just
left the other visible. His cheek-bones were high, and his nose
curved like the beak of a vulture ; a grizzled beard covered his
chin ; he wore a large thick cloak, beneath which were evident
the hilts of a whole arsenal of weapons. He had at his side a
heavy broadsword, with a basket hilt, and one of his hands
grasped underneath his cloak a long poniard.
" Ah, you are here !" said the queen, seating herself. " I
promised to reward you for the services you rendered us the
night of the St. Bartholomew, and I have found an opportunity
of so doing."
" I humbly thank your majesty," replied the man.
" An opportunity, such as may never again present itself, of
distinguishing yourself."
"I am ready, madame; but I fear, from the preamble,
that "
" That the commission is a rough one. It is, indeed; 'tis
one which might be coveted by a Guise or a Tavannes."
" Madame, whatever it be, I am at your orders."
" Read that," said Catherine; and she gave him the parch-
ment.
He read it, and turned pale.
"What!" cried he; "an order to arrest the King of Navarre?"
" Well, what is there so very astonishing in that!"
" But a king, madame ! I doubt if I am gentleman enough
to arrest a king."
" The confidence I repose in you makes you the first gentle-
man in my court."
" I thank your majesty," returned the assassin—with some
hesitation, however.
"You will obey me, then?"
" If your majesty commands me, it is my duty to obey."
" I do command you."
230
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Then T obey."
" How will you proceed ?"
"I scarcely know —I would fain be guided by your majesty."
"You would do it quietly."
" I confess it."
" Take twelve men, or even more, if necessary."
"I understand; your majesty permits me to make use of
every advantage. But where shall I seize the King of Na-
varre ?"
" Where would you prefer?"
" I should prefer some place where my responsibility "
"Ah, I understand—a royal palace: the Louvre, for in-
stance."
" Oh, if your majesty would permit this it would be a great
favour."
"Arrest him in the Louvre, then.
"In what part?"
" In his own apartments."
Maurevel bowed.
" And when, madame ?" " To-night."
"It shall be done, madame. But deign to tell me what
regard I am to have for his rank !"
" Regard 1—rank !" said Catherine. " Know you not that
the King of France acknowledges no one of a rank equal to
his own, in France ?"
"Yet one other question, madame. Should the king contest
the authenticity of this order—it is not unlikely—but "
" On the contrary, it is certain "
" That he will contest it?"
" Without doubt."
" And that, consequently, he will refuse to obey it ?"
" I fear so."
" And will resist it ?"
" Most likely."
" Zounds !" said Maurevel; " in that case "
" In what case ?" asked Catherine.
" In case he resists."
"What do you do when you have the king's warrant, and a
simple gentleman resists you ?"
" I kill him, madame," returned the bravo.
"I told you "just now that everyone in France is, in the
king's eyes but a simple gentleman."
MAUREVEL
23*
Maurevel turned pale, for he began to understand.
" Oh, oh 1" said he, " kill the King of Navarre !"
"Who spoke of killing him ? This order is only to conduct
him to the Bastille. If he suffers himself to be arrested quietly,
well and good : but if he resists, and seeks to kill you "
Maurevel grew still paler.
" You will, of course, defend yourself. A brave soldier
like you cannot be expected to suffer, himself to be killed ;
and then, in your own defence, happen what will—you under-
stand ?"
" Yes, madame."
" Come, you want me to write on the order the words—
Dead or alive ?"
" I confess that would remove my scruples."
" Well—I must do it, I suppose."
And unrolling the warrant with one hand, with the other she
wrote, " Dead or alive."
" Is the order sufficiently formal now ?" she asked.
"Yes, madame ; but I pray you, let me have the execution
of it entirely to myself."
" Will anything I have said interfere ?'
"Your majesty bade me take twelve men."
" Well ?"
" I request your permission to take only six."
" Why ?"
"Because six guards may be excused for being afraid of
losing a prisoner; twelve would never be."
" Do as you will," said Catherine. " Meantime, you must
not quit the Louvre."
" But how shall I collect my men ?"
" Have you no person you can employ in this ?"
" There is my servant, a trusty fellow, who sometimes aids me
in such things."
" Send for him and arrange your plans. You will breakfast
in the king's armoury. When he returns from hunting, you can
go to my oratory, and wait there till the hour comes."
" How shall we get into the king's chamber ? he, doubtless,
has his suspicions, and fastens the door within."
" I have keys that open all the doors in the Louvre ; and
the bolts have been removed from his door. Adieu, M. do
Maurevel. Remember, any failure would compromise the king's
honour."
232
MARGUERITE DE VALOlS.
And Catherine, without leaving Maurevel time to reply,
called M. de Nancey, the captain of her guards, and bade him
conduct Maurevel into the king's armoury.
" Mordieu /" said Maurevel. "Iam rising in my profession.
First I killed a simple gentleman, then I shot at an admiral,
now 'tis a king without a crown: who knows but some day I
may have to settle a king with a crown !"
CHAPTER XXXI.
the boar-hunt.
The huntsman was not deceived when he affirmed that the
game had not broken covert. Scarcely had the hounds entered,
when the boar, which was, as the huntsman had said, one of the
largest size, appeared.
The animal passed within fifty paces of the king, followed
only by the hound which had roused him; but twenty dogs
were speedily uncoupled, and laid on his track.
The chase was Charles's passion; and scarcely had the
animal appeared than he dashed after him, followed by the Duke
d'Alengon and Henry, who had received a sign from Marguerite,
warning him not to lose sight of the king. The other hunts-
men followed.
In a quarter of an hour some impassable thickets presented
themselves, and Charles returned to the glade, cursing and
swearing as was his wont:
"Zounds ! D'Alen^on, zounds ! Harry, here you are, calm
and milklike as nuns following the abbess in procession. Do
you call that hunting ? You, D'Alen§on, look as if you had
just come out of a box; you are so perfumed, that if you get
between the boar and the dogs, you will spoil the scent; and
you, Harry, where is your boar-spear ? where is your arque-
buss ?"
" Sire," said Henry, " what is the use of an arquebuss ? I
know your majesty likes to shoot the boar at bay. As for the
boar-spear, it is never used in my country, where we hunt the
bear with the simple poniard."
" Mordieu /' replied Charles, " you must send me a cartload
of bears when you go back to the Pyrenees. It must be glorious
sport to contend foot to foot with an animal that may strangle
one in a minute. ■ Hark ! I think I hear them. No !"
THE BOAR-HUNT
The king blew a blast on his horn that was answered by
several others. At this moment a huntsman appeared, and
sounded another note.
" Seen ! seen !" cried the king; and he set spurs to his horse,
followed by all around him.
The huntsman was right: as the king advanced, the pack,
now composed of more than sixty dogs, was heard distinctly.
The king no sooner saw the boar pass a second time, than he
pursued him at full speed, blowing his horn with all his might.
The princes followed him some time ; but the king's horse
was so strong, and bore him over such difficult ways^ through
such thick coverts, that first the ladies, then the Duke tie Guise
and the gentlemen, and then the two princes, were fain to draw
rein. Tavannes followed him awhile longer, but he, in his turn,
was compelled to give it up.
All then, except the king and a few huntsmen, incited by the
hope of reward, found themselves near the glade they had
started from. The two princes were side by side in a long,
broad forest-path, the Duke de Guise and his attendants at
some little distance on.
" Does' it not seem," said the Duke d'Alen^on to Henry,
" that this man, with his armed retinue, is the real king ? He
does not deign to glance at us poor princes."
" Why should he treat us better than we are treated by our
own relations ? You and I are but the hostages of our party at
the court."
The duke started and looked at Henry, as if calling for
further explanation, but the latter remained silent.
" What mean you ?" asked Francois, evidently chagrined at
his brother-in-law's compelling him to pursue the subject.
"I mean," returned Henry, "that all these armed men seem
like guards stationed to prevent two persons from escaping."
" From escaping ! why ? how ?" asked the duke, with admir-
ably affected surprise.
" You have a magnificent genet there, D'Alen5on," said
Henry, affecting to change the conversation, and yet adroitly
pursuing the subject; " I am sure he would do fourteen miles
in an hour, and forty between this and midday. See, what a
beautiful cross-road there is that way : does it not invite you to
loosen rein ? As for me, I should like a gallop vastly."
Francois made no reply, but turned very red, and affected to
listen for the hunters.
234
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" The news from Poland has taken effect," thought Henry.
" My dear brother-in-law has a plan of his own. He is willing
enough I should be off; but I don't fly alone, he may rely
upon it."
At this moment, several converts from Protestantism, who
had been but a short time at the court, came up, and saluted
the princes with a meaning smile.
The Duke d'Alengon needed but to say one word, to make
but one sign ; for it was evident that the thirty of forty cavaliers
collected, as if by chance, round him, were ready to oppose M.
de Guise's troop, and favour his flight. The duke, however,
turned his head, and placing his horn to his lips, blew a recall.
Still, the new-comers, as if they believed the duke's hesita-
tion arose from the presence of the Guisards, gradually placed
themselves between that party and the princes, in a manner that
showed they were well accustomed to military manoeuvres. In
order to reach the Duke d'Alentjon and the King of Navarre,
it would be necessary for the Guise party to pass through them;
whilst as far as the eye could reach, the cross-road was free.
Suddenly, between the trees, at ten paces from the king, ap-
peared a gentleman, whom the two princes had not yet seen.
"Whilst Henry was conjecturing who he could be, he raised his
hat, and displayed the features of the Vicomte de Turenne, one
of the Protestant leaders, who was believed to be in Poictou.
The vicomte made a sign that asked :
" Will you come ?"
But Henry, after consulting the immovable visage or the
Duke d'Alen^on, turned his head two or three times, as if some-
thing in his collar hurt him.
The vicomte understood him, and instantly disappeared.
Suddenly the hounds were again heard ; and at the extremity
of the ride, in which were the princes, the boar passed, and then
the dogs, and then, looking like the wild huntsman, Charles,
bareheaded, and blowing his horn furiously : three or four hunts-
men rode after him : Tavannes was not there.
" The king !" cried D'Alen§on, and he instantly galloped after
him.
Reassured by the presence of his friends, whom he motioned
not to leave him, Henry advanced to the ladies.
" Well," said Marguerite.
" Well, madame," said Henry, " we are hunting the boar."
" Is that all ?"
THE BOAR-HUNT.
235
" The wind has changed since the morning, as I predicted to
you it would."
" These changes of the wind are very bad for hunting, are
they not, sir?" said Marguerite.
"Yes ; sometimes they disturb all our arrangements, and we
have to form a new plan altogether."
The pack was now heard, and every one turned to listen.
Suddenly the boar broke out of the wood, and dashed by the
ladies and their gallants.
Behind him, close on his haunches, came forty or fifty hounds,
and then the king, bareheaded, without hat or mantle, his dress
torn by the thorns, his hands and face all bloody; only one or
two huntsmen kept up with him.
" Hallali ! hallali !" cried he, as he passed, placing his horn
to his bleeding lips, and boar, dogs, and king disappeared like
a vision.
Immediately after them came D'Alengon, and two or three
piqueurs.
Every one followed, for it was plain the boar would soon be
brought to bay.
And so it happened : in less than ten minutes, the boar,
coming to an open spot, placed his back against a rock, and
prepared himself for a desperate struggle.
The most interesting moment of the chase was come : the
dogs, though well-nigh breathless with a chase of more than
three hours, rushed upon the boar.
All the hunters ranged themselves in a circle—the king a
little in advance, the Duke d'Alengon behind him with his
arquebuss, and Henry, who had only his hunting-knife.
The Duke d'Alengon lighted the match of his arquebuss ;
Henry loosened his knife in its sheath.
The Duke de Guise, who despised all such sports, remained
in the background with his party.
At some distance was a piqueur, who with difficulty held back
the king's two huge boar-hounds, which, struggling and baying,
awaited anxiously the moment when they should be let loose
upon their prey.
The animal fought most gallantly; attacked at once by forty
dogs, surrounding him like a raging sea, he at every stroke of
his tusk hurled into the air one of the gallant creatures, torn and
dying. In ten minutes, twenty dogs were killed or disabled.
" Let loose the hounds !" cried the king.
236
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
The piqueur opened the swivel of the leashes, and the two
huge animals, protected by their coats of mail, dashed through
the thickest of the fray, and seized the boar each by an ear.
" Bravo, Risque-tout ! bravo, Dure-Dent!" cried Charles.
" A boar-spear ! a boar-spear !"
" Will you have my arquebuss ?" said D'Alengon.
" No, no !" cried the king, " there is no pleasure in shooting
him; but 'tis delicious to feel the SDear going in. A spear ! a
spear!"
One was presented to him.
" Take care, Charles," said Marguerite.
"To him ! to him !"
" Do not miss him, sire. Pierce the heretic through and
through !" cried the Duchess de Nevers.
" Never fear !" replied the king ; and levelling his spear, he
rushed at the boar. But at the sight of the glittering steel, the
animal made so sudden a movement, that the spear glanced off
his shoulder, and broke against the rock. " Milles noms dun
diable ! I have missed !" cried Charles, impatiently. " Another
spear!"
And backing his steed, like the knights of old in a tourna-
ment, he cast away the broken weapon.
A piqueur advanced to offer him another.
But as if he foresaw his fate, and sought to avoid it, the boar,
by a violent effort, burst from the dogs, and, his hair bristling,
his mouth foaming with rage, and clashing his tusks together,
he rushed at Charles.
The king was too good a sportsman not to have foreseen this
attack. Pulling hard on the rein, he made his horse rear; but
either from the curb being too tightly pressed, or from fear, the
animal fell back upon his rider.
A cry burst from every one ; the king's thigh was caught be-
tween the saddle and the ground.
" Let the bridle go, sire," cried Henry.
The king abandoned his hold of the rein, seized the saddle
with his left hand, and with his right strove to draw his hunting-
knife, but in vain; the sheath was so tightly pressed by his
body as to render that impossible.
" The boar ! the boar!" cried Charles. " Help, help,
D'Alen?on."
The horse, as if he comprehended the danger of his master,
rose on his forefeet, when Henry saw D'Alen§on turn ghastly
THE BOAR-HUNT.
237
pale as he placed his arquebuss to his shoulder and fired.
The ball, instead of hitting the boar, struck the foreleg of the
king's horse, which instantly fell again.
" Oh !" murmured D'Alentjon, his lips blanched with fear, " I
think that D'Anjou is King of France, and I King of Poland !"
And, in fact, the boar's tusk already grazed Charles' thigh,
when the king felt his arm raised, and saw a bright blade flash
before his eyes, and bury itself up to the hilt behind the boar's
shoulder, while a hand, gloved in iron, was dashed against the
mouth of the monster.
Charles had by this time freed himself from his struggling
horse, and rose with difficulty ; when he saw his dress streaming
with blood, he grew still paler than before.
" Sire," said Henry, who, still on one knee, kept his knife in
the boar's breast, " you are not hurt; I turned the tusk aside
in time." He then rose, leaving the knife in the boar, which
turned over dead, bleeding still more profusely from the mouth
even than from the wound.
Charles, surrounded by a crowd of courtiers, all sending forth
cries of terror, seemed for a moment about to fall by the dead
boar; but recovering himself, he turned to the King of Navarre,
with his eyes beaming with the first ray of sensibility that had
touched his heart for full four-and-twenty years.
" Thanks ! Harry," said he.
" My poor brother," said D'Alengon, coming up to him.
" Ah, is that you, D'Alengon !" cried the king. " Well, fa-
mous marksman that you are, where is your ball ?"
" It must have flattened upon the boar, no doubt."
" Eh, 111011 Dieu" said Henry, with an air of surprise, ad-
mirably feigned, " your ball has broken the leg of the king's
horse. How very singular !"
"Ah ! is that so?" said the king.
" Perhaps," replied the duke, all consternation; "my hand
trembled so."
" Humph ! for a first-rate marksman you made a most curious
shot, D'Alengon," said Charles, frowning; " once more, Harry,
thanks !"
Marguerite advanced to congratulate the king, and thank her
husband.
" Oh, by my faith, Margot,you may well thank him, heartily,"
said Charles; " but for him the King of France would be
Jienry III."
233
MARGUERITE DE v/lOlS.
" Alas, madame," returned Henry, " M. d'Anjou, who is
already my enemy, will be more than ever so, now; but every
one does what he can. Ask M. d'Aleni^on else "
And, stooping down, he withdrew his knife from the body of
the boar, and plunged it several times into the earth to cleanse
it from the blood.
And now, ladies and gentlemen," said the king, " home-
ward ! I have had enough for one day."
CHAPTER XXX[I.
fraternity.
In saving the life of Charles, Henry had done more than save
the life of a man—he had prevented three kingdoms from
changing sovereigns.
Had Charles IX. been killed, the Duke d'Anjou would
have been King of France, and the Duke d'Alencon most prob-
ably King of Poland. As to Navarre, as the Duke d'Anjou
was enamoured of Madame de Conde, that crown would in all
probability have paid the husband for the complaisance of his
w ife.
In all this confusion, nothihg beneficial would have arisen
for Henry. He would have changed his master, that was all;
and instead of Charles IX., who tolerated him, he would have
seen the Duke d'Anjou on the throne, who, having but one
head and one heart with his mother Catherine, had sworn his
death, and would have kept his oath.
These were the ideas that floated through his brain when
the wild boar had rushed on King Charles, and we have seen
the result of this reflection, rapid as lightning, that the life of
Charles IX. was bound up with his own exisience.
Charles IX., then, was saved by a devotion, whose spring
and action he could not comprehend. Marguerite, however,
had comprehended it fully, and had admired the strange cou-
rage of Henry, which, like lightning, shone only in the dark.
Henry, as he returned to Bondy, reflected deeply on his
situation, and when he reached the Louvre, he had resolved on
his plan of action. Without taking off his boots, but all dusty
and covered with blood as he was, he went to the Duke d'Alen-
gon, whom he found greatly agitated, and pacing hastily up
and dpwn his chamber.
FRA TERNI7 V.
239
The prince started when he saw him.
"Yes," said Henry, to him, taking both his hands, "yes, 1
understand, my good brother, you are angry with me, because
I was the first to call the king's attention to the fact of your
ball having struck his horse's leg instead of the boar, as was
your aim. But I could not repress an exclamation, and besides,
the king had perceived it."
"Doubtless, doubtless!" muttered D'Alengon ; "yet lean-
not but attribute to a bad intention your pointing out this fact,
which you must have seen has made my brother Charles sus-
picious of my purpose, and thrown a cloud between us."
" We will talk of this anon; and as to my good or bad in-
tention, I have come now to make you a judge of that."
" Humph," said D'Alengon.
" My brother, your interests are too dear to me to allow me
to keep from you that the Huguenots have made me certain
proposals." " Proposals? what sort of proposals?"
" One of the leaders, M. de Mouy de Saint-Phale, and son
cf the brave De Mouy assassinated by Maurevel, has been
with me at the risk of his life, to prove to me that I was in
captivity."
" Ah, indeed, and what reply did you make ?"
"My brother, you know how tenderly I love Charles, who
saved my life ; and that the queen-mother has been a mother
to me. I have therefore refused all the offers he made me."
" And what were these offers ?"
"The Huguenots wished to reconstitute the throne of Na-
varre ; and-as in reality this throne belonged to me by inheri-
tance, they offered it to me."
"Yes, and M. de Mouy, instead of the adhesion he had en-
treated, received your refusal ?"
" Most decidedly ; but since " continued Henry.
"You have repented, my brother?" interrupted D'Alengon.
" No; but I have found that M. de Mouy, enraged at my
refusal, has cast his eyes in another direction."
"Whither?" asked Francois, quickly.
" I do not know ; on the Prince de Conde', perchance."
"Very probably," was the reply.
" I have, however, a certain means of ascertaining the chief
he has selected."
Fran$qis became very pale.
" But," continued Henry, " the Huguenots are divided
240
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
amongst themselves; and De Mouy, brave and loyal as he is,
represents but one half the party. Now, the other half, which
is not to be despised, has not lost all hope of seeing on the
throne that Henry of Navarre, who, after having hesitated in
the first instance, may have reflected afterwards."
" Do you think so?''
" I have daily proofs of this. The troop that joined us at
the hunt—did you remark the men who composed it ?"
" Yes; they were converted gentlemen."
" The chief of this troop, who made me a sign—did you re-
cognise him ?"
" Yes; it was the Vicomte de Turenne."
" Did you understand what they wished?"
" Yes ; they proposed to you to fly."
"Then," said Henry, "it is evident that there is a second
party with different views from M. de Mouy, and that a very
powerful one; so that, in order to succeed, it is requisite to
unite the two parties, Turenne and De Mouy. The conspiracy
strengthens—troops are ready—they but await the signal—and
between my two resolutions I waver; and have, therefore, come
to submit them to you as a friend."
" Say rather as a brother !"
" First, let me expose the state of my mind, my dear Francis:
no desire, no ambition, no capacity. I am a good sort of
country gentleman—poor, indolent, and timid: the idea of
conspirator presents to me a chance of disgrace, badly com-
pensated by even the assured perspective of a crown."
"Ah, my brother!" said Francois, "you are wrong; "no-
thing can be more pitiable than the position of a prince whose
fortune is limited by a landmark, or by some individual in the
career of honour. I cannot, therefore, credit what you say."
" Yet I speak only the truth, my brother," was Henry's
reply ; " and if I could believe that I had a real friend, I would
resign in his favour all the power which the party attached
to me would confer; but," he added with a sigh, " I have not
one."
" Perhaps you are mistaken."
" No, ventre-saint-gris /" cried Henry. " Except yourself,
brother, I see no one who is attached to me ; and then, I must
inform my brother the king of all that is going on. I will name
po person—I will not mention country, nor date; but X >vifl
prevent the catastrophe,"
FRATERNITY,
241
" Grand Dieu /" exclaimed D'Alengon, who could not re-
press his alarm ; " what are you saying ? You, the sole hope
of the party since the admiral's death ; you, a converted Hu-
guenot—scarce converted, as it would seem—would you raise
the knife against your brothers ? Henry, Henry, in doing
that you will hand over to a second Saint Bartholomew all the
Calvinists of the kingdom ! Do you know that Catherine
only awaits such an opportunity to exterminate all the sur-
vivors ?"
And the trembling duke, his face marked with red and livid
spots, pressed Henry's hand, in his eagerness to make him
promise to renounce a resolution which must destroy him.
" What!" said Henry, with an air of much surprise, " do you
think, Frangois, that so many misfortunes must then occur ?
Yet it seems to me that, with the king's guarantee, I could
save the imprudent partisans."
" The guarantee of King Charles the Ninth, Henry ? Did
not the admiral have it? Teligny? yourself? Ah, Henry! I
tell you, if you do this, you destroy them all; not only them,
but also all directly or indirectly connected with them."
Henry appeared to reflect for a moment:
"If," he said, "I were an important prince at court, I
should act otherwise ; in your place, for instance, Frangois, a
son of France, and probable heir to the throne."
Frangois shook his head sceptically, and said, " What would
you do in my place ?"
" In your place, my brother," replied Henry, " I should put
myself at the head of this movement. My name and credit
would answer to my conscience for the life of the seditious ; and
I would derive from it something useful for myself, in the first
instance, and then for the king ; and this from an enterprise
which otherwise may terminate in great mischief for France."
D'Alengon listened to these words with a joy which expanded
all the muscles of his face, and replied :
" Do you think this practicable, and will avoid all those evils
which you foresee ?"
" I do," said Henry. "The Huguenots like you : your modest
exterior, your situation, elevated and interesting at the same
time, and the kindness you have always evinced to those of the
Reformed faith, induce them to serve you."
" But," said D'Alengon, " there is a schism in the party :
will those who are for you be for me ?"
16
242 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" I will undertake to conciliate them, -on two grounds."
" What are they ?"
" In the first place, through the confidence which the chiefs
have in me; then from their fear when your highness, knowing
their names But without further persuasion, my brother,
take up this matter. Reign in Navarre; and so that you keep
for me a place at your table and a good forest for hurrting, I
shall be perfectly happy."
" Reign in Navarre !" said the duke; "but if "
"If the Duke d'Anjou is named King of Poland?—you
would say."
Frangois cast a look of terror on Henry.
"If the Duke d'Anjou is nominated King of Poland, and
our brother Charles (whom God preserve !) should die, it is but
two hundred leagues from Pau to Paris, whilst it is four hun-
dred from Paris to Cracow ; and you would be here to claim
the inheritance at the moment when the King of Poland would
only have learned of its being vacated. Then, if you are satis-
fied with me, Frangois, you may give me this kingdom of
Navarre, which will then be only one of the offshoots of your
crown. Under these circumstances I would accept it. The
worst that can arrive is, to remain king there, and live en
famille with me and my wife; whilst here, what are you?—a
poor, persecuted prince, a poor third son of the king, a slave of
two elder brothers, whom a caprice may send to the Bastille."
" Yes, yes," said Frangois : *' I feel all this so, well, that I
cannot understand how you renounce all the hopes that you
propose for me."
" There are," said Henry, with a smile, "burthens too heavy
for certain hands. I shall not try to lift this one."
"Then, Henry, you really renounce?"
" I said so to De Mouy, and I repeat it to you."
"'But in such cases, brother," said D'Alengon, "men do not
say, they prove."
" I will prove it this evening," was the reply; " at nine
o'clock, the list of the chiefs and the plan of the enterprise
shall be in your hands."
Frangois took Henry's hand, and pressed it with fervour.
At the same moment, Catherine entered the apartment, and,
as usual, without being announced.
" Together," she said, with a smile, " like two loving
brothers."
FRATERNITY.
243
" I hope so, madame," replied Henry, with the utmost com.
posure, whilst the Duke d'Alenfon turned pale with agony.
The queen-mother then took from her gypsire.a magnificent
jewel, and said to Francois (from whom Henry had receded
several paces), " This clasp comes from Florence, and I give
it you to fasten your swordthen she added, in a low voice :
" If you should hear any noise this evening in the apartment
of your good brother Henry, do not heed it."
Francois grasped his mother's hand, and said: " Will you
allow me to show him the handsome present you have just
made me ?" - •
" Do still better; give it to him in your own and my name,
for I had ordered a second for that purpose."
"Do you hear, Henry?" said Francois; "my good mother
brings me this jewel, and redoubles its value by allowing me to
offer it to you."
Henry went into raptures at the beauty of the jewel, and was
profuse in his thanks.
" My son," said Catherine, "I do not feel well, and am
going to bed.', Your brother Charles is much shaken by his
fall, and wishes to do the same thing. We shall not, therefore,
all sup together.—Ah, Henry ! I forgot to compliment you on
your courage and skill : you have saved your king and brother,
and you must be recompensed for such high service."
" I am recompensed already," replied Henry, with a bow.
" By the feeling that you have done your duty ?" was Cathe-
rine's reply; " but that is not enough for Charles and myself,
and we must devise some means of requiting our obligations
towards you."
" All that may come from you and my good brother must be
welcome, madame," was Henry's reply; and, bowing, he left
the apartment.
"Ah, my worthy brother Francis!" thought Henry, as he
. went out; " now I am sure not to go away alone; and the
conspiracy, which had a heart, has now found a head, and what
is still better, this head is responsible to me for my own : only
let us be on our guard. Catherine has made me a present—•
Catherine promises me a recompense ; there is some devilry
or other, then, brewing, and I will have a conversation this
evening with Marguerite."
16—2
244
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
the gratitude of king charles the ninth.
Maurevel had remained for a portion of the day in the king's
armoury; and when Catherine saw the moment approach of
the return from the chase, she had desired him and his satel-
lites to pass into her oratory.
Charles IX., informed by his nurse, on his arrival, who the
man was, and remembering the order his mother had extracted
from him in the morning, understood everything.
" Ah, ah !" he murmured, " the time is ill-chosen, on the
very day on which he has saved my life."
And he was about to go to his mother, but suddenly changed
his intention.
"Mordieu /" he exclaimed, " if I speak to her of it, what a
discussion will ensue ! We had better act each for one's self.—
Nurse," he continued, "shut all the doors, and inform the
Queen Elizabeth" (Charles IX. was married to Elizabeth of
Austria, daughter of Maximilian), " that, being rather unwell
from my fall, I shall sleep in my own apartment to-night."
The nurse obeyed; and as the hour for his plan had not
arrived, Charles began to write verses. It was the occupation
in which he most delighted : and thus nine o'clock struck, when
Charles thought it was only seven. He counted the strokes
one after the other, and at the last he rose: " Nom d'un
diable /" he exclaimed, "it is precisely the time."
Taking his cloak and hat, he went out by a secret door
which he had made in the panelling, and of the existence of
which Catherine herself was ignorant.
Charles went straight to Henry's apartment. Henry had
only gone thither to change his dress, when he left the Duke
d'Alengon, and had then left it instantly.
" He must have gone to sup with Marguerite," said the king
to himself; " he was on the best possible terms with her; at
least, it appeared so to me and he went towards Marguerite's
apartment.
Marguerite had invited to her rooms the Duchess de Nevers,
Coconnas, and La Mole, and they were "enjoying a repast of
pastry and sweetmeats.
Charles knocked at the door : Gillonne went to open it, and
was so frightened at the sight of the king, that she could scarcely
THE GRA TITUDE OF KING CHARLES THE NINTH. 245
curtsey to him ; and instead of running to inform her mistress
of the august visit which was paid her, she allowed Charles to
pass her without any other signal than the cry she had uttered,
The king crossed the antechamber, and, guided by the shouts
of laughter, advanced towards the dining-room.
" Poor Harry !" he ejaculated, " he is making merry, quite
unconscious of his danger,"
"Tis I!" he said, aloud, and raising the tapestry, presented
his face, which was all smiling.
Marguerite uttered a terrible cry. All joyous as was the
king's face, it produced on her the effect of a Medusa's head.
She had recognised Charles.
The two men had their backs turned to the king.
" His majesty !" she exclaimed, in a tone of affright, and she
rose from her seat.
Coconnas, whilst the three others felt quite bewildered, was
the only one who preserved his presence of mind. He also
rose, but with well-contrived awkwardness, upset .the table, with
its glass, plates, and wax lights; and in a moment there was
complete darkness, and the silence of death.
" Steal off!" said Coconnas to La Mole ; " quick—quick, and
cleverly."
La Mole did not wait for a second hint, but feeling along the
wall with his hands, groped his way into the bedchamber, that
he might hide in the closet he knew so well.
But as he entered the sleeping-room, he came in contact with
a man who entered by the secret passage.
"What can all this mean?" said Charles, in the dark, with
a voice that was beginning to sound very impatiently ; "am I
an intruder, that on my appearance such a scene of confusion
takes place. Harry—Harry ! where are you ?—answer me !"
" We are saved !" whispered Marguerite, taking a hand which
she supposed to be that of Coconnas; " the king thinks that my
husband is one of the guests."
" And he shall think so still, madame, be assured," said Henry
himself to the queen, in the same tone.
" Grand Dieu /" exclaimed Marguerite, suddenly quitting her
grasp of the hand she held.
" Hush !" said Henry.
" In the name of ten thousand devils ! what are you all
whispering for ?" cried Charles. " Henry, answer—where a^e
you ?"
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
" I am here, sire," said the voice of the King of Navarre.
" The devil!" said Coconnas ; " the plot thickens."
''And we are doubly lost," added the Duchess de Nevers.
Coconnas, brave even to rashness, had reflected that at last
the candles must be lighted, and thinking the sooner the better,
left the hand of the Duchess de Nevers, which he had hitherto
held in his own, picked up a taper, and going to the stove,
lighted it.
The room was thus again illuminated, and Charles cast an in-
quiring glance around.
Henry was close to his wife; the Duchess de Nevers was
alone in a corner ; and Coconnas, standing in the middle of
the chamber with his candle in his hand, lighted up the whole
scene.
" Excuse us, brother," said Marguerite ; " we did not expect
you."
" And so your majesty, as you may see, has frightened us not
a little," said Henriette.
" For my part," added Henry, who at once comprehended the
whole, " I was so startled that I upset the table."
Coconnas gave the King of Navarre a look which implied :
" I like that!—here's a husband who knows what he is about!"
"What a complete upset!" said Charles. "Harry, your
supper is regularly spoiled ; so come with me, and you shall
finish it elsewhere. I mean to carry you off this evening."
" What, sire !" said Henry ; " your majesty will do me that
honour ?"
" Yes, my majesty will do you the honour to take you from
the Louvre. Lend him to me, Marguerite, audi will bring him
back again to-rr.orrow morning."
" Ah, brother," replied Marguerite, " you have no need of
my permission for that ; you are master here, as everywhere
else." "Sire," said Henry, "I will just go for another cloak,
and return immediately."
" There's no occasion; the one you have on is quite good
enough."
" But, sire " said the Bearnais.
" I tell you not to return to your apartments, mille nomsd'un
diable ! don't you hear what I say ? Come along !"
" Yes—yes, go !" said1 Marguerite, pressing her husband's arm,
for a singular look of Charles's had convinced her that something
remarkable was going on.
THE GRATITUDE OF KING CHARLES THE NINTH. 247
" I am ready, sire," said Henry.
But Charles was looking very steadfastly at Coconnas, who'
continued his office of torch-bearer, by lighting the other
candles.
" Who is this gentleman ?" he inquired of Henry, still gazing-
on the Piedmontese; " is it M. de la Mole ?"
"Who has mentioned M. de la Mole to him?" thought
Marguerite.
" No, sire," replied Henry ; " M. de la Mole is not here, and
I regret it the more, as I cannot have the honour of presenting
him to your majesty as well as his friend, M. de Coconnas :
they are inseparables, and are both in the suite of M.
d'Alengon."
" Ah ! ah ! of our famous marksman !" said Charles; then
frowning, he added, " Is not M. de la Mole a Huguenot?"
" Converted, sire," said Henry; " and I answer for him as
for myself."
" When you answer for any one, Harry, after what you have
done to-day, I have no right to doubt you. But no matter. I
should have liked to see M. de la Mole, but some other time
will do and then, looking again around the chamber, Charles
kissed Marguerite, and took away the King of Navarre, holding
him by the arm.
At the gate of the Louvre, Henry stopped to speak to some
one.
" Come, come along quickly, Harry," said Charles. " When
I tell you the air of the Louvre is not good for you this evening,
why the devil don't you believe me ?"
" Ventre-sciint-gris /" murmured Henry, "and De Mouy will
be all alone in my room; if the air is not good for me, it must
be worse for him."
They crossed the drawbridge, and the king giving a peculiar
whistle, four gentlemen who were waiting in the Rue de Beau-
vais joined them, and they all advanced into the city.
The clock struck ten.
" Well!" said Marguerite, when the king and Henry had gone,
" let us sit down again to table."
" No, ma foi /" said the duchess ; "I am too much frightened.
The little house in the Rue Cloche-Percee for ever ! No one
can enter there without laying a regular siege, and our brave
friends could use their swords."
Coconnas went to the cabinet.
248
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
"Well!" said a voice in the darkness, " what has happened ?"
" Eh, mordi ! we are now at the dessert.'3
" And the King of Navarre ?"
" Has seen nothing."
" And King Charles T
" Ah ! the king has taken off the husband."
" No, really!"
" Yes, and the ladies have a pilgrimage to make towards the
Rue du Roi-de-Sicile, and we must guard the pilgrims."
" Impossible ! you know that "
" Why impossible ?"
" Why, are we not in the service of his royal highness ?"
The two friends represented their position to their fair friends
and Madame de Nevers said :
" Well, then, we will go without you
The two young men made their bows, and proceeded to the
Duke d'Alengon, who seemed to be awaiting them.
" You are rather late, gentlemen," was his remark.
" Scarcely ten o'clock, monseigneur," replied Coconnas.
The duke looked at his watch.
"True, but yet everybody in the Louvre is in bed."
" Monseigneur," said Coconnas, " your highness, no doubt,
will go to bed, or write "
"No, gentlemen, I can dispense with your services until to
morrow morning."
The two young men ran up stairs as speedily as possible,
took their cloaks and night-swords, and hastening out of the
Louvre, overtook the two ladies at the corner of the Rue du
Coq-Saint-Honore.
CHAPTER XXXIY.
MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES.
As the duke said, everything was silent at the Louvre.
Marguerite and Madame de Nevers had gone to the Rue
Cloche-Percee; Coconnas and La Mole had followed them;
the king and Henry were roving about in the city; the Duke
d'Alengon was anxiously watching the accomplishment of the
events his mother had alluded to, and Catherine was in bed,
listening to Madame de Sauve, who read to her certain Italian
tales, at which the worthy queen laughed heartily.
MAN PROPOSES BUT GOD DISPOSES. 249
" Let me know," said Catherine, "if my daughter, the Queen
of Navarre, is in her apartments, and if she is, beg her to come
and keep me company."
The page to whom this order was addressed left the room,
and soon returned, accompanied by Gillonne.
" I sent for the queen," said Catherine, " not for her at-
tendant."
" Madame," replied Gillonne, " I thought it my duty to come
myself, to inform your majesty that the Queen of Navarre is
gone out with the Duchess de Nevers."
" Out at this hour !" said Catherine, frowning; " where is she
gone ?"
"To a meeting of alchemists, at the Hotel de Guise, in the
apartments of Madame de Nevers."
" And when will she return ?"
"The meeting will not break up until very late," replied
Gillonne, " so that it is probable her majesty will sleep at the
Hotel de Guise."
" She is very happy," murmured Catherine; " she has friends,
and is a queen; she wears a crown, and is called your majesty,
and she has no subjects."
Gillonne made her curtsey, and left the room.
" Go on, Charlotte," said the queen.
Madame de Sauve obeyed.
In ten minutes Catherine stopped her.
"Oh, by the way," said she, "dismiss the guards in the
gallery."
This was the signal agreed upon with Maurevel.
The order was executed, and Madame de Sauve continued.
She had read for a quarter of an hour, when a long and
piercing cry was heard, that made the hair of all in the chamber
stand on end.
A pistol-shot followed.
"Well," said Catherine, " why do you not go on reading ?"
" Madame," replied Charlotte, turning deadly pale; " did not
your majesty hear?"
" What ?" asked Catherine.
"That cry!"
" And that pistol-shot ?" added the captain of the guards.
" A cry and a pistol-shot !" said Catherine, " I heard them
not; besides, a cry and a pistol-shot are nothing so very extra-
ordinary at the Louvre. Read on, Carlotta."
250
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"But listen, madame," said Madame de Sauve, whilst M. de
Nancey stood grasping his sword-hilt, not daring to leave the
apartment without the queen's permission, " I hear struggling,
imprecations "
" Shall I go and see, madame?" asked De Nancey.
" No, sir," returned Catherine. " Who will be here to protect
me in case of danger? It is only some drunken Swiss quarrelling."
The tranquillity of the queen contrasted so strangely with
the alarm of every one else, that Madame de Sauve, timid as
she was, fixed her eyes inquiringly on her.
" But, inadame," said she, " it is as if they were killing some
one."
" Whom do you think they are killing ?"
" The King of Navarre, madame; for the noise comes from
his apartments."
" The fool 1" murmured the queen, whose lips, spite of the
control she had over herself, were strangely agitated, for she was
muttering a prayer; " the fool! she sees her King of Navarre
everywhere."
" M011 Dieu ! mon Dieu /" said Madame de Sauve, sinking
into her chair.
" It is over," said Catherine. " Captain," continued she,
addressing M. de Nancey, " I hope that to-morrow you will
inquire into this, and punish the culprits severely. Continue,
Carlotta."
And Catherine sank back on her pillow in a state that seemed
near akin to fainting, for her attendants remarked large drops
of perspiration on her face.
Madame de Sauve obeyed, but her eyes and her voice alone
were engaged. She fancied she saw him most, dear to her, sur-
rounded by deadly perils, and after a mental struggle of some
minutes, her voice failed her, the book fell from her hands, and
she fainted.
Suddenly a still more violent noise than before was heard, a
hasty step shook the corridor, two more pistol-shots made the
window-panes shake. Catherine, astonished at this renewal of
the strife, rose; she was deadly pale, her eyes were dilated, and
at the moment De Nancey was about to rush from the apart-
ment, she seized his arm, saying:
" Let every one stay here ; I will go myself and see what is
the matter."
Thus it was: De Mouy had received that morning, from the
MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES.
251
hands of Orthon, the key of Henry's chamber; in the key he
remarked a small roll of paper, which he took out and found it
to contain the pass-word at the Louvre for the night.
Orthon had, moreover, given him the king's directions to be
at the Louvre at ten o'clock.
At half-past nine, De Mouy put on his armour, buttoned a
silken doublet on it, buckled over his sword, placed his pistols
in his belt, and covered all with the famous cherry mantle.
We have seen how Llenry thought fit to pay Marguerite a
visit before entering his own apartments, and how he arrived
by the secret passage just in time to run against La Mole in
Marguerite's chamber, and to take his place in the supper-room.
Precisely at this moment, De Mouy passed the wiiket of the
Louvre, and, thanks to the pass-word and the cherry mantle,
entered the palace without obstacle.
He went straight to the King of Navarre's apartments, imi-
tating, as well as he could, La Mole's walk and manner. He
found Orthon waiting for him in the antechamber.
"Sire de Mouy," said the mountaineer, "the king has gone
out, but he has ordered me to conduct you to his chamber,
where you are to wait: should he not come until late, he desires
you will lie down on his bed."
De Mouy entered, without asking further explanation.
In order to fill up the time, De Mouy took pen and paper,
and approaching an excellent map of France that hung on the
wall, set himself to count the stages from Paris to Pan.
This did not occupy him long, and when he had finished he
was at a loss what to do.
He walked up and down the room a few times, yawned, and
then, profiting Ly Henry's invitation, and by the familiarity that
then existed between princes and their gentlemen, placed his
pistols and the lamp on the table, laid his drawn sword by his
side, and secure against surprise, for an attendant was watching
in the outer chamber, soon slept soundly.
It was then that six men, sword and dagger in hand, glided
noiselessly along the corridor that communicated with Henry's
apartments.
One of these men walked in front; besides his sword and
dagger, he had pistols attached to his belt by silver hooks. This
man was Maurevel. Arrived at Henry's door, he stopped.
" Are you quite sure all the sentinels are gone?" asked he.
" There is not one left," replied his lieutenant.
252
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"Good," said Maurevel; "now let us see whether he we
come for is here."
"Poor devil of a king!" said one of the men; "it was
written on high he should not escape."
"And here also," said Maurevel, pointing to the order in his
girdle.
Maurevel placed the key Catherine had given him in the
lock, and leaving two men at the door, passed with the others
into the antechamber.
" Ah," said he, hearing, even from that distance, the loud
breathing of the sleeper ; "it seems we have got him !"
Orthon, thinking it was his master, advanced and found him-
self in the presence of five armed men. At the sight of their
sinister faces, and more particularly at that of Maurevel, he
recoiled, and planted himself before the second door.
" Who are you ?" said Orthon; " and what do you want ?"
" In the king's name," said Maurevel, " where is your
master ?"
" He is absent."
"'Tis false !" replied Maurevel. "Stand back!"
Orthon seized the handle of the door.
"You shall not enter !" cried he.
At a sign from Maurevel, the four men grasped the faithful
page, tore him from his hold, and as he was about to cry out,
Maurevel placed his hand on his mouth. Orthon bit the
assassin furiously, who uttered a suppressed cry, and struck
him on the head with the pommel of his sword. Orthon fell,
crying, " Treason ! treason !"
His voice failed him, and he fainted.
The assassins passed over his body: two stationed them-
selves at the second door, and the three others, led by
Maurevel, entered the bed-chamber.
By the light of the lamp they saw the bed : the curtains were
closed. " Oh," said the lieutenant, " he snores no longer !"
. " Now, then—upon him !" replied Maurevel.
At this voice, a hoarse cry, more like the roar of a lion than
the voice of a human being, was heard, the curtains were
violently drawn back, and a man in a cuirass and steel cap
appeared sitting on the bed, a pistol in each hand, and his
drawn sword on his knees. At this sight, Maurevel's hair stood
on end; he turned deadly pale, and recoiled as if he had seen a
spectre.
MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES. 253
Suddenly, the armed figure rose and advanced cowards
Maurevel, as he retreated, so that it was he who seemed to fly,
and De Mouy who seemed to pursue.
" Ah, scoundrel!" said De Mouy; " you are come to murder
me, as you murdered my father !"
The two guards who were with Maurevel alone heard these
terrible words; but as they were uttered, one of De Mouy's
pistols was levelled at Maurevel's head. The ruffian sank on
his knees at the instant De Mouy pulled the trigger, and one of
the guards, whom he uncovered by this movement, fell with a
bullet in his heart; Maurevel instantly fired in return, but the
ball glanced off De Mouy's cuirass.
Then, measuring the distance and calculating his spring, De
Mouy, with a back stroke of his large sword, cleft the skull of
the second guard, and turning to Maurevel, crossed weapons
with him.
The combat was terrible, but brief: at the fourth pass,
Maurevel felt De Mouy's sword in his throat; he uttered a low
groan, and fell, upsetting the lamp, which was extinguished in
the fall.
Agile and powerful as one of Homer's heroes, De Mouy
sprang boldly forward, favoured by the obscurity, into the ante-
chamber, felled one of the guards to the earth, sent the other
staggering from him, passed like lightning between the two at
the outer door, escaped two pistol-shots fired at him, the balls
of which grazed the corridor, and was then safe, for besides the
sword with which he dealt such fearful blows he had a loaded
pistol.
He hesitated an instant whether he should enter D'Alengon's
apartments, the door of which seemed ajar, or escape from the
Louvre : resolving upon the latter course, he sprang down the
stairs, arrived at the wicket, pronounced the pass-word, adding :
" Go up stairs ! they are killing on the king's account."
And availing himself of the stupefaction produced by the
report of the pistols and his own words, he disappeared in the
Rue du Coq, without having received a scratch.
It was at this moment that Catherine stopped M. de Nancey,
saying:
" Stay here; I will go myself and see what is the matter."
• Then, taking a lamp, and passing her naked feet into slippers,
Catherine advanced, pale as a spectre, along the corridor, fuli
of smoke, towards Henry's apartments.
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS,
All was silent.
She arrived at the door, entered, and found Orthon senseleSS
on the threshold.
" Oh," said she, " here is the servant; we shall soon find the
masterand she approached the second door.
There her foot struck against a corpse ; she turned the lamp
upon it; it was the guard whose skull had been cleft: he was
quite dead. A little further lay the lieutenant, with the death-
rattle in his throat.
Beside the bed was a man who, pale as death, was bleeding
fast from a double wound in his throat, and who, clenching his
hands convulsively, strove to raise himself.
It was Maurevel.
Catherine shuddered ; she saw the bed deserted ; she eagerly
looked around the room, and in vain sought amongst the three
corpses for the one she so earnestly desired to behold.
Maurevel knew Catherine, and stretched out his hand towards
her with a desperate movement.
" Where is he ?" said she. " Have you let him escape ?"
Maurevel strove to speak, but a bloody foam covered his
lips, and he could only feebly shake his head.
" Speak !" cried the queen ; " speak, if it be but one word !"
Maurevel pointed to his wound, and after a desperate effort
to utter something, fainted.
She looked around her : there were none but the dead and
the dying there : blood flowed in every direction, and silence
reigned in the chamber. She spoke again to Maurevel, but in
vain; a paper was in his girdle—it was the order for Henry's
arrest; Catherine seized it, and concealed it beneath her robe.
At this instant she heard a slight noise behind her, and
turning round, she perceived D'Alengon, who had been drawn
thither by the noise.
" You here, Frangois ?" said she.
" Yes, madame. For God's sake, what does this mean ?"
" Retire to your apartments; you will know soon enough."
D'Alengon, however, was not so ignorant of what had passed
as Catherine imagined. Seeing men enter the King of Navarre's
apartments, he guessed what was to happen, and was secretly
rejoiced at having so dangerous an enemy disposed of by a
hand more powerful than his own.
Soon the noise of fire-arms and the steps of a fugitive
attracted his attention, and he saw Red Mantle disappear.
MAN PROPOSES, PUT GOD DISPOSES. 2$
" De Mouy !" cried he; " De Mouy with my brother-in-law,
or can it be La Mole ?"
He began to feel alarmed.
Wishing to assure himself, he ascended to his apartment; no
one was there, but the cherry-coloured mantle was hanging
against the wall. It was, then, De Mouy. Pale as death, and
trembling lest De Mouy had been taken prisoner, and betrayed
the secrets of the conspiracy, he rushed to the wicket, where he
was informed De Mouy had passed, saying that some one was
being killed on the king's account.
" He was mistaken," muttered D'Alen^on ; " it is on the
queen-mother's account."
And returning to the scene of combat, he found Catherine
prowling like a hyaena amongst the dead.
Catherine, in despair at the failure of this ne attempt, called
De Nancey, had the bodies removed, and Maurevel conveyed
to his own house, and forbade them to wake the king.
" Oh," murmured she, as she entered her apartment, her head
sunk on her bosom ; " he has again escaped—the hand of
God protects him. He will reign—he will reign !"
Then, as she opened her door, she assumed a smile.
" Oh, madame, what was the matter ?" demanded every one
except Madame de Sauve, who was too frightened to ask any
questions.
" Oh, nothing," replied the queen; ''only a noise; nothing
more."
" But," cried Madame de Sauve, suddenly, " every step your
•majesty takes leaves a trace of blood on the carpet 1"
CHAPTER XXXV.
the two kings.
Charles IX. walked arm in arm with Henry, followed by his
four gentlemen,, and preceded by two torch-bearers.
" When I quit the Louvre," said the poor king, " I experience
a pleasure like that I feel when I enter a fine forest—I breathe,
I live, I am free !"
Henry smiled.
"Your majesty would be happy in my mountains in Beam,
then ?" was his reply.
" Yes, and I can'understand how desirous you are to return
2 56
MARGUERITE EE VAL01S.
there; but if the desire comes very strong upon you, Harry,"
added Charles, laughing, " be careful, for my mother Cathe-
rine is so very fond of you, that she really cannot do without
you."
The two kings, followed by their escort, had reached the
Hotel de Conde, when they observed two men, wrapped in long
cloaks, come forth from a private door, which one of them
closed carefully.
" Oh, oh !" said the king to Henry, " this deserves our
attention. You, Harry, are sure of your wife" (Charles
smiled as he said this), " but your cousin De Conde is not so
sure of his ; or if he is sure, devil fetch me! but he is very
wrong."
"But how do you know, sire, that it is Madame de Conde
these gentlemen have come to visit ?"
"A presentiment. They have seen us, and try to avoid
notice; and then the peculiar cut of one of their mantles. Par-
dien ! it would be strange !"
" What ?"
" Nothing, only an idea; but let us advance towards them."
And he went towards the two men, who, thus seeing that
they must be accosted, made several steps in a contrary direc-
tion.
" Hola ! messieurs," said the king; " stop !"
" Do you address us ?" said a voice, which made Charles and
his companion start.
"Ah, Harry!" said Charles, "do you recognise that voice,
now ?"
" Sire," replied Henry, " if your brother, the Duke d'Anjou,
were not at Rochelle, I should swear it was he who just spoke."
"Well, then," said Charles, "he is not at Rochelle."
" But who is with him ?"
" A man whose figure can hardly be mistaken. Hola ! I say,"
continued the king, "did you not hear me?"
" Are you the watch, to apprehend us ?" asked the taller of
the two men, thrusting forth his hand from the folds of his
mantle.
"Assume that we are the watch," said the king, "and stand
when you are desired."
Then, whispering Henry, he added, " Now you will see the
volcano spit forth flames."
" There are eight of you," replied the taller of the two men,
THE TWO KINGS.
257
showing not only his arm but his face; " but were you a hun-
dred, I bid you keep your distance."
" Ah, ah ! the Duke de Guise !" said Henry.
" Ah ! our cousin of Lorraine," said the king"; " it is you, is
it ? How fortunate !"
" The king !" exclaimed the duke.
As to the other personage, he wrapped himself up still closer
in his mantle,. and remained motionless, after having first un-
covered his head respectfully.
" Sire," said the Duke de Guise, " I have just been paying a
visit to my sister-in-law, Madame de Conde."
"Yes, and have brought one of your gentlemen with you.
Pray, who is he ?"
" Sire," replied the duke, " your majesty does not know him."
" Then we will make his acquaintance now," said the king;
and going towards him, he desired the two men to approach with
their flambeaux.
" Pardon, my brother," said the Duke d'Anjou, opening his
mantle, and bowing with ill-concealed vexation.
" Ah, ah, Henry ! What, is it you ? But no, it cannot be
possible. I am deceived. My brother of Anjou would never
have gone to see any person without first coming to see me.
He is not ignorant that for princes of the blood there is only
one entrance in Paris, and that is by the gate of the Louvre."
" Pardon me, sire," said the Duke dAnjou. " I entreat your
majesty to forgive this breach of etiquette."
" Of course," replied the king, in a jeering tone ; " and what
were you doing, brother, at the HotePde Cond£ ?"
" Why," said the King of Navarre, with his peculiar air,
"what your majesty alluded to but just now;"and he laughed
loudly.
"And wherefore," asked the Duke de Guise, with hauteur,
for, like the rest of the world, he behaved very rudely to the
poor King of Navarre, "should I not visit my sister-in-law?
Does not the Duke d'Alengon visit his ?"
Henry's cheek turned red.
" What sister-in-law ?" remarked Charles ; " I do not know of
any other he has than the Queen Elizabeth."
"Your pardon, sire; it was his sister I should have said
—Madame Marguerite, whom we saw as we came hither half-
an-hour since, in her litter, accompanied by two sparks, one on
each side."
17
258 MARGUERITE DE PA LOIS.
" Really ?" said Charles; " what do you say to that, Henry?"
"That the Queen of Navarre is free to go where she pleases ;
but I doubt her having quitted the Louvre."
" And I am sure of it," said the Duke de Guise.
"And I also," said the Duke d'Anjou; "and the litter
stopped in the Rue Cloche-Percee."
" Your sister-in-law, then—not this one, but the other," and
he pointed his finger in the direction of the Hotel de Guise,
" must be also of the party, for we left them together, and they
are, as you know, inseparables."
" I do not understand what your majesty implies," replied the
Duke de Guise.
"Now to me," observed the king, "nothing can be more
clear; and that is why there was a spark on each side of the
litter."
" Well," said the duke, " if there be any wrong on the part
of the queen and of my sister-in-law, let us call on the justice of
the king to put an end to it."
" Eh, par Dieu/" said Henry, " let us have done with Mes-
dames de Conde and de Nevers. The king has no uneasiness
about his sister; I have none for my wife."
" No, no," interposed Charles; " I will have the affair cleared
up; but let us manage it ourselves. The litter, you say, cousin,
stopped in the Rue Cloche-Percee ?"
"Yes, sire."
"You know the spot ?"
"Yes, sire."
" Well, then, let us go thither; and if it be necessary to burn
down the house to know who is in it, why, we will do so."
It was with this feeling, very discouraging for those concerned,
that the four principal princes of the Christian world proceeded
towards the Rue Saint Antoine.
When they reached the Rue Cloche-Percee, Charles, who
wished to confine the thing to his family, dismissed his attend-
ants, desiring them to be near the Bastille at six o'clock in the
morning, with two horses.
On reaching the house, they knocked, and tried to gain admit-
tance, which the German porter decidedly and doggedly refused.
Seeing that they could not succeed so, the Duke de Guise, pre-
tending to go away, went to the corner of the Rue Saint
Antoine, and there picked up one of those stones such as^Ajax,
Telamon, and Diomede upheaved three thousand years before,
THE TWO KINGS.
259
and dashed it with violence against the door, which flew open
with the concussion, knocking down the German, who fell
heavily, and with a loud cry, that aroused the garrison, which
else ran a great risk of being surprised.
At this noise, La Mole, Coconnas, Marguerite, and Henriette
were aroused. They blew out all the lights instantly, and opening
the windows, went out into the balcony, when, seeing four men
in the darkness, they began to shower down upon them all the
projectiles within reach, and make a noise by striking the stone
walls with the flat of their swords. Charles, the most eager of
the assailants, received a silver ewer on his shoulder, the Duke
d'Anjou a basin containing a jelly of oranges and cinnamon, and
the Duke de Guise a haunch of venison.
Henry received nothing; he was quietly speaking to the porter,
whom M. de Guise had tied to the door, and who replied by his
eternal,
" Ich verstehe nicht."
The women ably backed the besieged army, and handed pro-
jectiles to them, which fell like hail.
" By the devil's death !" cried Charles, as he received on
his head a stool which knocked his hat over his eyes and on
to his nose, " if they do not open this moment, I'll hang them
all."
" My brother !" said Marguerite to La Mole, in a low voice.
" The king !" said he to Henriette.
" The king ! the king !" said she to Coconnas, who was draw-
ing a large chest to the window, intending it especially for the
Duke de Guise, whom, without knowing him, he had picked out
as his peculiar antagonist; " the king, I tell you !"
Coconnas let go the chest with an air of amazement.
" The king ?" said he.
"Yes, the king !"
"Then sound a retreat."
"Well, be it so. Marguerite and La Mole are off already."
" Which way ?"
" Come this way, I tell you !" and taking him by the hand,
Henriette led Coconnas by the secret door which led to the ad-
joining house, and having closed it after them, they all four fled
by the way that led to the Rue Tizon.
t " Ah, ah !" said Charles, " I think the garrison surrenders.
Cousin," he continued, " take up the stone again, and serve the
inner door as you have done the outer."
17—2
26o
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
The duke burst the other door in with his foot.
"The torches ! the torches !" said the^king, and the lackeys
having relighted them, came forward, and the king taking one,
handed the other to the Duke d'Anjou.
The Duke de Guise went first, sword in hand; Henry brought
up the rear.
They reached the first story, and in the dining-room found
the relics of supper, with candelabra upset, furniture thrown
over, and all that was not of metal destroyed.
They went into the saloon, but there was no better clue to
the late truants there than in the other room.
" There must be another way of egress," observed the king.
" Most probably," replied D'Anjou.
They searched on all sides, but found no door.
" Where is the porter ?" inquired the king.
" I fastened him to the door," replied the Duke de Guise.
Henry looked out of the window, and observed :
" He is there no longer."
" Devil's death !" said the king, " we shall learn nothing
now."
"And really," added Henry, "you see plainly, sire, that no-
thing proves that my wife and the Duke de Guise's sister-in-
law have been in this house; and thus the best thing we can
do "
" Is," said Charles, " for me to foment my bruise, D'Anjou to
wipe away the marks of the orange-jam, and Guise to rub the
grease from off his ruff."
And then they all went away, without so much as closing the
door after them.
When they reached the Rue Saint Antoine, the king said to
M. d'Anjou and the Duke de Guise:
" Which way are you going, gentlemen ?"
" Sire, we are going to Nantouillet's, who expects my cousin
of Lorraine and myself to supper. Will your majesty deign to
accompany us ?"
"No, I thank you; our way lies in an opposite direction.
Will you have one of my torch-bearers ?"
" No, I thank you, sire," was D'Anjou's reply.
"Good! He is afraid I should watch him," whispered
Charles in Henry's ear. Then, taking him by the arm, he
said:
" Come, Harry, I will find you a supper to-night."
MARIE TOUCHET.
" Then we are not going back to the Louvre ?" was Henry's
response.
" No, I tell you, you threefold thickhead ! Come with me
when I tell you—come, come !"
And he conducted Henry by the Rue Geoffroy-Lasnier.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
marie touchet.
They reached the Rue de la Mortellerie, and stopped before a
small lone house in the middle of a garden, inclosed by high
walls. Charles took a key from his pocket, and opened the
door ; and then desiring Henry and the torch-bearer to enter,
he closed the door after him. One small window only was
lighted, to which Charles, with a smile, pointed Henry's atten-
tion, saying :
" Harry, I Told you, that when I left the Louvre I quitted
hell, and when I come here I enter paradise."
" And who is the angel that guards the entrance to your
Eden, sire ?'
"You will see," replied Charles IX. ; and making a sign to
Henry to follow him without noise, he pushed open a first door,
then a second, and paused on the threshold.
" Look !" he said.
Henry did so, and remained with his eyes fixed on as charming
a picture as he ever saw. It was a female of eighteen or nine-
teen years of age, reposing at the foot of a bed, on which was
a sleeping infant, whose two feet she held in her hands, pressing
them to her lips, whilst her long chestnut hair fell down over
them like waves of gold.
It was a picture of Albano's representing the Virgin and the
infant Jesus.
" Oh, sire," said the King of Navarre, " who is this charming
creature ?"
" The angel of my paradise, Harry; the only being who loves
me for myself."
Henry smiled.
"Yes," said Charles, "for myself; for she loved me before
she knew I was the king."
" Well, and since "
262
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Well, and since," said Charles, with a sigh, which proved
that this glittering royalty * was sometimes a burthen to him;
"since she knew it, she still loves me. Watch !"
The king approached her gently, and on the lovely cheek of
the young female impressed a kiss as light as that of the bee on
a lily, yet it awoke her.
" Charles !" she murmured, opening her eyes.
" You see," said the king, " she calls me Charles : the queen
says sire."
" Oh," exclaimed the young girl, "you are not alone !"
" No, dearest Marie, I have brought you another king, happier
than myself, for he has no crown : more unhappy than me, for he
has no Marie Touchet."
" Sire, it is, then, the King of Navarre ?"
" It is, love."
Henry went towards her, and Charles took his right hand.
" Look at this hand, Marie," said he : " it is the hand of a
good brother and a loyal friend; and but for this hand "
"Well, sire!"
" But for this hand, this day, Marie, our boy had been father-
less."
Marie uttered a cry, seized Henry's hand, and kissed it.
The king went to the bed where the child was still asleep.
" Eh !" said he, " if this stout boy slept in the Louvre, instead
of sleeping in this small house, he would change the aspect of
things at present, and perhaps for the future."*
" Sire," said Marie, " without offence to your majesty, I prefer
his sleeping here, he sleeps better."
" You are right, Marie," said Charles IX. "Letus sup now."
The two men passed into the dining-room, whilst the anxious
and careful mother covered the little Charles, who slept soundly,
with a warm wrapper, and then joined the two kings, between
whom she seated herself, and helped both.
" Is it not well, Harry," asked Charles, " to have a place in
the world in which we can eat and drink without the necessity
of any one tasting your viands before you eat them yourself?"
" I believe, sire," was Henry's rejoinder, " that I can appre-
ciate that better than any one."
* This natural child was afterwards the famous Duke d'Angouleme, who
died in 1650 ; and had he been legitimate, would have taken precedence of
Henry III., Henry IV., Louis XIII., Louis XIV., etc., and altered the
whole line of the royal succession of France.
MARIE TOUCIIET.
263
" Marie," said the king, " I present to you one of the most
intelligent and witty men I know; it is much to say, even at
court, and, perhaps, I have understood him better than any
one; for I speak of his mind, as well as of his heart."
" Sire," said Henry, " I hope that in exaggerating the one
you have no doubt of the other."
" I do not exaggerate anything, Harry," replied the king. " He
is, for one thing, a capital master of anagrams. Bid him make
one on your name, and I will answer for it he will."
" Oh, what can you find in the name of a poor girl like me ?
What pleasing idea could such a name as Marie Touchet pro-
duce ?"
" Sire," said Henry, " it is too easy; there is no merit in find-
ing such an one."
"What! done already?" said Charles. "You see "
Henry took his tablets from the pocket of his doublet, tore
out a page of the paper, and beneath the name " Marie Touchet,"
he wrote " Je charme tout" (" I charm all"), and then handed
the leaf to the young girl.
" Really," she exclaimed, " it is impossible !"
" What has he found ?" inquired Charles.
"Sire, I dare not repeat it."
" Sire," said Henry, " in the name of Marie Touchet there is
letter for letter, only changing the I into J, which is customary,
the words, ' Je charme tout.' "
" So it does," cried Charles, " exactly—beautifully ! This
shall be your device, Marie, and never was device better
merited. Thanks, Harry ! Marie, I will give it to you set in
diamonds."
The supper finished "as it struck two o'clock by Notre-Dame.
"Now, Marie," said Charles, "in recompense for the com-
pliment, give him an arm-chair, in which he may sleep till day-
break—a long way off from us though, for he snores fearfully.
If, Harry, you wake before me, rouse me, for we must be at the
Bastille by six o'clock. Good-night—make yourself as comfort-
able as you can. But," added the king, placing his hand on
Henry's shoulder, " on your life, Harry, on your life, do not
leave this house without me."
Henry had suspected too much, to feel any desire of despis-
ing this caution.
Charles IX. went to his chamber, and Henry, the hardy
mountaineer, soon made himself quite comfortable in his arm-
264
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
chair, and speedily justified the precaution his brother-in-law
had taken in keeping him at a distance. In the morning, Charles
aroused him, and as he was dressed, his toilette did not occupy
him very long.
They both passed through the bedchamber, where the young
girl was sleeping in her bed, and the baby in its cradle. They
both were smiling as they slept. Charles looked at them very
tenderly, and turning to the King of Navarre, said to him :
" Harry, if you should ever learn what service I have this
night rendered you, and any misfortune should happen to me,
remember this child which rests here in its cradle." Then, kiss-
ing them both, he said, " Adieu, my angels !" and left the apart-
ment. Henry followed, buried deeply in thought.
Two horses, held by his gentlemen, awaited them at the Bas-
tille; Charles made a sign to Henry to mount, and going by
the garden of the Arbalkte, they went towards the exterior
Boulevards. When they reached the Marais, where they were
sheltered by the palisades, Charles directed Henry's attention,
through the thick haze of the morning, to some men wrapped
in long mantles and wearing fur caps, who were on horseback
beside a wagon heavily laden.
"Ah, ah !" said Charles, smiling, "I thought so."
"Eh, sire," observed Henry, "is not one of them the Duke
d'Anjou !;'
" Himself," said Charles. " Keep back, Harry ! don't let
them see us."
" And who are the other men, and what is in the wagon ?"
" The men are the Polish ambassadors, and in the wagon is
a crown; and now," he added, putting his horse to a gallop,
"come, Harry, for I have seen all I wished to discover."
CHAPTER XXXVII.
the return to the louvre.
When Catherine believed all was arranged in the King of Na-
varre's chamber, that the dead soldiers were removed, Maurevel
conveyed away, and the carpets washed, she dismissed her
maids, for it was nearly midnight, and attempted to go to sleep;
but the shock had been too severe, the deception too great.
The detested Henry eternally escaped her plots, well-laid and
7HE RETURN TO THE LOUVRE.
265
deadly as they were ; he seemed protected by some invisible
power, which Catherine persisted in calling chance, although in
the depths of her heart a voice told her that the real name of
this power was destiny. Sleep came not to her eyes, and, her
brain filled with fresh projects, she rose at break of day, dressed
herself, and went towards Charles's apartments, where she found
his nurse in the antechamber.
"Nurse, I desire to see my son."
" Madame, I will not open the door, except on the formal
order of your majesty."
" Open, nurse, I command you."
The nurse at this voice, more respected and more dreaded
than that of Charles himself, presented the key to Catherine;
but Catherine had no need of it, drawing from her pocket a key
of her own, which opened her son's door in an instant.
The chamber was unoccupied; Charles's couch was undis-
turbed; and his two greyhounds, lying down on a bearskin,
rose, and coming to Catherine, licked her hands.
"Ah !" said the queen, " he has gone out; I will await him."
And she seated herself gloomily in the recess of a window
which looked into the principal court of the Louvre. For two
hours she remained there, pale and immovable as a marble
statue, when at length she saw a troop of cavaliers enter the gate,
at the head of whom she beheld Charles and Henry of Navarre.
Then she comprehended all. Charles, instead of debating
with her as to the arrest of his brother-in-law, had carried him
off, and thus saved him.
"Blind, blind, blind !" she murmured; and she waited where
she was.
A moment afterwards she heard footsteps without, and
Charles, lifting the tapestry, found himself in the presence of his
mother.
Behind him, and looking over his shoulder, was the pale and
uneasy countenance of the Bearnais.
"Ah ! you here, madame ?" said Charles IX., frowning.
" Yes, my son ; I wish to speak with you."
" To me ?"
" You, and alone."
" Well, well," said Charles, turning towards his brother-in-law,
" since it cannot be avoided, the sooner the better."
" I leave you, sire," said Henry.
" Yes, yes, do," replied Charles ; " and since you are a Catho-
266
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
lie, Harry, go and hear mass on my behalf; as for me, I shall
stay and hear the sermon."
Henry bowed, and left the apartment.
Charles IX. anticipating the questions which his mother
would address to him, said, trying to turn the affair into a jest,
" Well, madame, fiardieu ! you are going to scold me, are you
not? I made your little plot fail most signally. Well,mort
d'un diable! I really could not allow to be arrested and con-
veyed to the Bastille the man who had just saved my life; so
forgive me, and confess that the joke was a capital one."
"Sire," replied Catherine, " your majesty is mistaken; it was
not a joke."
"Yes, yes, and so you will say, or the devil take me !"
" Sire, you have by your own fault caused the failure of a plan
which would have led us to a grand discovery."
"Come," said the king, "come, let us know all about it.
What have you to complain of against Harry ?"
" Why, that he is in a conspiracy."
"Yes, of course; that is your everlasting accusation."
"Listen," said Catherine, "listen, and you will find a means o f
proving whether or no I am wrong."
"Well, how, mother?"
" Inquire from Henry who was in his chamber last night; and
if he tells you, I am ready to confess that I was wrong."
" But suppose it was a woman, we cannot suppose "
"A woman ?" " Yes, a woman."
" A woman who killed two of your guards, and has wounded,
perhaps mortally, M. de Maurevel !"
" Ah, ah !" said the king, " this grows serious. There has
been blood spilt, then ?"
" Three men were levelled with the earth."
" And he who left them in this condition ?"
" Escaped, safe and sound."
"By Gog and Magog!" cried Charles, "he was a gallant
fellow, and you are right, mother. I should like to know him."
"Well, I tell you beforehand you will not learn who it is, at
.least from Henry."
" But from you, mother. This man did not flee without
leaving some traces,—without some portion of his dress being
remarked."
" Nothing was observed but the elegant cherry-coloured
mantle which he wore."
HE RETLRN TO THE LOUVRE.
267
"Ah, ah ! a cherry-coloured mantle !" said Charles ; " I know
but one at court so remarkable."
" Precisely," said Catherine.
" Well!" replied Charles.
"Well," answered Catherine, "await me here, my son, whilst
I go to see if my orders have been executed."
Catherine went out, leaving Charles alone, and he paced up
and down thoughtfully, whistling a hunting air, with one hand in
his doublet, and letting the other hang down for his dogs to lick
every time he paused.
As to Henry, he had left his brother-in-law's apartments very
uneasy, and instead of going along the usual corridor, he had
ascended the small private staircase we have before referred to,
and which led to the second story, but scarcely had he gone up
four steps than he saw a shadow : he stopped, and put his hand
to his dagger, but immediately recognised a female, and a charm-
ing voice familiar to his ear said :
" Heaven be praised, sire ! you are safe and sound. I was
in great alarm about you, but Heaven has heard my prayer."
"What, then, has happened?" inquired Henry.
" You will know when you reach your apartments. Do not
be uneasy about Orthon; I have taken care of him."
And the young lady descended the stairs rapidly, passing
Henry as if she had met him accidentally.
" This is very strange," said Henry to himself; " what can
have happened ?—what has occurred to Orthon ?"
The question, unfortunately, could not reach Madame de
Sauve,' for Madame de Sauve was already out of hearing.
At the top of the staircase Henry saw another shadow; it was
that of a man.
" Hush !" said this man.
"Ah, ah ! is that you, Frangois?"
" Do not mention my name."
" What has happened ?"
" Go into your rooms, and you will see; then go quietly into
the corridor, look carefully about that no one sees you, and
come to me—my door will be ajar."
And he disappeared, in his turn, down the staircase, like a
ghost in a theatre down a trap.
" Ventre-saint-gris /" muttered the Bearnais, " the mystery
grows thicker, but as the solution is to be found in my apart-
ment, let us go thither."
268
MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
He reached the door, and listened; there was not a sound.
Charlotte had told him to go there, and it was thus evident that
there was nothing to fear. He entered, and cast a glance
around the antechamber, which was solitary, but nothing indi-
cated that anything had taken place.
" Orthon is not here," he remarked, and went to the inner
chamber.
Here all was explained. In spite of the water, which had
been copiously used, large red spots stained the floor; a piece of
furniture was broken, the hangings of the bed were hacked with
sword-cuts, a Venetian mirror was broken by the blow of a
bullet, and a blood-stained hand had leaned against the wall,
and left against it a terrible imprint, announcing that this cham-
ber had been the mute witness of a mortal struggle. Henry
started back, and gazed with haggard eye at all these different
details, and passing his hand over his brow, moist with perspira-
tion, he murmured:
"Ah ! now I understand the service which the king has done
me; they came to assassinate me, and—ah !—De Mouy ! what
have they done with De Mouy?—Wretches! they have mur-
dered him !"
And anxious to learn the particulars, he hastened to the Duke
d'Alen^on, who was waiting for him, and taking Henry's hand,
and placing his finger on his lips, led him to a small closet in
the tower, completely isolated, and consequently out of the
reach of all eyes and ears.
" Oh, my brother," he said, " what a horrible night!"
" What has happened ?" asked Henry.
"They sought to arrest you."
"Me?" "Yes, you."
" And wherefore ?"
" I know not—where were you ?"
" The king took me last night away with him into the city."
" Then he was aware of it," said D'Alengon. " But since
you were not here, who was in your rooms ?"
" Was any one there ?" inquired Henry, as if ignorant of the
fact.
" Yes, a man. When I heard the noise, I ran to bring you
succour, but it was too late."
" Was the man arrested ?" inquired Henry, anxiously.
"No; he escaped, after having dangerously wounded Mau-
revel and killed two guards."
THE RETURN TO THE LOUVRE.
269
" Ah, brave De Mouy !" cried Henry.
" Was it, then, De Mouy ?" said D'Alengon, quickly,
Henry saw he had committed a fault.
"At least, I presume so," he replied, "for I had given him
an appointment to arrange with him as to your flight, and to
tell him that I had ceded to you all my rights to the throne of
Navarre."
" Then if De Mouy is known," said D'Alengon, turning pale,
" we are lost."
"Yes; for Maurevel will tell."
" Maurevel has been wounded in the throat, and I have
learned from the surgeon that he will not speak a word for eight
days."
" Eight days ! that is a longer time than De Mouy requires
to reach a place of safety."
" But it may be some other, and not M. de Mouy."
" Do you think so ?" asked Henry.
"Yes ; this person disappeared very swiftly, and nothing was
seen but a cherry-coloured cloak."
" Why, really," remarked Henry, " a cherry-coloured cloak is
a thing for a fop, not for a soldier; no one would suspect De
Mouy of appearing in a cherry-coloured cloak."
"No ; and if any one were suspected," said D'Alen5on, "it
would rather be "
He paused.
" M. de la Mole," said Henry.
" Certainly; since I, who saw him myself, doubted for a
moment."
" You doubted ? Well, then, it might be M. de la Mole."
" Does he know nothing ?" inquired D'Alengon.
" Nothing important."
" Brother," said the duke, " now I really believe it was he."
" Diable /" observed Henry, " if it be he, it will greatly annoy
the queen, who takes an interest in him."
" An interest, say you ?" said D'Alengon, amazed.
" Unquestionably. Do you not remember, Frangois, that it
was your sister who recommended him to you ?"
" It was, indeed," said the duke; " and if I were sure you
would support me, I myself would almost accuse him."
" If you accuse him," replied Henry, " understand, brother,
I shall not gainsay you."
"But the queen?" said D'Alengon.
ifo
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" Ah, yes, the queen !"
" We must know what she will do."
" I will undertake that commission."
" Plague take it, brother! she will be wrong to give us the
lie, for only see what a glorious reputation the young fellow will
have, and which will have cost him nothing; though, to be sure,
he may be called on to pay capital and interest at once."
"Devil take it! what would you have?" inquired Henry.
" In this nether -world, we have nothing for nothing;" and,
saluting D'Alen<jon, he went rapidly down the staircase to Mar-
guerite's apartments.
The Queen of Navarre was hardly more at ease than her
husband. The expedition of the night, directed against herself
and Madame de Nevers, by the king, the Duke d'Anjou, the
Duke de Guise, and Henry, whom she had recognised, had
greatly disturbed her. She had gone to bed, but she could not
sleep, and trembled at every sound. At this moment, Henry
knocked at her door, and Gillonne admitted him at her mis-
tress's order.
Henry paused at the door. Nothing in him announced the
injured husband ; his habitual smile was on his well-defined lips,
and not a muscle of his countenance betrayed the severe emo-
tions he had undergone. He looked at Marguerite, to ascertain
if she would allow him to remain alone with her, and Marguerite
motioned Gillonne to retire.
"Madame," said Henry, "I know how deeply you are attached
to your friends, and I fear I bring you unwelcome tidings."
" What are they, sir ?" asked Marguerite.
" One of our best-beloved servitors is greatly compromised
at this moment."
" Who ?"
" Our dear Comte de la Mole."
" And how ?"
" In consequence of the adventure of last night."
Marguerite, in spite of her self-command, could not refrain
from blushing.
" What adventure ?" she said.
" What !" said Henry; " did you not hear all the noise that
was made at the Louvre last night ?"
" No, sir."
" Then I congratulate you, madame," said Henry, with much
gravity, "for you must have slept very soundly."
THE RETURN TO THE LOU ERE.
271
" Well, what did pass ?"
"Why, our good mother had ordered M. de Maurevel and
six of her guards to arrest me."
"You, sir—you?"
1 " Yes, me."
" And wherefore ?"
" Ah ! who can tell the c wherefores ' of such a mind as your
mother's ? I suspect them, but do not know them."
" And you were not in your chamber?"
"No, by accident; you have guessed rightly, madame.
Last evening, the king invited me to accompany him. But if I
was not in my apartments, some other person was."
" And who was that other person ?"
" It appears that it was the Comte de la Mole."
" The Comte de la Mole !" said Marguerite, amazed.
" Tudieu / only imagine what a stout fellow the Prove^al
was," continued Henry. " Why, he wounded Maurevel and
killed two of the guards."
" Wounded M. de Maurevel and killed two of the guards !
Impossible !"
" What, do you doubt his courage, madame ?"
"No; but I say that M. de la Mole could not be in your
apartments."
" Why not ?"
"Because—because," answered Marguerite, greatly embar-
rassed, " because he was elsewhere."
"Ah, if he can prove an alibi," observed Henry, "that is
another thing. He will say where he was, and there's an end."
" Where he was ?" said Marguerite, quickly.
"Assuredly. But, unfortunately, as they have proofs "
"Proofs! What?"
" Why, the man who made this desperate defence wore a red
cloak."
" But is M. de la Mole the only man who wears a red cloak ?
I know another person also."
" So do I; but then see what will happen. If it was not
M. de la Mole, it was some other man in a red cloak like him,
and you know who that man is."
" Heavens !"
" This is the breaker a-head of us. You have seen him, as
I have, madame; and your emotion proves it. Let us, then,
talk this matter over like two persons who speak of a thing the
272
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
most coveted in the world—a throne; of a thing most precious
—life. De Mouy arrested, we are lost!"
"Yes; I understand that."
" Whilst M. de la Mole can compromise nobody, unless he
were capable of inventing some such tale as that he was with a
party of ladies—how can I tell ?"
"Sir," said Marguerite, "if you only fear that, be perfectly
easy; he will not so say."
" What!" said Henry, " will he be silent, even if silence cost
him his life ?" ^
" He will, sir."
"You are sure?"
" I will answer for him."
" Then all is for the best," said Henry, rising.
"Then you go, sir "
"To endeavour to get us out of the danger into which this
devil of a man in the red cloak has plunged us."
" Ah, mon Dieu / 111011 Dieupoor young man !" exclaimed
Marguerite, in a paroxysm of grief, and wringing her hands.
"Really," said Henry, as he retired, "this dear M. de la
Mole is a very faithful and gentlemanly servitor !"
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
interrogatories.
Charles entered smiling and jesting into his apartments, but
after ten minutes' conversation with his mother, it was she who
had recovered her good humour, and he who was serious and
thoughtful.
" M. de la Mole," said Charles, " M. de la Mole—we must
summon Henry and D'Alen9on : Henry, because this young
man is a Huguenot—D'Alengon, because he is in his service."
" Summon them if you will, my son, you will learn nothing.
I fear there exists a better understanding between Henry and
Francois than you imagine."
Charles walked up and down rapidly, biting his lips and
pressing his hand to his heart, as if to restrain his wrath.
"No, no," said he, "I will not wait ! Let some one sum-
mon the Duke d'Alen^on, then Henry. I will interrogate them
separately. As for you, you can stay, if you please."
JNTERROGA TORIES.
273
The Duke d'Alengon entered. His conversation with Henry
had ^prepared him for this interview j he was therefore perfectly
collected.
His answers were most precise. Warned by his mother not
to quit his apartments, he was ignorant of the events of the
night: only, as those apartments were in the same corridor as
the King of Navarre's, he had heard footsteps, then the sound
of a door opening, and the report of fire-arms ; he had ventured
to open his door slightly, and had seen a man in a red mantle
escape. Charles and the queen looked at each other.
" In a red mantle ?" said the king. " Yes."
" And did not this mantle give you any suspicions as to who
the person was ?"
D'Alengon collected all his presence of mind, in order to lie
more naturally.
" I confess," said he, " I thought I recognised the mantle of
one of my gentlemen."
" Which of them ?"
" M. de la Mole." ^
" Why was he not in attendance on you ?"
" I had given him leave of absence."
" That will do : go."
The duke advanced towards the door.
"No—this way," said Charles, pointing to the door which
led to his nurse's apartments.
Charles did not wish Frangois and Henry should see each
other. He was ignorant that they had already met for a few
moments, and that this short time had sufficed to arrange their
plans.
Behind D'Alengon, and at a sign from Charles, came Henry.
" Sire," said he, " you have done well to send for me, for I
was coming to seek you, to demand justice."
Charles frowned.
" Yes, justice !" said Henry. " I commence by thanking
your majesty for having taken me with you last night, for I now
know that by so doing you saved my life; but what have I
done to deserve being assassinated ?"
" It was not an assassination," said Catherine; " it was an
arrest."
"Well!" returned Henry, "what crime have I committed?
I am as guilty to-day as yesterday. What is my crime, I ask
again, sire?"
274
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
Charles looked at his mother, somewhat embarrassed for an
answer.
" My son," said Catherine, " you hold communication with
suspected persons."
" And these suspected persons compromise me—is it not so,
madame ?"
"Yes, Henry."
" Name them, then—name them—confront me with them !"
" Why, ay," said Charles, " Harry has a right to an expla-
nation."
" And I demand one," said Henry, who saw his advantage,
and resolved to use it: "I demand one from my brother Charles,
from my stepmother Catherine. Since my marriage, have I
not been a good husband?—ask Marguerite. A good Catholic ?
—ask my confesssor. A good brother ?—ask all .those who
were at the hunt yesterday."
" It is true, Harry," replied the king; " but they say you
conspire."
" Against whom ?" " Against me."
" Sire, were that true, I needed only to have let events take
their course when the boar was on you."
" Eh, mort diable! he is right, mother."
" But who was last night in your apartments ?"
" Madame," returned Henry, " I can scarcely answer for
myself, much less for others. I left my apartments at a quarter
past seven, and the king took me with him at nine; and I did
not quit his majesty all the night: I could not be with him and
in the Louvre at the same time."
" But," said Catherine, " it is not the less true that some one
of your followers killed two of the king's guards, and wounded
M. de Maurevel."
" One of my followers !" cried Henry. "Name him, then."
" Every one accuses M. de la Mole."
" M. de la Mole is not in my service, but in that of the Duke
d'Alen§on, to whom Marguerite recommended him."
" But," said Charles, " was it M. de la Mole who was there ?"
" How should I know, sire ? I do not say yes or no. M.
de la Mole is a very gallant gentleman, devoted to the Queen
of Navarre, and who often brings me messages from Marguerite,
to whom he is very grateful for having recommended him to
the Duke d'Alengon, or from the duke himself. I know not if
it were he or not."
INTERROGA TORIES.
27$
" It was he," said Catherine; " he was recognised by his red
mantle.
, " Ah, he has a red mantle ?" asked Henry. " Yes."
" And the man who so maltreated your guards and M. de
Maurevel had a red mantle ?"
" Exactly so," replied Charles.
" I have nothing to say to that," answered the B^arnais ; " but
it seems to me that, instead of sending for me, it was M. de la
Mole who should have been sent for : but there is one thing I
would remark."
"What is that?"
" That if I had resisted the king's order I should be culpable,
and merit severe punishment; but it was not me, it was a
stranger in no way concerned, whom they sought to arrest; he
defended himself, and he had a right to do so.".
\ " Yet " murmured Catherine.
" Madame," demanded Henry, " was the order to arrest
me ?" " Yes ; and the king had signed it."
" But was it in the order to arrest any one found in my
place ?" " No."
" Well, then," continued Henry, " unless it can be proved I
am plotting against the king, and that the man in my chamber
is plotting with me, b-e is innocent. Sire," continued he, turn-
ing to Charles IX., " I do not quit the Louvre, or I am ready
at your majesty's orders to retire to any state prison you may
think fit to indicate, but for the mean time I have a right to
declare myself the loyal subject and brother of your majesty."
And saluting them with an air of dignity Charles had never
before seen in him, Henry withdrew.
" Bravo, Harry !" cried Charles.
" Bravo ! because he has beaten us ?"
" And why not ? When he hits me in fencing, don't I cry
bravo ! Mother, you are wrong to despise this young man."
" My son ! I do not hate—I fear him."
" Well, you're wrong ; for if he were really plotting against
me, he only need have let the boar alone yesterday."
" Yes," said Catherine, " and so have made D'Anjou, his
personal enemy, King of France."
"Never mind what motive made him save my life ; suffice it,
he did save it. Mort de tous les diables / I will not have
him meddled with; as for M. de. la Mole, I will speak to
D'Alencon about him."
18—2
276
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
Catherine took her leave. On re-entering her chamber, she
found Marguerite waiting for her.
" Ah, ah !" said she, " it is you, my daughter; I sent for you
last night."
"This morning, madam e, I come to tell your majesty you are
about to commit a great injustice; you are going to arrest M.
de la Mole." " It is probable."
"Accused of having killed two of the king's guards, and
wounded M. de Maurevel last night, in the King of Navarre's
chamber."
" That is what he is charged with."
" He is wrongfully accused; M. de la Mole is not guilty."
"Not guilty!" cried Catherine, joyfully; for she hoped to
learn something from what Marguerite was about to tell her. -
"No," returned Marguerite, "he cannot be guilty, for he
was not there."
" Where was he, then ?" " With me."
"With you?" "Yes."
Catherine, instead of darting a look of indignation at her
daughter, quietly folded her hands in her lap.
" If not M. de la Mole, who was there, then ?" said she.
" I know not," returned Marguerite, hesitatingly.
" Come, do not tell me the truth by halves."
"I tell you, madame, I do not know," said Marguerite, turn-
ing pale in spite of herself.
" Well, well," said the queen-mother, " we shall find out. Go,
my child ; your mother watches over your honour."
Marguerite retired.
" Ah !" murmured Catherine, " Henry and Marguerite have
an understanding together; provided she is silent, he is blind.
Ah, my children, you think yourselves strong in your union,
but I will crush you. Besides, all must be known, the day
when Maurevel can write or pronounce six letters."
And hereupon Catherine returned to the royal apartments,
where she found Charles in conference with D'Alengon.
" You here, ma mere F said Charles.
" Why not say again, for that was in your thoughts ?"
" I keep my thoughts to myself," returned the king, with that
harsh tone he sometimes adopted even to Catherine. "What
have you to say ?"
" That you were right, Charles ; and you, D'Alengon, wrong."
" How ?" cried both together.
1NTERR0GA TORIES.
277
" It was not La Mole who was in the King of Navarre's apart-
ments." "Who then?" asked Charles.
"We shall know when Maurevel is recovered, but let us speak
of La Mole."
" What do you want with him, since he was not with the King
of Navarre ?"
"No, but he was with the queen."
" The Queen!" cried Charles, bursting into a loud laugh.
" No, no, Guise told us he met her litter."
" Just so," said Catherine; " she has a house in Paris."
" Rue Cloche-Percee?" "Yes, I believe so."
" Ah !" cried the king, suddenly, "it must have been he who
threw a dish on my head last night—the scoundrel!"
" Doubtless," replied Catherine ; " and we must take heed to
the matter at once, for the least indiscretion of this gentleman
might occasion a terrible noise. It needs but a moment of
intoxication "
" Or of vanity," said Francis.
" Doubtless," returned Charles : " but we cannot carry the
cause before the judges, until Henry consents."
" My son," said Catherine, significantly, " a crime has been
committed, and there may be scandal. Were you simple gentle-
men, I should need say nothing to you, for you are both brave ;
but you are princes, and cannot cross swords with an inferior
in rank; think, then, how to avenge yourselves as princes."
" Mort de tous les diables /" said Charles; " I will think of it."
" I leave you," said Catherine, " but I leave you this to repre-
sent me."
As she spoke, she untied the silken cord that passed thrice
round her waist, and of which the two tassels fell to her knees,
and cast it at the feet of the two princes.
"Ah," said Charles, "I understand."
" This cord " said D'Alen£on.
" Is punishment and silence," replied Catherine; " but, first,
it will be as well to mention the thing to Henry."
And she retired.
" Pardieu /" replied D'Alengon, " a good suggestion. I will
send for Henry."
" No," said Charles, " I will see him myself; do you inform
D'Anjou and Guise."
And quitting his apartments, he ascended the private stair-
case which led to Henry's chamber.
278
MARGUERITE DE PALOIS.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
projects of vengeance.
Henry had profited by the moment's respite from the ex-
animation he had undergone, to fly to Madame de Sauve's.
There he found Orthon quite recovered, but the latter could
tell him nothing, except that some armed men had entered the
apartment, and that one of them had struck him with the hilt of
his sword.
As for Orthon, no one had taken any heed to him : Catherine
had seen him senseless, and believed he was dead. On coming
to himself, in the interval between her departure and the ar-
rival of the captain of the guard, he had taken refuge with
Madame de Sauve.
Henry besought Charlotte to let the young man remain
with her until he heard from De Mouy, who would certainly
write to him. He would then despatch Orthon to him, and
instead of one, have two men, on whom to rely in any emer-
gency. This plan formed, he had returned to his apartment,
and was musing deeply, when the door opened, and Charles
entered.
" Your majesty !" cried Henry.
" I myself. Harry, you are an excellent fellow, and I love you
more and more."
"Sire," said Henry, "you overwhelm me."
" You have but one fault."
" If your majesty will explain yourself, I will seek to correct
it," said Henry, who saw by the king's face he was in an excellent
humour.
" It is, that having good eyes you do not use them."
" Bah !" said Henry; " am I, then, near sighted without know-
ing it ?" "Worse than that, you are blind."
" If that be so, will your majesty aid me to recover my
sight ?" " When Guise told you last night he saw your wife
pass with a gallant, you would not believe it."
" Sire, how could I believe your majesty's sister would commit
such an indiscretion ?"
" When he told you your wife had gone to the Rue Cloche-
Perc£e, you would not believe that."
" I could not suppose' a princess of the royal blood would
thus publicly risk her reputation."
PROJECTS OF VENGEANCE.
279
" When we besieged the house, and I received a silver dish
on my shoulder, D'Anjou a plate of orange jam on his head, and
Guise a haunch of venison in his face, did you not see two men
and'f wo women ?"
"I saw nothing." "Eh, corbceaf ! I did, then."
"Ah, if your majesty saw anything, that makes it another
thing."
" That is, I saw two men and two women3 one of the women,
I am sure, was Margot, and one of the men La Mole."
" But," said Henry, " if M. de la Mole was in the Rue Cloche-
Percee, he could not be here."
" No, no, he was not here 3 but never mind that, we shall know
who was here when that blockhead Maurevel can write or speak.
The question is touching Margot, who deceives you, and her
lover, whom we are going to strangle."
Henry started, and looked with an air of bewilderment at the
king.
" You won't be sorry for that, I know, Harry. Margot will
cry like a thousand Niobes, but I won't have you made a fool of.
Let D'Anjou deceive Conde, I do not care3 Cond£ is my enemy
—but you are my brother, my friend."
" But, sire "
" I will not have you molested3 you are deceived, but you
shall have such a reparation, that to-morrow every one shall
say ' Mille noms (Tun diable! The king loves his brother
Harry, for he twisted M. de la Mole's neck finely for his sake
last night.'"
" Are you quite resolved, sire ?" asked Henry.
" Quite; we are going on an expedition against the rascal;
myself, D'Anjou, D'Alengon, and Guise. A king, two princes
of the blood, and a sovereign prince, without reckoning your-
self." " Ho\y ! without reckoning me ?"
" Of course you will be with us."
" But, sire, do you know for certain ?"
" Why, the rascal boasts of it. He goes sometimes to see her
at the Louvre, sometimes at the Rue Cloche-Percee : take a
dagger with you."
" Sire," said Henry, " upon reflection, your majesty will com-
prehend that I cannot take part in this expedition. I am too
much interested in it, not to have my presence ascribed to a
desire of vengeance. Your majesty punishes a man who calum-
niates your sister 3 and Marguerite, whom I maintain innocent,
28o
MARGUERITE DE VALOJS.
is not dishonoured; but if I am associated with it, my co-
operation converts an act of justice into a murder, my wife
is no longer calumniated, she is guilty."
" Mordieu, Harry ! as I told my mother just now, you have the
quickest wit of all of us."
And Charles regarded his brother-in-law^ complacently.
Henry bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment.
" Well, well, leave all to me. It shall not be the worse
executed."
"I leave it all in your hands."
"At what time does he usually go to your wife's apart-
ments ?"
" About nine o'clock."
" And at what hour does he leave ?"
" Before I come, for I never see him."
" What time is that ?"
"About eleven."
" Good; come down this evening at midnight, all will be over."
And Charles, after shaking Henry's hand, and renewing his
protestations of friendship, left the apartment, whistling a favour-
ite hunting air.
Henry laughed as he could laugh when no one was there to
hear him.
" Ventre-saint-gris /" said he, " I will wager anything the
queen-mother is at the bottom of all this. She does nothing
but try to get up quarrels between my wife and me."
At seven o'clock the same evening, a young man who had
just left the bath, perfumed and attired himself, humming a
gay air the while. Beside him slept, or rather reclined on the
bed, another young man.
The one was La Mole, the other Coconnas.
" Where are you going to-night ?" asked the latter.
" Where am I going ?" said La Mole. "Iam going to the
queen."
"Ah, true ! I forgot. Here is your mantle."
" No, that is the black; I want the cherry one; the queen
prefers me in that."
"Ah, mafoiP said Coconnas; "look for yourself; I do not
see it."
" Not see it!" replied La Mole. " Where can it be then ?"
At this moment, as, after having turned everything upside
down, La Mole was beginning to abuse the thieves who dared
PROJECTS OF VENGEANCE.
even rob in the Louvre, the door opened, and a page of the
Duke d'Alen9on appeared with the mantle in question.
"Ah !" said La Mole, "here it is."
" Yes, sir, monseigneur sent for it, to decide a wager about its
colour."
The page retired, and La Mole clasped on his cloak.
" Well," said he to Coconnas, " what are you going to do ?"
" I do not know." " Bah ; well, au revoir /"
"That La Mole is a terrible fellow," thought Coconnas; " he's
always wanting to know where one is going, as if one knew;" and
he composed himself to sleep.
As for La Mole, he betook himself to the Queen of Navarre's
apartments.
In the corridor he met the Duke d'Alen§on.
" Ah, 'tis you, La Mole !" said he.
" Yes, monseigneur."
" Are you going out of the Louvre ?"
" No, your highness, I am going to pay my respects to the
Queen of Navarre."
" At what time shall you quit her ?"
" Has monseigneur any orders for me ?"
"No, but I shall have this evening."
" At what hour ?"——" From nine to ten."
" I will not fail to wait on your highness."
"Well, I rely upon you."
La Mole bowed, and went on.
" It is very strange," thought he, " the duke is pale some-
times as a corpse."
And he knocked at the door. Gillonne, who seemed to be
watching his arrival, opened it, and conducted him to the
queen. Marguerite was occupied with something that seemed
to fatigue her greatly; a paper covered with notes, and a volume
of Isocrates lay before her. She signed to La Mole to let her
finish the sentence ; and then, casting aside her pen, invited him
to sit by her.
La Mole had never seemed so handsome and so gay.
" Greek !" cried he, glancing at the volume; " Isocrates !
what are you doing ? Ah, and on this paper Latin—' Ad Sar-
matise legatos reginse Margaritse concio,'—you are going to
harangue these barbarians in Latin, then ?"
"I must, since they do not understand French. They
arrived this morning; and you will find," added Marguerite,
282
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
with a slight air of pedantry, "that what I have written is
Ciceronian enough; but let us talk of what has happened to
you."
" To me ?" " Yes !"
" What has happened to me ?"
"Ay, what has happened to you ?—you look pale."
" I confess it, but it is from too much sleep."
"Come, come, do not boast, I know all."
"Tell me what you mean, for I know not."
" Listen; De Mouy, surprised last night in the apartments of
the King of Navarre, whom they wished to arrest, killed three
men, and escaped without being recognised, except by the red
mantle he wore." " Well!"
" This red mantle, which deceived me, has deceived others
also. You are suspected of this triple murder. This morning
you would have been tried and condemned, for I knew that
you would not, even to save yourself, say where you really were."
" Say where I was ?" cried La Mole; " oh, never, never ! I
would have died joyfully to spare your glorious eyes but one
tear."
" Alas, my poor friend !" replied the queen, " my glorious eyes
would have wept many, many tears !"
" But how was this storm appeased ?"
"Guess." "I cannot."
" There was but one way of proving you were not in the king's
chamber."
" And that was "
"To say where you were."
"Well!" "And I said it."
" To whom ?" "To my mother."
" And Queen Catherine "
" Knows that I love you."
" Oh, madame, after having done so much for me, my life
belongs to you !"
" I have snatched it from those who wished to take it; but
now you are saved."
" Saved by you !" cried the young man; " by you, whom I
adore "
At this moment, a sharp noise made them both start. La
Mole recoiled, and Marguerite, uttering a cry, fixed her eyes
on a broken pane in the window. By this pane a large stone
had Entered, and lay on the floor.
Projects of vengeances
283
La Mole saw the broken window, and, comprehending the
cause of the noise :
" Who has dared do this ?" cried he.
" Stay," said Marguerite; "it seems to me something is
fastened to the stone."
" It looks like a billet," replied La Mole.
Marguerite eagerly caught up the stone, round which was
wound a slip of paper. The paper was fastened to a thread
which passed out of the window.
Marguerite opened and read it.
" Oh, \Heavens !" cried she, holding out the paper, "La
Mole!" '
He looked and read :
" M. de la Mole is waited for by long swords in the corridor
leading to M. d'Alenijon's apartments ; perhaps he would prefer
leaving the Louvre by this window, and joining M. de Mouy at
Mantes."
" But," said La Mole, " are these swords longer than mine ?"
" No, but there are perhaps ten against one."
" From whom comes this billet ?" asked La Mole.
Marguerite looked attentively at it.
" The writing of the King of Navarre," said she. " If he
warns us, the danger is real—fly, then, fly !"
" How ?"
" Does it not mention the window ?"
"Command, and I will leap from the window, were it twenty
times as high !"
" Stay," said Marguerite, "this string supports a weight."
" Let us see."
And both drawing towards them the string, saw the extremity
of a ladder of silk.
" Ah, you are saved," said Marguerite.
" It is a miracle of Heaven !"
" No, it is a gift of the King of Navarre."
" What if it were a snare laid for me," said La Mole. "What
if this ladder were to break beneath me : have you not to-day
avowed your love for me, Marguerite ?"
Marguerite, to whose cheeks joy had restored the colour, be-
came deadly pale.
"You are right," said she; " it is possible." And she darted
towards the door.
" Where are you going ?" cried La Mole.
2§4
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"To assure myself you are really waited for on the corridor."
"Never, lest their vengeance fall on you !"
"What can they do to me? A queen and a woman, I am
doubly inviolable."
The queen said this with so much dignity that La Mole felt
she ran no risk, and that it was best to let her do as she
wished. Marguerite entrusted La Mole to Gillonne, leaving it
to her sagacity to decide, according to circumstances, whether
he should fly, or await her return. She advanced into the
corridor that led to the library and a suite of reception-rooms,
which opened into the king's and queen-mother's apartments,
and to the private staircase leading to D'Alengon's apartments.
Although scarcely nine, all the lights were extinguished, and,
except a slight glimmer at the end, the corridor was quite dark.
The queen advanced with a firm step, but arrived half-way, she
heard a sound of voices whispering, and the pains they took
not to bedieard, gave them a mysterious and hollow sound, but
all noise soon ceased, and the light, feeble as it was, seemed to
diminish.
Marguerite advanced; she seemed calm, but in reality the
clenching of her hands showed violent nervous agitation. As
she approached the lights, the silence seemed to grow more
intense, and a shadow like a hand obscured the flickering ray.
Suddenly, a man sprang forward, uncovered a taper, and ex-
claimed:
" Here he is !"
Marguerite found herself opposite Charles, behind him stood
D'Alen9on, a cord of silk in his hand. At the back two shadows
were visible, with swords in their hands.
Marguerite saw all this at a glance, and replied, smilingly :
"You mean here she is."
Charles recoiled ; the rest stood motionless.
" You here, Margot, at this hour ?" said he.
" Is it, then, so late ?"
" I ask you where are you going ?"
" To fetch one of the volumes of Cicero, left in our mother's
apartments."
" Without a light ?"
"I thought the corridor was lighted."
" And you come from your own apartments ?"
" Yes."
" What are you doing ?"
PROJECTS OF VENGEANCE.
285
" Preparing my speech for the Polish ambassadors."
" Is any one helping you ?"
Marguerite made a violent effort.
" M. de la Mole," replied she. " He is very learned."
" So much so," said D'Alengon, " that I requested him to help
me, as I am not so clever as you are."
"You are waiting for him ?"
"Yes," returned D'Alengon, impatiently.
"Then," said Marguerite, " I will send him to you."
" And your book !" said Charles.
" Gillonne can fetch it."
The two brothers interchanged a sign.
" Go, then," said Charles. " We will continue our round."
" Your round ?" asked Marguerite—" whom are you looking
for, then ?"
" The little red man," returned Charles; " do not you know
he is said to haunt the Louvre ? DAlen^n says he has seen
him, and we are in search of him."
" Success to your chase," said Marguerite.
In a second she was at her door.
" Open, Gillonne !" cried she.
Gillonne obeyed.
Marguerite sprang into the apartment, and found La Mole
resolute and calm—his sword drawn. " Fly !" said the queen;
" fly instantly !—there is no time to be lost !"
During her absence, La Mole had attached the ladder, and
he now stepped on it, after having tenderly embraced the
queen.
" Should I perish, remember your promise !" said he.
" It is not a promise, but an oath. Adieu !"
Encouraged by these words, La Mole glided down the ladder.
At this moment some one knocked at the door.
Marguerite did not quit the window until she had seen La
Mole reach the ground in safety.
"Madame !"said Gillonne; "madame !"
"Well."
"The king is knocking at the door."
"Open it."
Gillonne did so.
The four princes, doubtless impatient, stood at the threshold;
Charles entered.
Marguerite advanced to meet him.
286
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS,
The king cast a rapid glance around.
" Whom are you seeking ?" asked the queen.
" Whom am I seeking ?" said Charles. " Corbceuf'I am
seeking M. de la Mole."
" M. de la Mole ?"
"Yes ! where is he ?"
Marguerite _ took her brother's hand, and led him to the
window.
At this moment, two men from beneath the window started
off on horseback, at full speed; one of them detached his white
satin scarf, and waved it in the air. They were La Mole and
Orthon.
Marguerite pointed them out with her finger to Charles.
" What does this mean ?" asked he.
" It means," returned Marguerite, " that M. d'Alen§on may
put his cord in his pocket, and MM. d'Anjou and Guise may
sheathe their swords, for M. de la Mole will not pass through
the corridor to-night."
CHAPTER XL.
the atrides.
Since his return to Paris, Henry d'Anjou had not had a con-
fidential interview with his mother Catherine, of whom, as every-
body knows, he was the favourite son.
And Catherine really preferred this child for his courage, or
even more for his beauty. She alone knew of his return to
Paris, of which Charles IX. would have remained ignorant, if
chance had not conducted him to the Hotel de Condd at the
moment when his brother was quitting it. Charles had not ex-
pected him until the next day, and Henry d'Anjou had hoped
to conceal from him the two motives which had hastened his
arrival by a day, namely, his visit to the lovely Marie de Cleves,
Princess de Cond£, and his conference with the Polish ambas-
sadors.
When the Duke d'Anjou, so long expected, entered his
mother's apartment, Catherine, usually so cold and unmoved,
and who, since the departure of her son, had embraced no one
with warmth except Coligny, who was to be murdered next day,
opened her arms to the child of her love, and pressed him to
THE A TRIBES.
her heart with an effusion of maternal affection astonishing to
find in that withered heart.
" Ah, madame," said he, " since Heaven gives me the satis-
faction of embracing my mother without witness, pray console
the most wretched man in the world,"
" Eh, mon Dieu ! my dearest child," cried Catherine, " what
has happened to you ?"
" Nothing that you do not know, mother; I am in love; I
am beloved; but this very love, which would form the bliss of
any other, causes my misery."
" Explain yourself, my son," said Catherine.
" Ah ! mother—these ambassadors—this departure."
" Yes," said Catherine, " the ambassadors have arrived—the
departure is nigh at hand."
" It need not be nigh at hand, but my brother urges it; he
hates me ; I am in his way, and he would fain be rid of me."
Catherine smiled.
" By giving you a throne ?—unhappy crowned head !"
" Oh, I need it not, mother," replied Henry, in agony; " I
do not wish to go. I! a son of France ! brought up in the re-
finement of polished manners, beside a tender mother; beloved
by one of the most charming women on earth, must I go, then,
amidst snows at the furthest extremity of the earth, to die by
inches, amongst coarse rough people, who are intoxicated from
morning till night, and gauge the capacities of their king as they
do those of a cask, according to the quantity it can hold ! No,
no, my mother, I will not go ; I will die first!"
"Courage, Henry," said Catherine, pressing his hands be-
tween her own, " let us inquire into the real reason,"
Henry lowered his eyes, as if he dared not let his mother read
what was in his heart.
" Is there no other reason," she asked, "less romantic, more
reasonable, more public ?"
" Mother, it is not my fault if this idea dwells in my mind,
and perchance retains a place it should not hold; but have
you not said yourself that the horoscope of my brother Charles
prophesies that he will die young ?"
"Yes," replied Catherine, " but a horoscope may lie, my son,
I myself, at this moment, hope that all horoscopes are not true,"
" But did not his horoscope declare this ?"
" His horoscope spoke of a quarter of a century, but did not
say if it were for his life or for his reign."
288
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Well, then, dear mother, contrive that I remain ; my brother
is nearly four-and-twenty, and another year must decide."
Catherine pondered deeply. "Yes, assuredly," she said, "it
would be better if it could be so arranged."
"Oh, judge then, my mother," cried Henry, "what despair
for me, if I were to exchange the crown of France for the crown
of Poland ! To be tormented there with the idea that I might
reign at the Louvre, in the midst of this lettered and elegant
court, near the best mother in the world, whose counsels would
save me one half of my fatigue and labours, who, accustomed
to bear with my father a portion of the burthen of the state,
would kindly bear it also with me. Ah, my mother, I should
have been a great king !"
" Come, come, my dearest child," said Catherine, to whom
this prospect had always been a very sweet hope, " come, do
not despair. Have you thought of any way by which this could
be arranged ?"
" Yes, assuredly, and that is the principal reason why I
returned two or three days before I was expected, making my
brother Charles believe that it was for Madame de Conde; then
I have formed an acquaintance with Lasco, the principal envoy,
doing all I could to make myself unpopular and disliked, and
I hope I have succeeded."
"Ah, my dear son," said Catherine, "that is bad; we must
always put the interest of France before your petty dislikes."
" Mother, does the interest of France require, in case of any
misfortune happening to my brother Charles, that D'Alenfjon or
the King of Navarre should ascend the throne ?"
"Oh, the King of Navarre! Never! never!" murmured
Catherine.
"Ma foi/" continued Henry, "my brother D'Alengon is no
better, and does not love you more."
"Well," asked Catherine, "and what said Lasco?"
" Lasco hesitated when I pressed him to seek an audience.
Oh ! if he would write to Poland, and annul the election."
" Folly, my son; very madness! What a Diet has conse-
crated is sacred."
" But then, mother, could not these Poles accept my brother
in my stead ?"
" This is difficult, if not impossible."
"Nevermind: try; speak to the king, mother; ascribe all
to my love for Madame de Conde; say I am mad, crazy about
THE A TRIBES.
289
her. He saw me, besides, leave the hotel of the prince with
Guise, who does me every service in that quarter."
"Yes, in order to make his league; you do not perceive
this, but I da"
"Yes, mother, yes; but, in the meantime, I make use of
him. Should we not be glad when a man serves us whilst
serving himself?"
" And what said the king when he met you ?"
" He seemed to believe what I told him, which was, that
love only had brought me back to Paris."
" But did he not. ask you for any account of the rest of the
night ?"
" Yes, mother; but I went to sup at Nantouillet's, where I
made a great riot, so that the king might hear of it, and have
no suspicion as to where I was."
, " Then he knows nothing of your visit to Lasco ?"
" Nothing."
" So much the better. I will try, then, to speak for you, my
poor boy; but you know the intractable disposition of him
with whom I have to deal."
" Charles will not allow me to remain. He detests me."
" He is jealous of you, my beautiful hero ! Why are you so
brave and fortunate? Why, at scarcely twenty years of age,
have you gained battles like Alexander and Caesar ? But do
not open your heart to every one. Pretend to be resigned, and
pay your court to the king. Leave all the rest to me. Apropos,
and how succeeded your expedition of last night ?"
"It failed, mother. The gay gallant was warned, and
escaped by the window."
" Some day," said Catherine, " I shall learn who is the bad
genius who thus counteracts all my projects. In the mean-
while, I have my suspicion. Malediction be on him !"
" Then, mother " said the Duke a'Anjou.
" Leave me to manage all;" and kissing Henry tenderly, he
left the apartment.
The princes of the house then arrived. Charles was in a
capital humour; for the assurance of his sister Marguerite had
rather pleased than vexed him. He felt no olfence against La
Mole otherwise, and had awaited him with some ardour in the
corridor, simply because it was a kind of chase.
D Alen^n, on the other hand, was much pre-occupied. The
repulsion he had always felt for La Mole had changed into
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
hate from the moment he knew that he was beloved by his
sister. Marguerite was, at the same time, meditative and alert.
She had to remember and to watch. The Polish deputies had
sent a copy of the harangues to be pronounced.
Marguerite, to whom no more mention had been made of the
occurrences of the previous evening, than if they had never
taken place, read the discourses ; and, except Charles, every
one discussed what the replies should be. Charles allowed
Marguerite to reply as she pleased. He was somewhat difficult
in his choice of words for D'Alenqon ; but as to the discourse
of Henry d'Anjou, he attacked it bitterly, and made endless
corrections and additions.
This meeting, without having any decisive issue, tended to
envenom the feelings of all. Henry d'Anjou, who had to re-
write nearly all his discourse, went out to perform his task.
Marguerite, who had not heard of the King of Navarre since he
had broken her window-pane, went to his apartment, in the
hope of finding him there. D'AlenQon, who had read the
hesitation in his brother D'Anjou's eyes, and surprised a
meaning look between him and his mother, withdrew to ponder
over what might be the fresh plot. Charles was going to his
forge to finish a boar-spear he was making for himself, when
Catherine stopped him.
Charles, who expected some opposition to his will from his
mother, paused, and gazed sternly on her.
" Well," said he, "and what now?"
" One other word, sire: we had forgotten it, and yet it is
of much importance. What day do you fix for the public
reception ?"
" True !" said the king, seating himself; "let us talk it over,
mother. Well, what day shall it be ?"
" I think,"replied Catherine, "that in your majesty's silence,
your apparent forgetfulness,. there was something of deep
calculation."
" Why so, mother ?"
"Because," added the queen-mother, very quietly, "there is
no need, my son, as it appears to me, that the Poles should see
us crave their crown with such avidity."
"On the contrary, mother," said Charles, "they have
hastened, by forced marches, from Warsaw hither. Honour
for honour—politeness for politeness !"
" Your majesty may be right in one sense, as in another I
THE ATE IDES.
291
am not wrong; Your opinion then is, that the public reception
should be hastened ?"
" Certainly; and is it not yours also ?"
"You know that I have no opinions but such as are con-
nected with your glory : and I tell you then, that thus hasten-
ing the affair, I should fear that you might be accused of
profiting very quickly by this occasion which presents itself for
relieving France of the costs and charges of your brother; but
which assuredly he repays by rendering it back in glory and
devotion."
" Mother," said Charles, " when my brother leaves France, I
will so richly endow him that no one will even dare to think
that you fear what they may say
" Well," said Catherine, " I give up, since you have such
good answers to all my objections ; but to receive this warlike
people, who judge of the power of states from exterior signs,
you must have a considerable display of troops; and I do not
think that there are yet enough assembled in the Ile-de-France ?"
" Excuse me, mother, but I had foreseen this event, and was
prepared for it. I have recalled two battalions from Normandy ;
one from Guienne : my company of archers arrived yesterday
from Brittany : the light horse spread over Lorraine will be in
Paris in the course of the day, and, whilst it is supposed that I
can scarcely command four regiments, I have twenty thousand
men ready to appear."'
" Ah! ah !" said Catherine, surprised, " then there is only
one thing wanting ; but that you will procure."
"What is that?"
" Money ; I imagine you have not a superabundance."
" On the contrary, madame, on the contrary," said Charles
IX.; " I have fourteen hundred thousand crowns in the
Bastille : my private estates have this week brought me in eight
hundred thousand crowns, which I have buried in my cellars in
the Louvre ; and in case of need, Nantouillet has three hundred
thousand crowns besides, at my disposal."
Catherine trembled; for she had before seen Charles violent
and passionate, but never provident.
"Well, then," she added, "your majesty thinks of every-
thing—admirable! and if the tailors, embroiderers, and jewellers
use despatch, your majesty will be ready to give this audience
in less than six weeks."
" Six weeks i" exclaimed Charles, " why, mother, the tailors,
19—2
292
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
embroiderers, and jewellers, have been hard at work since the
day when they learnt of my brother's nomination, and all may
be ready to-day, perhaps, but certainly in three or four days."
" Ah," murmured Catherine; " you are in greater haste than
I thought, my son."
"Honour for honour, as I have already said."
" Good; then it is this honour done to the house of France
that flatters you—is it not ?"
" Assuredly."
" And to see a son of France on the throne of Poland is your
chief desire ?"
" Precisely so."
" Then it is the fact, and not the man, that affects you, and
whoever may reign there "
" No, no, mother, corbceuf! no. Let us be as we are ! The
Poles have made a good choice—they are skilful, clever fellows !
A military nation, a people of soldiers, they take a captain for
their ruler. Peste /—D'Anjou is their man. The hero of
Jarnac and Moncontour suits them like a glove. Whom would
you have me send them ? D'Alengon—a coward !—he would
give them a.fine idea of the house of Yalois ! D'Alengon would
flee the very first ball that whistled by his ears, whilst Henry
d'Anjou is a warrior bold and tried; his sword always in his
hand, always on the march, on his war-horse or on foot. For-
ward—cut down, thrust, crush, slay! Ah, he is a brave and
skilful man, my brother D'Anjou: a gallant soldier, who'll give
them fighting from morning till night—from the first of January
to the thirty-first of December ! He is not a hard drinker, it is
true ; but he will do his work in cold blood, you see. He will
be in his element, dear Henry will!—On ! on ! to the field of
battle ! bravo, trumpets and drums ! Vive le roi / Long live
the conqueror! Long live the general! They will proclaim
him emperor three times a-year ! This will be admirable for the
house of France and the honour of the Valois ! he may be
killed perchance, but ventre-mahom / it will be a glorious death !"
Catherine shuddered, but her eyes glanced fire.
" Say," she cried, " that you wish to send your brother, Henry
d'Anjou away. Say you do not love your brother."
" Ah, ah, ah!" exclaimed Charles, laughing nervously ; " what,
have you divined that I wished to send him away ? Have you
divined that I do not love him? And suppose it were so?
Love my brother !—why should I love my brother ? Ah, ah,
THE ATRIDES.
293
all ! would you make me laugh ?" and as he spoke, his pale
cheeks were animated with feverish red. "Does he love me?
Do you love me? Is there, except my dogs, Marie Touchet,
and my nurse, is there one living thing that has ever loved
me? No, no, I do not love my brother; I love only myself
—do you understand? and I do not prevent my brother from
doing as I do."
"Sire," said Catherine, becoming animated in her turn, " since
you unfold your heart to me, I must open mine to you. You
act like a weak king—like an ill-advised king : you send away
your second brother, the natural support of your throne, who
is, in all respects, fit to succeed you, if any misfortune hap-
pened to you—leaving, in this event, your crown in jeopardy ;
for, as you said, D'Alengon is young, incapable, weak—more
than weak—cowardly ! and the Bearnais is waiting in the back-
ground !"
" Well, mort de tout les diables /" cried Charles, " what is that
to me when I am dead ? The Bearnais is waiting in the back-
ground, say you? Corbceuf / so much the better! I said I
loved no one—I was wrong: I love Harry—yes, I love the
good Harry, with his free air and his warm hand, whilst I see
around me none but false eyes, and touch none but ice-cold
hands. He is incapable of treason towards me, I will swear !
Besides, I owe a recompense : they poisoned his mother, poor
fellow ; some persons of my family, too, it is said. Besides, I
am in good health; but if I felt sick, I would send for him,
and he should not quit my side : I would take nothing but
from his hand; and, should I die, I would make him King of
France and Navarre, and, ventre du fiape ! instead of laughing
at my death, as my brother would do, he would weep, or at
least appear to do so."
Had a thunderbolt fallen at Catherine's feet, she would have
been less alarmed than at these words. She remained aghast,
looking at Charles with a haggard eye; and then, at the end
of a few seconds, she cried: .
" Henry of Navarre ! Henry of Navarre, King of France,
to the prejudice of my children ! Ah, sainte Madonci / we will
see ! It is for this you would send away my son of Anjou ?"
"Your son ! and what, then, am I—a son of the wolf, like
Romulus ?" cried Charles, trembling with rage, and his eye
sparkling as if it were on fire. "Your son! You are right;
and the King of France, then, is not your son ? The King of
294
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
France has no brothers; the King of France has no mother;
the King of France has no subjects ! the King of France has
no need of sentiment—he has will. He can do without being
loved, but he will be obeyed !"
" Sire, you have mistaken my words. I called him my son
who is about to leave me. I love him better at this moment,
because I fear to lose him at this moment. Is it a crime for a
mother to desire that her son should not leave her ?"
" And I—I tell you he shall leave you. I tell you he shall
leave France, and go to Poland, and that in two days—and
if you add one word, in one day—to-morrow ; and if you do
not smooth your brow, and lose the menace that glares in your
eyes, I will strangle him to-night, as you would have strangled
your daughter's lover yesternight; only I will not miss my clutch
of him as we did of La M61e."
At this threat Catherine bent down her head, and then again
instantly raised it.
"Ah, poor child !" she said, "your brother would kill you;
but be tranquil, your mother will defend you."
" Do you brave me ?" cried Charles. " Well, then, by all the
devils ! he shall die—not this evening, but this very moment.
A weapon ! a weapon ! a dagger ! a knife !—ah !"
Charles, after having vainly sought all around for what he
asked for, saw the small stiletto which his mother wore at her
girdle, seized it, drew it from its shagreen and silver case, and
rushed out of the chamber, with the determination of striking
Henry d'Anjou wherever he found him; but on reaching the
vestibule, his over-excited strength gave way suddenly, and, ex-
tending his arm, he let fall the keen weapon, which stuck in the
floor, and uttering a lamentable cry, he swooned and fell on the
floor, whilst the blood flowed abundantly from his nose and his
mouth.
" Help !" he cried; " they kill me ! help ! help !"
Catherine, who had followed, saw him fall, looked at him for
an instant without moving or calling, and then recalled to her-
self, not by maternal instinct, but by the difficulty of her situa-
ation, she opened a door, and shrieked out:
" The king is taken ill. Help ! help !"
At this cry, a crowd of servants, officers, and courtiers,
hastened to the young king; but foremost of all a woman
rushed on, pushing aside the crowd, and raised Charles, who
was as pale as a corpse.
THE ATRIDES.
255
" They are killing me, nurse—they are killing me !" mur*
mured the king, bathed in perspiration and blood.
" They are killing my Charles !" cried the good creature,
looking every one in the face in a way that made even Cathe-
rine retreat; " and who is killing you ?"
Charles uttered a sigh, and again fainted.
" Ah, ah !" said the doctor, Ambroise Pare, whom they had
sent for; " ah ! the king is very ill."
" Now, by choice of compulsion," said the implacable Ca-
therine to herself, "he must accede to a delay;" and she left
the king to go to her second son, who was awaiting in the
oratory the result of an interview so vitally important to hinm
self.
CHAPTER XLI,
the horoscope.
On leaving the oratory, in which her son had been acquainted
with what had passed, Catherine found Rene in her chamber.
" Well," asked the queen, " have you seen him ?"
" Yes."
" How is he ?" " Rather better."
" Can he speak ?"
" No, the sword has traversed the larynx."
" I told you to make him write."
" I tried, but he could only trace two letters, and then
fainted; the jugular vein has been cut into, and^the loss of
blood has greatly weakened him."
" Have you seen these letters ?"
" Here they are."
Rene took a paper from his pocket, and presented it to the
queen, who hastily opened it.
" An m and an o," said she, " Can it be, after all, M. de la
Mole—and that the confession of Marguerite's was only to
avert suspicion?"
"Madame," returned Rene, "if I may venture an opinion,
I should say M. de la Mole is too much in love to trouble his
head about politics; and, above all, too much in love with
Madame Marguerite to serve her husband very devotedly, for
there is no deep love without jealousy."
"You think him in love, then?"
296
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Desperately."
" Has he had recourse to you ?"
" Yes; I made him a waxen image."
" Pierced to the heart ?"
" To the heart."
" Have you it still ?"
" At my house."
" I wonder," said Catherine, " if these cabalistic preparations
have really the power attributed to them ?"
"Your majesty knows even more than I what their influence
is."
" Does Marguerite love La Mole ?"
" Sufficiently to ruin herself for him. Yesterday she saved
him at the risk of her honour and her life; you see all this,
and yet you doubt."
" Doubt what ?"
" Science."
" I doubt because science has deceived me," looking fixedly
at Rfend.
" On what occasion ?"
" Rene, have your perfumes lost their odour ?"
"No, madame; not when I prepare them."
" Well, well," said Catherine, " we will speak of that some
other time. Tell me what is necessary to arrive at an idea of
the probable length of a person's life ?"
"To know, first, the day of his birth, his age, and what con-
stellation he was born under."
" Next ?"
"To have some of his blood and hair."
" If I bring and tell you all you require, can you tell me the
probable time of his death ?"
"Yes, within a few days."
" I have his hair, and I will procure some of his blood."
"Was he born in the day, or during the night?"
"At twenty-three minutes past five in the evening."
" Be with me to-morrow at five o'clock; the experiment
must be made at the precise hour of the birth."
" Good !" said Catherine. " We will be there.''
Rend saluted, and retired without affecting to notice the
"we," which indicated that, contrary to her usual habits, the
queen would not come alone.
The next morning, at daybreak, Catherine entered her son
THE HOROSCOPE.
297
Charles's apartment; she had inquired after him at midnight,
and was informed that Maitre Ambroise Pare was with him,
and intended bleeding him if the same nervous agitation con-
tinued. Shuddering even in his slumbers, pale from loss of
blood, Charles slept, his head resting on his faithful nurse's
shoulder, who, leaning against the bed, had not changed her
position for three hours, fearing to-disturb him.
Catherine asked if her son had not been bled. The nurse
replied he had, and so abundantly that he had twice fainted.
The blood was in a basin in the adjoining room ; Catherine
entered, under pretence of examining it, and whilst so doing,
she filled with it a phial she had brought with her for the pur-
pose, then returned, hiding her red fingers, that would other-
wise have betrayed her, in her pockets.
As she reappeared, Charles opened his eyes, and perceived
his mother; then, recollecting the events of the previous even-
ing, " Ah ! it is you, madame," said he; " well, you may tell
your dear son, Henry d'Anjou, it will be to-morrow."
" It shall be when you please, my dear Charles; compose
yourself, and go to sleep."
1 Charles closed his eyes, and Catherine left the room, but no
sooner had she quitted it, than Charles, raising himself, cried,
" Send for the chancellor—the court—I want them all!"
The nurse replaced his head upon her shoulder, and sought
to lull him to sleep.
"No, no, nurse!" said he, "I shall not sleep any more.
Summon my people ; I wish to work to-day."
When Charles spoke thus, no one dared disobey, and even
the nurse, spite of the familiarity she enjoyed, did not venture
to dispute his orders. The chancellor was summoned, and the
audience fixed, not for the morrow, but for the fifth day from
that time.
At five o'clock, the queen and the Duke d'Anjou proceeded
to Rene's, who, in expectation of their visit, had prepared
everything for the experiment. In the chamber on the right,
that is, in the chamber of sacrifice, a blade of steel, covered
with singular arabesques, was heating in a brazier of charcoal.
On the altar lay the book of fate, and as the previous night had
been very clear, Rene had been enabled to consult the stars.
Henry d'Anjou entered first. He had false hair, and his face
and figure were concealed beneath a mask and large cloak.
His mother followed him, and had she not been aware of his
29§
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
disguise, would not have recognised him. The queen took off
her mask; D'Anjou, however, did not follow her example.
" Have you consulted the stars ?" asked Catherine.
" I have, madame, and they have already informed me of the
past. The person whose fate you desire to know has, like all
persons born under Cancer, a fiery and ardent disposition ; he
is powerful, he has lived nearly a quarter of a century, Heaven
has granted him wealth and power—is it not so, madame ?"
" Perhaps."
" Have you his hair and blood ?"
" Here they are."
And Catherine gave the magician a lock of fair hair and a
small phial of blood,
Rend took the phial, shook it, and let fall on the glowing
steel blade a large drop of blood that boiled for a second, and
then spread itself into a thousand fantastic shapes.
" Ola!" cried Rend, " I see him convulsed with agony,
Hark ! how he groans—see, how all around him turns to blood
—see how, around his death-bed, combats and wars arise; and
see, here are the lances and swords !"
" Will this be long first ?" asked Catherine, seizing the hand
of her son, who, in his anxiety to see, had leaned over the
brazier.
Rend approached the altar, and repeated a cabalistic prayer;
then he rose, and announcing all was ready, took in one hand
the phial and in the other the lock of hair, and bidding Cathe-
rine open at hazard the book of fate, he poured on the steel
blade all the blood and cast the hair in the fire, pronouncing
a mystic formula as he did so.
Instantly the Duke d'Anjou and Catherine saw on the blade
a figure resembling a corpse wrapped in a winding-sheet.
Another figure, that of a woman, leaned over it.
At the same time, the hair burned, casting out one jet of
flame like a fiery tongue.
" A year," cried Rend, " scarce a year, and this man shall
die ! One woman alone shall lament over him; and yet, no :
at the end of the blade is another female, with an infant in her
arms."
Catherine looked at her son, as if, though herself the mother
of the man whose death was announced, she would ask him who
these two women could be. But scarcely had Rend finished,
when the forms disappeared. Then Catherine opened the book
THE HOROSCOPE.
299
at hazard, and read, with a voice that trembled in spite of her-
self, the following distich :
" Ainsi a peri cil que l'on redoutoit,
Plutost, trop tost, si prudence n'etoit."
" And for him that you wot of," said Catherine, " what say
the signs ?"
" Favourable as ever; unless Providence interpose to thwart
his destiny, he is sure to be fortunate, but "
^ " But what ?"
" One of the stars composing his pleiad was covered^ by a
black cloud during my observations."
" Ah, a black cloud !—but there is some hope ?"
f; " Of whom speak you, madame ?" asked D'Anjou.
Catherine drew her son on one side, and spoke to him in
a low voice.
During this interval, Rene, kneeling by the brazier, poured
into the hollow of hand the last drop of blood.
"Strange," murmured he. "It only proves how little can
human knowledge compete with ours. To every one but me,
even to Ambroise Pare, this blood, so pure, so full of health,
promises years of life, and yet all will be useless ere a year
expire."
Catherine and Henry turned and listened.
" Ah !" continued Rene, " to the uninitiated the present is
manifest, but to us the future is also manifest."
" He will die, then, before the year be over ?" said the queen-
mother.
" As surely as there are three persons present who must one
day repose in the grave."
" Yet you say the blood indicates a long life ?"
"Yes, if things were to follow the natural course; but an
accident "
" Ah, yes," whispered Catherine to Henry ; " an accident."
" The greater reason for staying."
" Oh, that is impossible."
Then, turning to Rene : " Thanks," said the young man,
disguising the tone of his voice ; " take this purse."
" Come, count," said Catherine, purposely using this title, to
divert Rent's suspicions. And they left the chamber.
" Mother," cried Henry, " you hear ?—an accident: should
it happen, I shall be four hundred leagues away."
3°°
MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
" Four hundred leagues may be accomplished in eight days."
"Yes ; but who knows if they will suffer me to return."
" Who knows," replied the queen, " but this illness of the
king's may be the accident of which Rend spoke. Go, Henry,
go, and beware of irritating your brother, should you see him."
CHAPTER XLII.
mutual confidences.
The first thing the Duke d'Anjou learned on reaching the
Louvre was, that the solemn entry of the ambassadors was fixed
for the fifth day. The tailors and jewellers waited on the prince
with magnificent dresses and superb ornaments which the king
had ordered for him.
Whilst he fitted them on in a state of anger that brought tears
to his eyes, Henry of Navarre was amusing himself greatly with
a splendid collar of emeralds, a gold-hilted sword, and a very
valuable ring, which Charles had sent him that morning.
D'Alemjon had just received a letter, and had retired to his
chamber, in order to read it at his leisure.
As to Coconnas, he was asking for his friend from every echo
in the Louvre. At length, the rumour of the affair in the cor-
ridor began to be bruited about. Coconnas was in the utmost
grief: for a moment he believed that all these kings and princes
had killed his friend and thrown his body into some dungeon.
He learned that D'Alentjon had been of the party, and over-
looking the dignity that encompassed a prince of the blood, he
went to him to demand an explanation with as little ceremony
as if he had been a private gentleman.
D'Alen^on, at first, was inclined to show the door to an im-
pertinent who came to ask an account of his actions ; but
Coconnas spoke so sternly, his eyes glared with so much rage,
and an adventure of three duels in less than twenty hours which
he had had, placed the Piedmontese so high, that he paused,
and instead of giving way to his first impulse, replied with a
charming smile :
" My dear Coconnas, it is true that the king, furious at having
received on his shoulder a silver ewer, the Duke d'Anjou, angry
at having orange jam poured on his head, and the Duke de
Guise, humiliated by having been assailed with a haunch of
MUTUAL CONFIDENCES.
301
venison, combined to kill M. de la Mole ; but a friend of your
friend's averted the blow, and I assure you the enterprise failed."
"Ah," said Coconnas, breathing as loudly at this information
as a smith's bellows ; "ah, mordi! monseigneur, that is well;
and I should like to know this friend, to prove my gratitude."
D'Alen^on made no reply, but smiled more agreeably still,
which made Coconnas believe that this friend was none other
than the prince -himself.
" Well, monseigneur," he continued, " since you have done
so much as to tell me the commencement of this story, will you
complete the obligation by relating to me the conclusion?"
D'Alentjon shook his head.
"The worst of all," he said, "my brave Coconnas, is, that
your friend disappeared without any one knowing whither."
" Mordi /" cried the Piedmontese, again turning pale with
indignation; " but I will know where he is !"
"Go to the Queen Marguerite," said D'Alemjon, who was as
anxious as Coconnas to learn where De la Mole was; " she
will know what has become of the friend you lament."
" I had already thought of doing so," replied Coconnas.
" Do so," added the prince; " only do not say it was by my
advice j for if you are so imprudent, you may not obtain any
information."
" Monseigneur," said Coconnas, "as your royal highness re-
commends me to secrecy on this point, I will be as mute as a
tench, or the queen-mother. Good prince ! excellent prince !
magnanimous prince !" murmured Coconnas, as he went to the
Queen of Navarre.
Marguerite was awaiting Coconnas ; for the noise of his
despair had reached her, and she almost forgave him his some-
what coarse behaviour to Madame de Nevers, whom the Pied-
montese had not visited, in consequence of a dispute between
them two or three days previously. He was therefore intro-
duced to the queen as soon as announced.
Coconnas entered, not altogether able to surmount the em-
barrassment which he always felt to a certain extent in the
presence of the queen, and which was the greater from her
superiority of wit than of rank ; but Marguerite greeted him with
a smile which instantly reassured him.
" Ah, madame !" he exclaimed, " restore my friend to me, I
entreat you ; or, at least, tell me what has become of him ; for
without him I cannot live. Suppose Euryalus without Nisus,
302
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
Damon without Pythias, or Orestes without Pylades, and have
pity on my misfortune at the loss of my dear friend."
Marguerite smiled, and after having bound Coconnas to
secrecy, told him all about the escape by the window. As to
the place Of his concealment, although Coconnas urged her to
reveal it with all earnestness, she decidedly refused, but added :
" Well, if you wish to learn something decisive as to your
friend, ask the King of Navarre, who is the only person that has
a right to speak. As for me, all I can tell you is, that he you
are seeking lives ; have faith in my word !"
"I have faith in something still more sure, madame: those
lovely eyes have not been weeping."
Then, thinking he could not add anything to this compliment,
he retired, fully resolved to seek a reconciliation with Madame
de Nevers, just to find if she knew more than Marguerite would
tell him. The idea of leaving Marguerite had almost broken
La Mole's heart, and it was rather to save the reputation of the
queen than to preserve his own life that he had consented to
fly. Thus the next evening he returned to Paris, to try and see
Marguerite at her balcony. Marguerite, on her side, as if a
secret voice had informed her that he would be there, had
passed the evening at her window, and thus they had seen each
other with happiness, a sentiment that may be readily imagined.
La Mole, anxious to be always near Marguerite, occupied
himself in organising, with all possible despatch, the event which
would restore her to him, namely, the flight of the King of
Navarre.
Marguerite having thus seen La Mole, and being aware of his
safety, was at ease with respect to him, but fearing he might be
watched fand followed, she pertinaciously refused to give him
any other meeting than these a /'Espagnole, which took place
every evening until the night before the reception of the am-
bassadors. On this evening, about nine o'clock, when all the
persons in the Louvre were preoccupied with the preparations
for next day, Marguerite opened her window and went into the
balcony; but scarcely was she there, than the note she expected,
according to La Mole's usual custom, was thrown with his usual
skill, and fell at the feet of his royal mistress. As he had gene-
rally awaited her missive, Marguerite understood, that by antici-
pating her he had some important intelligence to communicate,
and read it with all haste. The billet in the first page contained
these words :
MUTUAL CONFIDENCES.
303
" Madame,—I must speak to the King of Navarre; it is on
a most urgent matter. I am waiting."
And in'the second page, which could be detached from the
other, was written :
"My.Lady and Queen,—Manage that I may speak with you.
I am waiting."
Marguerite had scarcely finished the second side of this letter
than she heard the voice of Henry of Navarre, who, with his
usual reserve, tapped at the door, and asked Gillonne if he might
be allowed to enter.
The queen instantly divided the sheet of paper, put one of
the pages in her pocket, ran to the window, which she shut, and
going quickly to the door, said : " Come in, sire."
Gently, quickly, and cleverly as Marguerite had closed the
window, the sound had reached the ears of Henry, whose senses
were always on the alert, and who had in the society he so
greatly mistrusted acquired that exquisite delicacy of hearing
and sight which man acquires in a savage state. But the King
of Navarre was not one of those tyrants who wish to prevent
their wives from taking the air and gazing on the stars. Henry
was smiling and urbane as usual.
" Madame," he said, " whilst our people of the court are try-
ing on their fine apparel, I have come to have a few words with
you as to my affairs, which you still regard as your own, do you
not ?"
" Most assuredly, sir," replied Marguerite ; " are not our in-
terests always identical ?"
"Yes, madame; and therefore I wished to ask your opinion
as to the pains which D'Alemjon has taken for several days to
avoid me, so much so, that since the day before yesterday he
has betaken himself to Saint-Germains. Do you not think from
this, that it is his intention either to go away alone, or not to go
at all ? Let me, if you please, have your ideas on this point;
for it would have great weight with me if your opinion should
coincide with mine."
" Your majesty is quite right to feel uneasy as to my brother's
silence. I have thought of it all day; and it is my opinion,
that, circumstance's having changed, he has changed with them."
" That is to say, that seeing King Charles ill, and the Duke
d'Anjou King of Poland, he would not be sorry to remain in
Paris to watch for the crown of France."
304
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" Precisely so."
" I agree with you. This is all as I wish it," continued
Henry. " Let him remain; that will not alter our plan; for I
should require, to go alone, thrice the guarantees I should have
asked had your brother accompanied me, whose name and pre-
sence in the enterprise would have been my safeguards. The
only thing that astonishes me is, not having any tidings of De
Mouy. Have you any intelligence of him, madame ?"
" I, sire !" said Marguerite, astonished. " How could I pos-
sibly "
" Eh, pardieu, ma ink ! nothing can be more natural. You
were so kind as to oblige me by saving young La Mole's life ;
he was sure to go to Mantes, and when there, it was no great
distance to return hither."
"Ah ! that gives me the solution to a riddle I have sought
for in vain," replied Marguerite. " I had left my window open,
and found on my return a, kind of note on the carpet."
" There, now !" said Henry.
" A note which at first I could not comprehend, and to which
I attached no importance," continued Marguerite. " Perhaps
I was wrong, and it comes from that quarter."
. « Very possibly," said Henry; " nay, most probably. Might
I see this note ?"
" Certainly, sire," replied Marguerite, handing to the king
the half sheet of paper which she had put in her pocket.
The king looked at it.
" Is not this," he inquired, " the writing of M. de la Mole ?"
" I do not know," was Marguerite's reply; " the letters appear
to me counterfeited."
" Never mind ; let us read." And he read :
" ' Madame,—I must speak to the King of Navarre." It is on
a most urgent matter. . I am waiting.'—Ah, do you see ?" said
Henry; " he says he is waiting !"
" Yes, I see he says so ; but what then ?"
" Why, ventre-saint-gris ! I wish him to come here."
" Come here !" exclaimed Marguerite, fixing on her husband
her beautiful eyes, full of amazement; " how can you say such
a thing, sire ? A man whom the king has sought to kill—who
is marked down, menaced. Let him come, do you say ! Is
that possible ? Were doors made for those who have been ?"
" Obliged to escape by the window, you would say."
" Precisely so."
MUTUAL CONFIDENCES.
305
"Well, but if they know the way by the window, they may
take that road again, since it is impossible for them to enter by
the door. That is simple enough, surely."
" Do you think so ?" said Marguerite, blushing with pleasure
at the thoughts of again having La Mole near her.
"Iam sure of it."
" But how can he ascend ?" inquired the queen.
" Did you not preserve the rope-ladder I sent you ?"
" Yes, sire," said Marguerite.
" Then the whole thing will be capitally managed. Fasten it
to your balcony, and let it hang. If it be De Mouy who awaits
—and I am induced to believe so—he will mount the ladder."
And without losing his gravity, Henry took the taper to light
Marguerite in her search for- the ladder. . The search was by no
means tedious; it was discovered in a cupboard in the cele-
brated closet.
" Here it is," said Henry. " And now, madame, if it is not
too much to ask of your complaisance, tie -it, I beg, to the
balcony."
" Why me and not you, sire ?" asked Marguerite.
" Because the best conspirators are the most prudent; the
sight of a man might alarm your correspondent—you under-
stand ?"
Marguerite smiled, and fastened the ladder.
"There," said Henry, ensconcing himself in the angle of the
apartment; " now show yourself—and now let the ladder be
dropped. Capital ! I am sure De Mouy will come up."
And in a few minutes afterwards, a man joyously placed his
leg over the balcony; but seeing that the queen did not approach
him, remained for some minutes in hesitation, and then Henry
advanced.
" Ah !" said he, urbanely, " it is not De Mouy; it is M. de la
Mole. Good evening, M. de la Mole. Enter, I entreat you."
La Mole was for a moment amazed. Perchance, had he still
been on the ladder, instead of having his feet firmly in the bal-
cony, he would have fallen backwards.
"You desired to speak to the King of Navarre on an urgent
affair," said Marguerite; " I have informed him so, and here
he is."
Henry went to the window, and closed it.
" I love thee!" whispered Marguerite, pressing the young
man's hand ardently.
20
306
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"Well, sir," said Henry, handing a chair to La Mole, " what
have we to say ?"
" We have to say, sire," he replied, " that I have left M. de
Mouy at the barrier. He desires to know if Maurevel has
spoken, and if his presence in your majesty's chamber is known."
"Not yet; but it must be before long. We must therefore
make haste."
"His opinion coincides with your majesty's, sire; and if to-
morrow, during the evening, M. d'Alengon is ready to depart,
De Mouy will be at the Porte Saint-Marcel with a hundred and
fifty men; five hundred will await you at Fontainebleau, and
then you will gain Blois, Angouleme, and Bordeaux."
" Madame," said Henry, turning to his wife, " to-morrow, I
shall be ready : shall you ?"
La Mole's eyes were fixed on Marguerite's with intense anxiety.
" You have my word," replied the queen. " Whithersoever
you go, I follow you ; but you know M. d'Alengon must go at
the same time. There is no middle path for him; he is with
us, or he betrays us; if he hesitates, we will not stir."
" Does he know anything of this proposed plan, M. de la
Mole?" inquired Henry.
" He had a letter from De Mouy several days since."
"Ah, ah!" said Henry, " and never told me a word of it."
" Be on your guard, sir—be on your guard," said Marguerite.
" Be easy; I am on my guard. But how to return an answer
to De Mouy?"
" Do not be under any anxiety, sire. To-morrow, on the right
hand or left hand of your majesty, visible or invisible, during
the reception of the ambassadors, he will be there; one word
in the queen's address will make him understand whether you
consent or not; whether he should flee, or await you. If the
Duke d'Alengon refuses, he only requires a delay of a fortnight
to reorganise everything in your name."
" Really," replied Henry, " De Mouy is an invaluable man.
Can you introduce a phrase or two in your discourse, madame?"
"Nothing easier," replied Marguerite.
" Well, then," said Henry, " I shall see M. d'Alengon to-
morrow ; Jet De Mouy be at his post, and understand from half
a word."
"He will be there, sire."
" Well, then, M. de la Mole, go and bear him my reply. You
have, doubtless, a horse and servant somewhere near at hand."
MUTUAL CONFIDENCES.
307
" Orthon awaits me on the quay."
"Go to him, comte. Oh, not by the window; that is very
well on extreme occasions; but you might be seen, and as it
would not be known that it was for me that you exposed your-
self, it would compromise the queen."
" But how then, sire ?"
" If you could not enter the Louvre alone, you can at least
go out of it with me who have the pass-word. You have your
cloak, I have mine; we will wrap ourselves up well, and shall
pass the wicket without difficulty. Wait here whilst I see if the
corridors are free."
Henry, with the most natural air in the world, went out to
examine if the way was clear. La Mole remained alone with
the queen.
" Oh, when shall we meet again ?" said La Mole.
" To-morrow evening, if we flee ; in the Rue Cloche-Percee,
if we do not flee."
"M. de la Mole," said Henry, returning, "you may come ;
there is no one there."
La Mole bowed respectfully before the queen.
" Give him your hand to kiss, madame," said Henry; " M. de
la Mole is no common servitor."
Marguerite obeyed.
" Apropos," added Henry. " Put away the rope-ladder care-
fully : it is a very precious instrument for conspirators, and at
the moment we least think of, it may stand in stead. Come, De
la Mole—come !*'
CHAPTER XLIII.
the ambassadors.
Next morning, the whole population of Paris poured towards
the Faubourg St.-Antoine, by which it was decided that the
Polish ambassadors should enter; a line of soldiers restrained
the crowd, and a regiment of horse escorted the nobles and
ladies of the court.
Soon appeared, close by the Abbey St.-Antoine, a troop of
cavaliers dressed in red and yellow, with furred mantles and
caps, and bearing large sabres curved like Turkish scimetars.
Behind this troop came a second, clothed with oriental magnifi-
20—2
3o8
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
cence. They preceded the ambassadors, who, four in number,
gorgeously sustained the reputation of their chivalrous country.
One of the ambassadors was the Bishop of Cracow; his
costume was half ecclesiastical, h^lf military, resplendent with
gold and jewels. Next the bishop rode the palatine Lasco, a
powerful noble, nearly related to the royal family, rich as a king,
and as proud. Behind these two principal ambassadors, who
were accompanied by two other palatines of high rank, came
a number of gentlemen, whose steeds, all glittering with gold
and precious stones, excited the clamorous admiration of the
populace.
Up to the last moment Catherine had hoped the reception
would be deferred in consequence of the king's illness. But
when the day arrived—when she savV Charles, pale as a spectre,
assume the royal robes, she saw she must, in appearance at
least, yield to his iron will, and began to believe that the safest
plan for Henry d'Anjou was to depart into the splendid exile to
which he was condemned.
The large reception chamber had been prepared, and as such
ceremonies were usually public, the guards and sentinels had
received orders to admit as many persons into the apartments
and courts as they could possibly contain.
As for Paris, it presented the same aspect that every great
city presents on similar occasions—that is, confusion and
curiosity; only, had any one attentively examined the population,
he would have remarked a considerable number of men in cloaks,
who exchanged glances and signs when at a distance, and, when
they met, a few rapid words in a low tone. They seemed much
occupied with the procession, and received their orders from an
old man, whose keen black eyes, spite of his long white beard
and eyebrows, bespoke a vigorous activity. This old man, by
his own and his followers' assistance, gained an entrance to the
Louvre, and, thanks to the officer of the Swiss guard, obtained
a place behind the ambassadors, and opposite Henry and
Marguerite.
Henry, informed by La Mole that De Mouyin some disguise
would be present, looked round on every side. At last his eyes
encountered those of the old man, and a sign from De Mouy
dissipated all doubt as to his identity ; for De Mouy was so per-
fectly disguised, that the King of Navarre was doubtful as to
whether this old man with a white beard could be the intrepid
Huguenot chief, who a few days before had made so desperate
a defence.
THE AMBASSADORS.
309
A word from Henry fixed Marguerite's attention on De Mouy.
Then her eyes wandered round the chamber in search of La
Mole. La Mole was not there.
The orations commenced. The first was to the king : Lasco,
in the name of the Diet of Poland, demanded his consent to the
Duke d'Anjou becoming their king.
The king's reply was brief and precise. He presented to them
the Duke d'Anjou, of whose courage he made a high eulogium.
He spoke in French, and an interpreter translated what he said
at the end of each sentence.
Whilst the interpreter was speaking, the king applied his
handkerchief continually to his mouth, and as often as he re-
moved it a stain of blood was visible.
When Charles had finished, Lasco turned to D'Anjou, and
offered him, in the name of the Diet, the throne of Poland.
Lasco's address was in Latin.
The duke replied, in the same language, and in a voice he
in vain strove to render firm, that he gratefully accepted the
honour offered to him. During all this time Charles, who re-
mained standing, with lips compressed, fixed his eyes on him,
like an eagle watching his prey.
When the duke had finished, Lasco took the crown of the
Jagellons from the velvet cushion on which it rested, and whilst
two Polish nobles placed the royal robes on the duke, deposited
the crown in Charles's hands.
Charles signed to his brother. D'Anjou knelt before him,
and, with his own hands, Charles placed the crown on his
head, and the two brothers interchanged a kiss full of bitter
hate.
A herald then cried : " Alexander Edward Henry of France,
Duke d'Anjou, is crowned King of Poland. God save the
King of Poland !"
All the assembly repeated: " God save the King of
Poland !"
Then LaSco turned to Marguerite. Her discourse had been
reserved till the last, and, as we have said, Marguerite had com-
posed it herself.
Lasco's address was rather a eulogy than an oration. He
had yielded, Sarmatian as he was, to his admiration of Mar-
guerite's beauty; and while his language was that of Ovid, his
style was that of Ronsard. His discourse was applauded by
everybody: by those who understood Latin, because they par-
MARGUERITE EE VAL01S.
took of his admiration; by those who did not understand it,
because they wished it to appear as though they did.
Marguerite, having made a gracious curtsey to the ambassador,
fixed her eyes on De Mouy, and began thus :
" Quod nunc hac in aula insperati adestis exultaremus ego
et rex conjux, nisi ideo immineret calamitas, scilicet non solum
fratris sed etiam amici orbitas."—("Your unlooked-for presence
in this court would overwhelm my husband and myself with joy,
did it not threaten us with a great misfortune; that is, not only
the loss of a brother, but also that of a friend.")
These words had a double meaning, and whilst intended for
De Mouy, were supposed to refer to the Duke d'Anjou. The
latter, accordingly, bowed in token of gratitude.
Charles did not recollect having read this sentence in Mar-
guerite's speech, when submitted to him some days before, but
he did not trouble himself much about that; and, besides, he
understood Latin very imperfectly.
Marguerite continued :
" Adeo dolemur a te dividi ut tecum proficisci maluissemus,
sed idem fatum quo nunc sine ulla mora Lutetia cedere juberis,
hac in urbe detinet. Proficiscere ergo, frater; proficiscere
amice ; proficiscere sine nobis ; proficiscentem, sequentur spes
et desideria nostra."—("We are grieved to be separated from
you, for we should have preferred going with you • but the same
fate that compels you to quit Paris without delay, retains us in
that city. Go, dear brother ; go, then, dear friend—go without
us. Our hopes and our wishes will follow you.")
It is easy to understand how attentively De Mouy had listened
to these words, which, though addressed to the Duke d'Anjou,
were meant for him alone. Whilst listening, Catherine was
struck with the black eyes so piercing beneath their grey pent-
houses.
" What a strange face !" thought she. "Who can this man be
who watches Marguerite so attentively, and whom Henry and
Marguerite, on their part, look at with such earnestness ?"
The Queen of Navarre continued, whilst Catherine strove in
vain to divine the name of this strange old man, when the master
of the ceremonies came behind her, and presented to her a little
satin bag; she opened it, and found a paper containing these
words : " Maurevel, by the aid of a cordial I have administered
to him, has, in some measure, recovered his strength, and has
written the name of the man in the King of Navarre's chamber.
This man was M. de Mouy."
THE AMBASSADORS.
" De Mouy," thought the queen, " I fancied it was he ; but
this old man—eh, cospetto /—this old man is "
She leaned towards the captain of her guards.
" Do you see," whispered she, " that old man with the white
beard, and in the black velvet dress, behind Lasco ?"
" He to whom the King of Navarre made a sign ?"
"Yes ; do not lose sight of him ; station yourself at the door
with ten men, and when he comes out, invite him, in the king's
name, to dinner; if he accept, conduct him to the chamber,
and keep him there ; if he resist, seize him, dead or alive.'
Fortunately, Henry had glanced at Catherine, and observing
her eyes fixed so earnestly on De Mouy, became uneasy ; when
he saw her give an order to the captain of the guard, he guessed
all. It was then he made the sign De Nancey had observed,
and which meant, "Save yourself—you are discovered !" But
Henry was not quite reassured until De Nancey returned, and
he saw by Catherine's face that the officer had been unsuc-
cessful.
The audience was finished. The king rose with difficulty,
saluted the ambassadors, and retired, leaning on Ambroise
Pare, who, since his accident, had not quitted him an instant.
The Duke d'Alenfjon had been a mere nobody throughout the
ceremony ; and Charles's eyes, which had been fixed on
D'Anjou, had not once been turned towards him.
The new King of Poland felt himself lost. Carried off by
those barbarians, far from his mother, he was, so to speak,
a second Antaeus, removed from the earth to which he owed
his strength. Instead of following the king, he retired to his
mother's apartments. On seeing her beloved son pale beneath
the crown, and bending beneath the royal mantle, Catherine
advanced towards him.
" Oh, mother !" cried the king, " I am condemned to die an
exile."
" My son," returned Catherine, " have you so soon forgotten
Rene's prediction ? Tranquillise yourself; you will not be
there long."
"Mother, I intreat you," said the Duke d'Anjou, " on the leas.t
probability of the crown of France being vacant, inform me."
" My son," replied the queen, " until the day we both of us
await, a horse shall be always saddled in my stable, and a courier
ever in my antechamber ready to set out for Poland."
312
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHAPTER XLIV.
orestes and pylades.
Henry d'Anjou once departed, peace and happiness seemed
to have returned to the Louvre. Charles, laying aside his
melancholy, resumed his usually fine and vigorous health, either
hunting each day with Henry, or, if prevented from following
that sport, passing the time in discussing subjects rela'ting to it,
and scolding his brother-in-law for the indifference he betrayed
for hawking, declaring that he would be the most accomplished
prince of his time, if he did but understand the management of
falcons, ger-falcons, hawks, and tiercelets, as perfectly as he did
brocks and hounds. Catherine had returned to all the duties
of a good mother. Kind and gentle towards Charles and
D'Alen^on—affectionate to Henry and Marguerite—gracious
to Madame de Nevers and Madame deSauve, she even carried
her amiability so far as to visit Maurevel twice during the time
he lay ill in his residence, situated Rue dela Cerisaie—alleging,
as a reason for this condescension on her part, that the unfor-
tunate object of her pity had been wounded while in the dis-
charge of orders received from herself. Marguerite followed
up her love affairs after the Italian mode of conducting such
matters. Each evening she stood at her open window, and,
both by writing and gestures, kept up a continual correspond-
ence with La Mole; while, in each of his letters, the impatient
young man reminded his lovely mistress of her promise to see
him in the Rue Cloche-Percde.
In a word, there remained but one lonely and discontented
person amidst the various members of" the now calm and tran-
quil Louvre.
It was certainly something to know that La Mole still lived
—much to be the object of decided preference to so charming
and capricious a person as Madame de Nevers; but the Pied-
montese would thankfully have surrendered all the tender meet-
ings granted him by the duchess, as well as all the consolatory
assurances of Marguerite touching the safety of their common
friend, for one hour's enjoyment of his dear La Mole's company.
Urged by the wishes of her own heart, as well as by the sup-
plications of La Mole, and the deep despair of the woe-begone
Coconnas, Marguerite had appointed to meet Henriette at the
house with the double entrance, and endeavour there to discuss,
ORESTES AND PYLADES.
3i3
fully and uninterruptedly, those subjects all four had so much
at heart.
Coconnas received Henriette's summons to be in the Rue
Tizon at half-past nine with a very ill grace. Nevertheless, he
was punctual to the assignation, where he found Henriette
already arrived, and not a little offended at being there first.
" Fie, monsieur !" cried she, as he entered, " is this well, to
make—I will not say a princess, but a lady—wait for you ?" ,
" Wait ?" replied Coconnas. I like that! I'll wager you
what you like, that we are before our time."
"I was here certainly before the time fixed."
"Well, and so was I, or, at least, I should have been, but
for a circumstance. What's o'clock now ? Scarcely ten, I
think."
" And my letter named half-past nine as the hour you were
to meet me here."
" For the purpose of being punctual, I quitted the Louvre at
nine o'clock to repair hither; but when I reached the corner of
the Rue de Grenelle, I perceived a person whom I mistook for
La Mole."
" Always something tedious about that La Mole!"
" Certainly, either with your leave or without it."
" Brute !"
" Upon my word," said Coconnas, "we seem bent upon paying
each other compliments to-night."
" You are really overpoweringly civil, it must be confessed ;
but go on with your story, if it must be so, and let me hear
what became of your meeting with the individual so like your
dear La Mole. But, stay ! for heaven's sake, how comes this
blood upon your doublet ?"
" Ah, that fellow must have sprinkled me when we were
fighting together."
" Have you, then, fought any one ?"
" To be sure I have."
" And still on La Mole's account."
" For whom do you think I should fight ? For a woman ?
No, no; I will tell you all about it I followed the person who
had dared to take upon himself to imitate the walk and manner
of my friend, and overtook him in the Rue Coquillibre. I
eyed him in every way, by the light from a shop window—well,
it was not my poor La Mole !"
" So far, so good !"
314
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Ay, but my unknown gentleman turned quite angry about
my following him ; and when I said, { Sir, you are an ass and
a fool to take upon yourself to bear a distant resemblance to
my friend M. de la Mole, who is an accomplished cavalier,
while it only requires a nearer view of you to perceive you are
only a vulgarian !' he drew his sword—I did the same; and
at the third pass, my angry gallant fell senseless at my feet,
sprinkling me with his blood in falling."
" And did you not afford him any succour ?"
" Just as I was about to do so, another cavalier, but mounted
on horseback, came by. Well, this time, duchess, I thought I
was quite sure of finding La Mole, for he resembled him even
more than the preceding—he was going a great pace, but that
did not deter me from running after him as hard as I could;
but I Was obliged to stop to get a little breath, and, in the
meantime, the horseman disappeared ; and, tired and dispirited
with having had so unsuccessful a chase, I determined to come
here !"
"Upon my word," said the duchess, "your conduct is most
flattering ! It is quite easy to perceive you no longer love me."
"On the contrary, duchess, I idolise you; but you do not
understand the thing. Is it not quite possible for me to love
and cherish and dote upon you, and yet employ my spare time
in eulogising my friend !"
" You call the moments passed with me spare time !"
" I can't help it: that poor De la Mole is for ever in my
thoughts !"
" And you prefer him to me ! I see, I know you do! Anni-
bal, I hate and detest you—there !—now I've said it. Why not
deal candidly with me, and tell me you prefer this friend to me
—only one thing I warn you—that if you dare to prefer any
creature in the world to me, I'll—I'll "
" Henriette, most lovely duchess ! let me advise you, for the
sake of your own tranquillity, not to ask unwise questions—be
satisfied that I love you, best of women; but you must also
permit me the privilege of loving La Mole above all other men."
"Well answered !" said a strange voice, suddenly, and a large
damask curtain being raised, discovered a panel, which, sliding
back into the wall, and forming a mode of communication
between the two apartments, discovered La Mole standing in
the doorway, like one of Titian's splendid paintings set in a
gilded frame.
ORESTES AND PYLADES.
" La Mole !" exclaimed Coconnas, without taking the slight-
est notice of Marguerite, or in any way thanking her for the
delightful surprise she had arranged for him ; " La Mole ! my
friend ! my dear, dear, friend !"
So saying, he threw himself into his friend's arms, knocking
over the table that stood in his way, as well as the arm-chair he
had been sitting in.
La Mole returned his greetings with equal warmth; then,
addressing the Duchess de Nevers : "You must pardon me,
madame, if the mention of my name has been allowed to dis-
turb your happiness ; all I can say," continued he, regarding
Marguerite with ineffable tenderness, " is, that it has not been
my fault that we have not seen each other before this."
"You see, Henriette," said Marguerite, taking up the conver-
sation, " I have kept my word ; here he is !"
Meanwhile, Coconnas, after having embraced his friend, and
walked round and round him a dozen times ; after even hold-
ing a candelabra to his face, the better to gaze on his beloved
features, suddenly turned towards Marguerite, and kneeling
down reverentially, kissed the hem of her robe.
"Well, well!" said the Duchess de Nevers, "you seem to
forget that I am present; I suppose I have grown quite unen-
durable in your eyes."
"Mordi!" replied Coconnas, "you are, as you ever have
been, the goddess of my idolatry: the only difference being,
that I can now tell you so with a lighter heart; and were a host
of savage nations standing by, I would insist and maintain that
all their hyperborean and barbarous countries together could
produce nothing so perfect, so lovely, as you, my queen of
beauty."
" Gently, gently, Coconnas," interposed La Mole; " do you
forget that Madame Marguerite is here ?"
" That makes no difference," answered Coconnas, with that
half-serious, half-comic air and manner so peculiarly his own;
"I will still assert that Madame Henriette is the queen of beauty,
while Madame Marguerite is a beauty of a queen !"
" Come, then, my beautiful queen !" said Madame de Nevers,
perceiving that Coconnas had neither eyes nor ears for any one
but La Mole, " let us leave these tender friends to have an hour's
chat together. M. Coconnas will perhaps be a little more
rational after that."
Marguerite whispered a few words to La Mole, and then,
316
MARGUERITE DE VA LOIS.
with Madame de Nevers, passed through the open panel to the
next room, where supper was awaiting them.
The two young men were then left alone.
The first questions asked by Coconnas were touching that
fatal evening, which had well nigh cost him his life. In pro-
portion as La Mole proceeded in his narration, the Piedmontese
shook with intense emotion.
" And why ?" inquired he, " instead of running about half
wild as you have done, and causing me the uneasiness you have
done, did you not seek refuge with our master the duke, who
would have received and protected you ?"
" Do you mean the Duke d'Alengon ?" whispered La Mole,
" when you say our master ? 'Tis to the King of Navarre I owe
my life."
" Excellent, noble king ! but what part did the Duke d'Alen-
qon play in the affair ?"
" Oh, he held the cord with which I was to be strangled."
" Mordi P' exclaimed Coconnas, springing up with violent
energy; " are you sure of that ? What! a pale-faced, sickly-
looking prince, a currish mongrel, dare to lay his hands on my
friend!—Strangle him, indeed ! ha ha ! mordi! by to-morrow
he shall hear my opinion on the subject."
"Are you mad, Coconnas? For Heaven's sake, calm your-
self, and endeavour to recollect that it is half-past eleven o'clock,
and that you are in waiting to-night at the Louvre."
" What care I for that ? Good ! he may wait long ere he has
my attendance; What, do you suppose I will ever again serve
a man who has held a cord to murder my friend with ? You
are jesting ! No, no, the hand of Providence has reunited us,
and from you I go no more. If you stay here, I remain also."
"For the love of Heaven, Coconnas, mind what you are
about. You are sober, I trust?"
" Luckily I am, or I should most certainly set the Louvre on
fire."
" Come, come, Annibal," persisted La Mole, "act like a
reasonable being; return to your duties, or inform the duke that
you quit his service."
"To be sure, to be sure; that is quite the right thing, and I
will do it. I'll write him a few lines directly."
" Write, Coconnas ! you make light work of writing to a
prince of the blood."
"Ah, but whose blood—that of my friend? Have a care !"
ORESTES AND PYLADES.
317
exclaimed Coconnas, rolling his large fierce-looking eyes; " I
may yet be tempted to-break through etiquette beyond the mere
sending of a written notice to quit his service."
So saying, Coconnas took the pen without further opposition
from his friend, and hastily composed the following specimen of
epistolary eloquence :
"My Lord,—There can be no doubt but that a person versed
as is your highness in the writings of all authors of classical
antiquity, must be perfectly well acquainted with the touching
story of Orestes and Pylades, two heroes celebrated alike for
their misfortunes and deep friendship. My friend La Mole is
equally unfortunate as was Orestes, while I can boast of the
same devoted attachment as that which possessed Pylades.
Affairs of the utmost importance to him demand my aid and
assistance at - this particular moment, and render it quite im-
possible for me to quit him. I am therefore compelled (craving
your highness's pardon for the same) to take a holiday, for the
purpose of remaining with the dear friend I mean to part from
no more, but to follow his fortune whithersoever it may lead me.
" I beg your highness to believe the deep sorrow it causes me
to withdraw myself from your service, as also the deep respect
with which I subscribe myself, my lord,
"Your highness's
" Most humble and obedient servant,
" Annibal, Comte de Coconnas,
" And the inseparable friend of M. de la Mole."
This chef-d'oeuvre terminated, Coconnas read it aloud to La
Mole, who merely shrugged his shoulders,
" Well, what do you think of it ?" inquired Coconnas, who
either had not seen his friend's gesture, or feigned not to have
done so.
" Why, I say that M. d'Alengon will laugh at us both, as a
pair of simpletons."
" Better do that than strangle us. Now, then, I will speak
to our host to get my letter despatched to the Louvre."
At this moment the panel was slid back.
" Well," inquired both princesses in the same breath ; " and
how are Pylades and Orestes, by this time ?"
" Mordi! madame !" replied Coconnas, " they are both dying
with love and hunger,"
318
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
It was Maitre la Huri^re himself, who, at nine o'clock the
following morning, carried to the Louvre the respectful missive
of Comte Annibal de Coconnas.
CHAPTER XLV.
orthon.
Henry of Navarre, after the refusal of the Duke d'Alengon,
which left everything undecided and in peril, even his very ex-
istence, had become, if possible, more intimate with the prince
than he had been before : from which circumstance Catherine
concluded that not only did the two princes understand each
other perfectly well, but also that they were engaged in some
mutual plot or conspiracy.
She questioned Marguerite on the subject, but Marguerite was
worthy of her mother; and so skilfully did the Queen of Navarre
parry her mother's inquisitorial inquiries, that although replying
with apparent openness and candour to each, she contrived to
throw a still greater mystery over the affair than it was before in-
volved in.
The Florentine had thus no guide through the labyrinth of her
thoughts but the spirit of intrigue she had brought with her from
Tuscany; and the first conclusion she came to was, that as the
hated Bearnais derived the principal part of his strength from his
alliance with the Duke d'Alengon, it would be expedient to
separate them as speedily as possible.
From the instant in which she formed this resolution, Catherine
continued to beset her son with a patience and ability worthy of
the most indefatigable angler, who, having dropped his bait near
the prey he desires to secure, insensibly draws it ashore, till his
victim is unconsciously lured into his power.
Duke Frangois was conscious of the increased affection shown
him by his mother, whose advances he received with every mani-
festation of pleasure. As for Henry, he affected to know nothing
of what was going on, but he kept a more watchful eye on his
ally than he had hitherto done.
Everybody seemed to await some great event by which to
shape their course. During this state of things it was, that one
fine summer day, when the sun had risen with even more than
wonted splendour, and the rich balmy air was filled with the
ORTHON.
319
odour of a thousand flowers, a pale and sickly looking man came
forth from a small house situated behind the Arsenal, and feebly
dragged his way, supporting himself by a staff, towards the Rue
de Petit-Musc.
Having reached the Porte St.-Antoine, he diverged from the
Boulevard and entered the Archery Garden; the man who kept
the gate receiving him with every demonstration of respect.
No person was in the garden, which (as its name expressed,
belonged to a society called the Toxophilites), but had there
been ever so many spectators, the pale stranger would have well
merited their commiseration and sympathy; for his long mous-
tache and military air and step, though somewhat weakened by
sickness and suffering, sufficiently indicated that he was some
officer recently wounded, and now seeking to regain his strength
by essaying to take exercise in the open air. Yet strange to say,
when the cloak with which (spite of the increasing warmth) the
apparently harmless visitant was clad flew open, it displayed a pair
of long pistols hanging to the silver clasps of his belt, which also
sustained a dagger and a sword of colossal size, the latter of
which hung heavily at his side, and, with its ponderous sheath,
clattered against his shrunken and trembling legs.
Arrived in the garden, the individual selected for his resting-
place a sort of small covered arbour looking on to the Boulevards,
from which it was only separated by a thick hedge and by
a small ditch, which formed as it were a second enclosure. Ex-
tending his weary limbs on a turfy bank, within reach of a table,
he beckoned the porter, who, in addition to the duties of con-
cierge, exercised also the vocation of a vintner, and saying a few
words, was quickly supplied with what- appeared to be a species
of cordial.
The invalid had been about ten minutes in his shady retreat,
slowly discussing the draught brought to him by the concierge,
when suddenly his countenance, spite of its interesting pallor,
assumed a fearful expression. He had just detected the ap-
proach of a cavalier, who, turning quickly round the corner of
a street, advanced, wrapped in a large cloak, and stopped just
before his eyes. Scarcely had the pale stranger in the arbour
(who was no other than Maurevel) a little recovered from the
agitation occasioned by the unexpected presence of the cavalier,
than he observed that the latter was joined by a second person,
dressed in the garb of a page.
Concealed beneath his leafy bower, Maurevel could see and
32°
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
hear all that passed in a conversation, the importance of which
may be imagined, when it is known that the cavalier in the
cloak was De Mouy, and the young man Orthon the page.
Both looked carefully around them, while Maurevel held
his breath, lest a sound should escape him.
"You may speak now in safety," said the younger and more
confident of the two; "we are quite secure here • none can
either see or hear us."
"'Tis well!" answered De Mouy. "Now attend! you are
to go to Madame de Sauve's, and should she be at home, give
this into her own hands; but if she be not in her apartments,
then place the letter where the king is accustomed to deposit
his—behind the mirror. Wait at the Louvre; and if any
reply is sent, bring it, you know where. Should you not be
charged with an answer, then meet me to-night, with a pe-
tronel, at the spot I pointed out to you, and which I have
just left."
" Enough !" said Orthon ; " I understand."
" I must now leave you," continued De Mouy: " I have
much to do during the day. It will be useless for you to go to
the Louvre till he is there; and I have every reason to believe
he will be engaged all day studying hawking; so be gone, my
boy, and execute your bidding: fear not to show yourself at the
Louvre ; you can say that, being now quite recovered, you come
to thank Madame de Sauve for the kind care she took of you
during your illness."
Maurevel, with fixed gaze, continued to listen till the per-
spiration gathered in large drops on his forehead. His first im-
pulse had been to detach one of the pistols from his belt, and
take deadly aim at De Mouy, but at that instant the sudden
opening of the latter's cloak displayed a cuirass firm and solid
enough to resist all such futile attempts.
Then, again, he reflected, that merely separated by so slight a
barrier, one spring would bring De Mouy on him; and what
chance could a poor wounded, enfeebled being like himself
have with so powerful an assailant ?—with a sigh, therefore, he
drew back the weapon, mentally exclaiming :
" How unfortunate that I cannot stretch him dead on the spot,
without any other witness than that young varlet, who would have
served as a capital mark for my second pistol!"
Then, on the other hand, it occurred to him that the billet
sent by the page to Madame de Sauve might probably be bettet
worth taking than the life of the Huguenot chief.
ORThOK.
321
" Well," said he, " be it so, then : you escape me this morning,
but to-morrow I will settle all scores with you, if I pursue you to
that hell from which you have sprung to ruin me, unless I first
destroy you /"
At this instant, De Mouy, folding his cloak around him, and
concealing his features in its large folds, departed in the direction
of the Temple, while Orthon took the road that conducted to the
banks of the river.
Then Maurevel, rising with more of energy and vigour than
he had ventured to reckon on, regained the Rue de la Cerisaie,
caused a horse to be saddled, and, weak as he was, and at the
risk of again opening his newly-closed wounds, he set off at full
gallop towards the Rue Saint-Antoine, reached the quays, and
darted into the Louvre.
Five minutes after he had passed the wicket, Catherine was
in full possession of all that had transpired, and Maurevel had re-
ceived the thousand golden crowns promised him for the arrest
of the King of Navarre.
"Yes—yes !"exclaimed Catherine, exultingly, "either I am
much deceived, or De Mouy will turn out the black spot dis-
covered by Rene in the horoscope of this detested Bearnais."
A quarter of an hour after De Maurevel, Orthon reached the
Louvre, and having fearlessly shown himself, as directed by De
Mouy, proceeded, unmolested, to the apartments of Madame de
Sauve, where he found only Dariole, who informed him that her
lady was occupied, by the queen's orders, in transcribing letters
for her majesty, who had summoned her for that purpose within
the last five minutes.
" It does not signify," replied Orthon; " I can wait," Then,
profiting by the freedom he had always been permitted to ob-
serve, he went into the adjoining chamber, which was the sleep-
ing-room of the baroness, and after assuring himself that he was
unobserved, carefully deposited the billet behind the looking-
glass. Just as he was withdrawing his hand from the mirror,
Catherine entered the room. Orthon changed colour, for he
fancied the quick, searching glance of the queen-mother was
first directed to the glass.
" What are you doing here, my little fellow ?" asked Catherine;
" seeking for Madame de Sauve, I suppose ?"
"Yes, indeed, your majesty; it is a long time since I saw her,
and if I delay returning her my grateful thanks, I fear she will
think me ungrateful."
21
322
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" You love Madame de Sauve, then, very much, do you
not ?"
" Oh, that I do, with all my heart! I can never forget the
kindness Madame de Sauve condescended to bestow on a humble
servitor like myself."
" And upon what occasion was it that she showed you all this
care and attention ?" inquired Catherine, feigning to be ignorant
of what had befallen the youth.
"When I was wounded, madame, the night that they tried
to arrest the King of Navarre. I was so terrified at the sight
of the soldiers, that I called out for help, upon which one of
them gave me a blow on the head, and I fell senseless to the
ground."
" Poor child ! and you are now quite recovered ?"
" Oh, quite, madame !"
" And that being the case," continued Catherine, " I sup-
pose you are trying to get back into the service of the King of
Navarre ?"
"No, indeed, madame; when the King of Navarre learned
that I had presumed to resist your majesty's orders, he dismissed
me in heavy displeasure."
" Really!" said Catherine, with a tone expressive of the deepest
interest. " Well, I will take the arrangement of that affair into
my own hands; but if you are looking for Madame de Sauve,
you will do so in vain; she is at this moment busily occupied
in my apartments, and likely to be detained much longer over
her employment."
Then, thinking that Orthon might not have had time to place
his billet behind the glass previous to her entrance, she returned
to the adjoining chamber, in order to afford the requisite oppor-
tunity for his so doing.
But just as Orthon, uneasy at the unexpected arrival of the
queen-mother, was asking himself whether the circumstance
did not in some way forebode evil to his master, he heard three
gentle taps against the ceiling, the very signal he was in the habit
of using to warn his master of the approach of danger during his
visits to Madame de Sauve. He started at the sound: a sudden
light seemed to break in upon his mind, and he appropriated
the warning to himself—danger was near, doubtless; and hastily
springing towards the mirror, he withdrew the paper he had pre-
viously placed there.
Through a rent in the tapestried hangings, Catherine watched
ORTHON.
323
every movement of the youth; she saw him dart forwards to the
mirror, but whether to take away or to conceal the coveted paper,
she could not detect. Returning to the apartment, with a smil-
ing countenance, she said :
"What, here still, my little man ? What can you be waiting
for ?—did I not promise to take charge of your future prospects?
Do you doubt my word ?"
" Heavenforfend, madame '."repliedOrthon, bowing low; then
kneeling before the queen, he kissed the hem of her robe, and
hastily quitted the room. As he went out, he observed the cap-
tain of the guards, waiting the orders of Catherine, in the ante-
chamber. This was far from calming his apprehensions; on
the contrary, it increased the vague terror under which he
already laboured.
Immediately the folds of the massy curtain which hung before
the door had closed on the form of Orthon, Catherine darted
into the chamber, where she expected to find the so-ardently-
desired billet; but vainly did she thrust her eager hand behind
the mirror; no paper of any kind was there. Again she
shook the solid frame, tapped against the glass, looked diligently
around, to see if aught had fallen. All her impatient research
availed not—no letter could she find. Yet her eyes had not de-
ceived her : she had distinctly seen the youth approach the
mirror; but doubtless the action she witnessed was to repossess
himself of his deposit—not to place his billet.
"Unhappy boy !" cried she; "what evil destiny urged you
thus to attempt to measure strength with me. I had rather
not have been your enemy, as I now must be. Ho ! there, M.
de Nancey !"
The sonorous voice of the queen traversed the salon, and
penetrated even to the ante-room, where M. de Nancey awaited
her orders.
At the sound of his name, thus pronounced, the captain of
the guards lost not an instant in obeying the summons.
" What is your majesty's pleasure ?" said he, on entering.
" Did you but now observe a youth—nay, a mere child—go
hence ?" " 1 did, madame."
" Call him back."
" By what name shall I address him ?"
" By that of Orthon. Should he refuse to return, bring him
back by force, but do not alarm him, if he comes unresistingly.
I must speak with him directly."
324
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
The captain of the guards rushed out to obey the queen.
Orthon had scarcely got half way downstairs, when he heard
himself called, and a cold shudder seized him, for he guessed
who had sent for him.
His first impulse was to fly, but with an accuracy of judgment
above his years, he quickly perceived that flight would be certain
ruin. He therefore stopped, and inquired :
" Who calls me ?"
" I do—M. de Nancey," replied the captain of the guards,
hurriedly descending the stairs.
" But I am in a very great hurry, and cannot stay," replied
Orthon.
" By order of her majesty the queen-mother, I command you
to accompany me back."
The terrified boy wiped the perspiration from his brow,
and followed M. de Nancey back to the apartments of Madame
de Sauve.
As Orthon entered the apartment where the queen-mother
awaited, he trembled, and a deathly paleness came over him.
The poor boy was as yet too young to exercise a more prac-
tised control over himself. "Your majesty," said he, with a
palpitating heart, " has done me the honour to recall me—may
I presume to inquire for what purpose ?"
" Child !" answered Catherine, with a bright and encouraging
smile, " your countenance pleases me, and having promised
to interest myself in your welfare, I am desirous of so doing
without any delay; but first tell me, are you able to ride
well?"
" Oh, yes, madame !"
" 'Tis well; then come to me in my closet, and I will give
you a message to carry to St.-Germains."
"I am at your majesty's commands."
"Then order a horse to be prepared, M. de Nancey."
The captain of the guards disappeared on his errand.
"Now then, boy !" said Catherine, leading the way and sign-
ing for Orthon to follow her.
The queen-mother descended a floor, then entered the cor
ridor in which were situated the apartments of the Duke
d'Alen§on and the king, reached the winding staircase, again
descended a flight of stairs, and opened a door leading to a
circular gallery, of which none but the king and herself pos-
sessed the key, made Orthon pass first; then, entering after
ORTHON.
325
him, carefully locked the door. This gallery formed a sort of
rampart round a portion of the apartments occupied by the
king and queen-mother, and resembled the corridor of the
Castle of St. Angelo, at Rome, or that of the Pitti Palace at
Florence, destined to serve as a place of refuge in case of
danger.
The door secured, Catherine and her companion found them-
selves enclosed in a dark corridor. Each advanced a few steps ;
the queen leading the way and the page following, when suddenly
Catherine turned round, and Orthon perceived on her counte-
nance the same gloomy expression it had worn a few minutes pre-
viously. Her eyes, of the shape and colour of the cat or
panther, seemed to dart forth sparks of fire.
" Stop !" cried she.
Poor Orthon felt a cold shiver pervade his frame, while the
damp, chill air of that unfrequented spot seemed to cling around
him like an icy mantle. The ground he trod upon seemed to re-
echo the dull moaning of a tomb. All this, combined- with the
fierce, penetrating look of Catherine, and his own uneasy fears,
proved too much for the page, who sunk nearly paralysed against
the walls of this fearful spot.
"Where," said the queen-mother, fixing on him her sharp,
intimidating glance, " is the billet you were desired to give to the
King of Navarre ?"
" The billet ?" stammered Orthon.
" Ay, the billet—which, in the event of not finding the king,
you were instructed to place behind the mirror."
" Indeed, madame," said Orthon, " I know not what your
majesty alludes to."
" Nay, I but ask for the billet given you by M. de Mouy,
about an hour since, behind the Archery Garden."
" Your majesty is wholly mistaken or misinformed," answered
Orthon; " I have no billet of any kind."
" 'Tis false !" said Catherine. " Give me that letter, and I
will perform the promise I have made you."
" Indeed, indeed, madame, I have no billet to give up."
Catherine began to lose all patience. She ground her teeth with
rage; then suddenly checking herself, and assuming a bland
smile, she said:
" Come, come, foolish boy, surrender that useless paper, and a
thousand golden crowns shall be your reward."
" But how can I give you what I do not possess ? Please
326
MARGUERITE EE VAL01S.
your majesty to credit me; I have no such billet in my keep-
ing."
" You shall have two thousand crowns !"
"Nay, gracious madame, since I have nothing to give, I can-
not give it."
" Say ten thousand crowns !"
Orthon, who, young as he was, could plainly perceive the rising
anger of the queen, decided that the only chance remaining of
preserving his master's secret was to swallow the disputed billet.
With this design, he attempted to take it from his pocket, but
the quick eye of Catherine divined his intention and stayed his
purpose.
" There, there, my child !" said she, laughing, " that will do.
Your fidelity, it seems, is above all temptation. Well—when
royalty would secure to itself a faithful follower, it is requisite
to try the devotedness of the heart it would attach. I now
know what opinion to form of your zeal and faithfulness. Take
this purse, in earnest of my future bounty, and carry the billet
to your master, with an intimation that, after to-day, I take
you into my service. You may now depart: you can let your-
self out by the door we entered at—it opens from within."
So saying, Catherine placed a heavily-filled purse in the hands
of the astonished youth, and then walked on a few steps, placing
her hand against the wall.
" Thanks, gracious madame!" murmured Orthon. "Then you
are good enough to pardon me all I have done to displease you?"
"Nay, more; I reward you as a faithful bearer of billets-
doux—a pleasing messenger of love! One only fault I find
with you; you forget that your master is waiting for you."
" True !" said the youth, springing towards the door.
But scarcely had he advanced two or three steps, than the
ground gave way beneath his feet. He stumbled, extended his
hands, with a fearful cry, and disappeared in one of those
horrible oubliettes of the Louvre of which Catherine had just
touched the spring.
" Now, then," said Catherine, " thanks to this fool's obstinacy,
I shall have nearly two hundred stairs to descend !"
The Florentine then returned to her apartments, from whence
she took a dark lantern; then returning to the gallery, closed
the spring, and opened the door of a spiral staircase, which
seemed as though contrived to penetrate into the very bowels
of the earth. Proceeding along the windings of this descent,
ORTHON.
327
she reached a second door, which, revolving on its hinges, ad-
mitted .to the depths of the oubliette, where—crushed, bleed-
ing, and mutilated, by a fall of more than one hundred feet—■
lay the still palpitating form of poor Orthon; while, on the
other side of the wall forming the barrier of this dreadful spot,
the waters of the Seine were heard to ripple by, brought by a
species of subterraneous filtration to the foot of the staircase.
Having reached the damp and unwholesome abyss, which
during her reign had witnessed numerous similar scenes to that
now enacted, Catherine proceeded to search the corpse, eagerly
drew forth the desired billet, ascertained by the lantern that it
was the one she sought, then pushing the mangled body from
her, she pressed a spring, the bottom of the oubliette sank
down, and the corpse, borne by its own weight, disappeared to-
wards the river.
Closing the door after her, she re-ascended; and returning
to her closet, read the paper poor Orthon had so valiantly de-
fended. It was conceived in these words :
" This evening at ten o'clock, Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, Hotel de
la belle Etoile. Should you come, no reply is requisite; if
otherwise, send word back, Ho, by the bearer.
"De Mouy de Saint-Phale."
As Catherine read these words, a smile of triumph curled
her lip. She thought only of the victory she had gained, with-
out once considering the price she had purchased it at.
And after all, what was Orthon ? Merely a faithful, devoted
follower ; a young, a handsome, and noble-minded youth. No-
thing more !
The billet read, Catherine immediately returned to the apart-
ments of Madame de Sauve, and placed it behind the mirror.
As she returned, she found the captain of the guards in the
corridor, awaiting her further commands.
" Madame," said M. de Nancey, " according to your majesty's
orders, the horse has been duly prepared."
" Ah, indeed !" said Catherine. " But we shall not need the
horse you have prepared. Upon questioning the youth, I find
he is not sufficiently intelligent to be entrusted with the message
I designed to send by him. I have therefore made him a little
present, and dismissed him by the small side-wicket."
"But," persisted M. de Nancey, "your majesty's commis-
sion ?"
328
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" What commission ?" asked Catherine.
" That which your majesty proposed accomplishing by means
of this youth. Will it please you that I go myself, or send one
of my men to do your royal command ?•"
"No," said Catherine; "both you and your men; M. de
Nancey, will have other work this evening."
And Catherine returned to her apartments, in full hope and
expectation of holding the detested King of Navarre in her
power ere the morrow's sun had risen.
CHAPTER XLVI.
the hostelry of " la belle etoile."
Two hours after the event we have described, Madame de
Sauve, having completed her attendance on the queen, entered
her apartments; Henry followed her; and Dariole having in-
formed him that Orthon had been, he went to the glass, and
took the billet.
It was, as we have seen, couched in these terms :
" This evening at ten o'clock, Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, Hotel de
la Belle Etoile. Should you come, no reply is requisite; if
otherwise, send word back, No, by the bearer.
" De Mouy de Saint-Phale."
There was no address upon it.
" Henry is certain to go," had thought Catherine ; " for even
did he not wish it, he cannot find the bearer to tell him so."
Catherine was right; Henry inquired after Orthon. Dariole
told him he had gone out with the queen-mother ; but Henry
felt no uneasiness, as he knew Orthon was incapable of betray-
ing him.
He dined, as he was accustomed, at the king's table, who
rallied him upon the mistakes he had made that morning in
hawking. Henry excused himself, alleging he dwelt on the
mountains, and not in the plains; but he promised Charles to
learn the noble art better.
Catherine was in "an excellent humour ; and when she rose
from table, requested Marguerite to pass the evening with her.
At eight o'clock, Henry took two of his gentlemen, went out
by the Porte St.-Honore, entered again by the Tour de Bois,
crossed the Seine at the ferry of the Nesle, mounted the
THE HOSTELRY OF 11 LA BELLE ETOILET 329
Rue Saint-Jacques, and there dismissed them, as if he were
going to an amorous rendezvous. At the corner of the Rue
des Mathurins he found a man on horseback, wrapped in a large
cloak : he approached him.
" Mantes 1" said the man.
"Paul" replied the king.
The horseman instantly dismounted. Henry wrapped him-
self in his splashed mantle, sprang on his steed, rode down the
Rue de la Harpe, crossed the Pont St. Michel, passed the Rue
Barthelemy, crossed the river again on the Pont au Meunier,
descended the quays, reached the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, and
knocked at Maitre la Huriere's.
La Mole was in a little chamber, writing a long love-letter ;
to whom may be easily imagined.
Coconnas was in the kitchen, watching half a dozen partridges
roasting, and disputing with La Huriere as to whether they were
done or not.
At this moment Henry knocked, Gregory went to take his
horse, and the traveller entered, stamping on the floor as if to
warm his feet.
" Eh !" said La Mole, continuing to write ; " La Huriere, here
is a gentleman wants you."
La Huriere advanced, and looked at Henry; and ashislarge
cloak did not inspire him with very great veneration :
" Who are you ?" asked he.
" Eh, sang Dien /" returned Henry, pointing to La Mole. " I
am, as the gentleman told you, a Gascon gentleman come to
court."
" What do you want ?"
" A room and supper."
" I do not let a room to any one, unless he has a lackey."
" Oh, but I will pay you a rose noble for your room and
supper."
"You are very generous, worthy sir," said La Huriere, with
some distrust.
1 " No j but expecting to sup here, I invited a friend of mine
to meet_me. Have you any good wine of Artois ?"
" I have as good as Henry of Navarre drinks."
" Ah, good ! Here is my friend."
As he spoke, the door opened, and a gentleman somewhat
older than the first, and having a long rapier at his side,
entered.
33°
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Ah, ah," said he, " you are exact, my young friend. It is
something for a man who has travelled two hundred leagues to
be so punctual."
" Is this your guest ?" asked La Huriere.
" Yes," replied the first, shaking hands with the young man
with the rapier.
" Maitre," said La Mole to La Huriere, " free us from these
Huguenot fellows; Coconnas and I cannot converse together
whilst they are there."
" Carry the supper into No. 2, on the third floor," said La
Huriere. " Upstairs, gentlemen."
The two travellers followed Gregoire, who lighted them.
Coconnas watched them until they disappeared, and then
came close to La Mole.
" Did you see them ?"
" Ay, truly."
"And who are they ?"
" How should I know ?"
" I'd swear they are Henry of Navarre, and the man in the
scarlet mantle."
" Ay, perhaps so."
" Well, you may rely on it, there is some plot going on."
" Oh, no ; some love intrigue."
" Bah ! no such thing. However, I do not belong to the
Duke d'Alengon now—so I care not. Let's go to supper."
Meantime Henry and De Mouy were installed in their
chamber.
"Well, sire," said De Mouy, "have you seen Orthon?"
" No ; but I found his billet. I suppose he was frightened,
for the queen saw him. I had some fear about him ; for Da-
riole told me the queen had a long conversation with him."
" Oh, there is no danger; he is very quick-witted. I will
venture to say the queen did not learn much from him."
" Have you seen him yourself?"
" No; but he will come this evening to fetch me, armed
with a good petronel; and he can tell us what passed as we
walk along."
" That is right; besides, La Mole is on the watch downstairs,
and should anything occur, he will give us notice."
" Well! what says M. d'Alen^n ?"
" He will not go ; he says so distinctly. The departure of
D'Anjou, and the king's illness, have made him alter his mind."
THE HOSTELRY OF "LA BELLE ETOILER 331
" It is he who has spoilt our plan ?" " Yes."
" It was he betrayed us ?"
" No ; but he is ready to do so on the first opportunity."
" Coward ! traitor !—why did he not answer my letters ?"
" In order to have proofs against you, and that you should
have none against him. Meantime, all is then lost; is it not so,
De Mouy ?"
" On the contrary, won : you know all the party, except De
Conde's fraction, were for you, and only used D'Alengon as a
safeguard. Since the day of the ceremony I have arranged
everything. I shall have fifteen hundred horse ready in a
week; they will be posted on the road to Pau ; they will surely
suffice?"
Henry smiled, and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder.
" De Mouy," said he, " you, and you alone, know the King of
Navarre is not such a coward as men think."
"I know it, sire; and I trust ere long all France will know it
too. When do you hunt again ?"
" In a week or ten days."
"Well, everything seems quiet now. No one thinks of the
Duke d'Anjou ; the king gets better everyday; the persecution
against us has ceased. Play the amiable with the queen-mother
and M. d'Alengon; tell the duke you cannot go without him,
and try and make him believe you."
" Oh, he shall believe me !"
" Has he such confidence in you ?"
" Not in me, but in the queen."
" And is the queen true to us ?"
" I have ample proofs of it; besides, she is ambitious."
" Well, three days before you hunt, tell me where it will be
—at Bondy, at St. Germain's, or at Rambouillet. When you
see La Mole, spur on—follow him; once out of the forest,
they must have fleet steeds to overtake us."
" Agreed."
" Have you money, sire ?"
Henry made the same grimace he made all his life at the
same question.
" Not much," said he; " but I believe Margot has."
" Well, bring all you can with you. Orthon tells me he saw
that scoundrel Maurevel, whom Rene has cured, walking about
the Arsenal."
" Ah, I understand."
332
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" You will be king some day, and will avenge yourself as a
king ; I am a soldier, and avenge myself as one. When all my
affairs are arranged, which will be in five or six days, I will
walk round the Arsenal myself, and after giving him two or
three rapier thrusts, I shall quit Paris."
" Do as you will. Ah ! what do you think of La Mole ?"
" A charming fellow—brave and faithful."
"And discreet; he must follow[us, and then I must think of
his reward."
As Henry pronounced these words, the door flew open, and
La Mole rushed in.
" Quick ! quick !" cried he, " the house is surrounded."
" Surrounded !" said Henry, " by whom ?"
" By the king's guards."
" Oh," said De Mouy, drawing two pistols from his belt
" battle, then !"
" What can you do against fifty men ?" said La Mole.
" He is right," said the king, " and if there were any means
of retreat "
"I know one," said La Mole, "if your majesty will follow
me." " And De Mouy "
" Can follow us ; but you must be quick."
Steps were heard on the stairs.
"It is too late," said Henry.
" If you could occupy them five minutes," said La Mole, "I
could save the king."
" I will occupy them," said De Mouy.
"But what will you do ?"
" Oh, do not fear for me !"
And De Mouy rapidly concealed the king's plate, goblet, and
napkin, so that it might seem he had supped alone.
" Come, sire—come !" cried La Mole.
" My brave De Mouy," said Henry.
De Mouy seized his hand, kissed it, pushed the door to the
instant they were outside, and bolted it.
" Quick—quick, sire I" said La Mole, " they are on the
stairs !"
At this moment, the torches were visible on the stairs, and
the rattling of arms was heard.
La Mole guided the king in the darkness, and conducting
him two stories higher, opened a door, which he then secured,
and opening the window :
THE HOSTELRY OF "LA BELLE ETOILE."
333
" Does your majesty fear an excursion on the roofs ?" said he.
" I, a chamois hunter !"
" Follow me, and I will guide you."
And, getting out of the window, La Mole clambered along
the ridge, then passed along a gulley formed by two roofs, at
the end of which was the open window of a garret.
" Here we are," said La Mole.
" So much the better," returned Henry, wiping the perspira-
tion from his brow.
"Now, then," continued La Mole, "this garret communi-
cates with a staircase, and the staircase with the street. I
travelled the road on a more terrible night than this."
" Go on—go on !"
La Mole sprang into the open window, opened the door,
and placing the cord that served as a baluster in Henry's hand:
" Come, sire," said he.
Henry had stopped before a window opposite the Belle
Etoile; the stairs were crowded with armed soldiers, bearing
torches. Suddenly, the king saw a group descend the stairs,
with De Mouy in the midst; he had surrendered his sword, and
walked quietly on.
" Brave De Mouy !" said the king.
"Ma foi! sire, he seems very composed, and even laughs;
he meditates some plan, for he seldom smiles."
" All is well, then," replied Henry. " Let us regain the
Louvre."
" Nothing easier; wrap yourself in your mantle, for the street
is full of people, and we shall pass for spectators."
They both gained the Rue d'Averon, but in passing by the
Rue des Poulies, they saw De Mouy and his escort cross the
place Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois.
" Ah !" said Henry, " they are taking him to the Louvre.
Dicible ! the wicket will be closed; they will take the name of
every one who enters, and I shall be suspected of having been
with him."
" Well, sire," replied La Mole, " there's the Queen of
Navarre's window."
" Mon Dieu ! I did not think of that. But how shall I attract
her attention ?"
" Oh," said La Mole, bowing with an air of respectful grati-
tude, "your majesty throws stones so well,"
334
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHAPTER XLVII.
de mouy de saint-phale.
This time Catherine had taken her precautions so well, that
she believed herself sure of her object.
Consequently, about ten o'clock, she had sent away Mar-
guerite, quite convinced that the Queen of Navarre was ignorant
of the plot against her husband, and went to the king.
Puzzled by the air of triumph which, in spite of her habitual
dissimulation, appeared on his mother's countenance, Charles
questioned Catherine, who only said:
" I can make but one reply to your majesty, and that is, you
will this evening be delivered from two of your bitterest
enemies."
Charles lowered his eyebrows, like a man who says to him-
self: " This is well—we shall see and whistled his tall boar-
hound, who came to him, dragging his belly along the ground
like a serpent, and, placing his fine and intelligent head on his
master's knee, crouched.
After a few minutes, which Catherine passed with her eyes
fixed and ears attentive, there was suddenly heard the noise of a
pistol-shot in the courtyard of the Louvre.
" What noise is that ?" inquired Charles, with a frown, whilst
the hound rose up and pricked his ears.
"Nothing," Catherine replied, "it was only a signal."
" And what is the meaning of that signal ?"
" It means that, from this moment, sire, your only, your real
enemy is unable any longer to injure you."
" Have they been killing a man ?" inquired Charles, looking
at his mother with that eye of command which signified that
assassination and mercy are two inherent attributes of royal
power.
"No, sire, they have only arrested two."
" Oh,"murmured Charles, "always hidden plots, conspiracies
against the king. Mort diable! mother, I am an oldish boy,
big enough to take care of myself, and want neither leading-
strings nor swaddling-clothes. Go into Poland with your son
Henry, if you desire to reign; but here you are wrong, I tell
you, to play the game you do."
" My son," replied Catherine, " this is the last time I meddle
with your affairs; but the enterprise was commenced long since,
DE MOUY DE SAINT-PHALE.
335
in which you have always said I was wrong, whilst I have
laboured to prove I was right."
_ At this moment M. de Nancey begged an audience of the
king, and there was a noise of footsteps in the vestibule, and
the butts of muskets clattered on the floor.
" Let M. de Nancey enter," said the king, hastily.
M. de Nancey entered, saluted the king, and then, turning to
the queen-mother, said:
" Madame, your orders are executed; he is taken."
"What do you mean by he?" cried Catherine, much
troubled; " have you only arrested one ?"
"He was alone, madame."
" Did he defend himself?"
" No, he was supping quietly in a room, and handed his
sword the moment it was demanded."
" Who is he ?" asked the king.
" You will see," said Catherine. " Bring in the prisoner, M.
de Nancey."
De Mouy was introduced.
" De Mouy!" exclaimed the king; " what is the matter now ?"
" If, sire," said De Mouy, with perfect composure, " your
majesty would allow me that liberty, I would ask the same
question."
" Instead of asking this question of the king," said Catherine,
"have the kindness, M. de Mouy, to tell my son who was the
man who was in the chamber of the King of Navarre on a
certain night, and who, on that night, resisted the king's orders,
like a rebel as he is, killed two of the guards, and wounded M.
de Maurevel."
" Yes," said Charles, frowning ; " do you know the name of
that man, M. de Mouy ?"
" I do, sire ; does your majesty desire to know it ?"
"Yes, it would give me pleasure, I confess."
" Well, sire, he is called De Mouy de Saint-Phale."
" It was you, then?" "It was, sire."
Catherine, astonished at this audacity, recoiled before the
young man.
" What!" inquired Charles IX., " dared you resist the orders
of the king ?"
" In the first place, sire, I was ignorant that there was an
order of your majesty ; then I saw only one thing, or rather but
one man, M. de Maurevel, the assassin of my father, the
336
MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
assailant of the admiral. I remembered that it was a year and
a half since, in the very chamber in which we now are, on the
evening of the 24th of August, your majesty had promised me
to do us justice on this murderer, and as since that time
very grave events had occurred, I thought that perchance the
king had been, in spite of himself, turned away from his desires;
seeing Maurevel within my reach, I believed heaven had sent
him there. Your majesty knows the rest, sire ; I struck him
down as a murderer, and fired at his men as robbers."
Charles made no reply ; his friendship for Henry had made
him view many things in another point of view than he had at
first seen them.
The queen-mother, in reference to Saint Bartholemew, had
set down in her memory observations which had fallen from her
son, very much resembling remorse.
" But," observed the queen-mother, " what were you doing
at that hour in the King of Navarre's apartments?"
" Oh," said De Mouy, " it is a long story to tell, but if his
majesty has the patience to listen "
"Yes,"replied Charles, "I should wish to hear it."
" I will obey, sire," said De Mouy, bowing.
Catherine sat down, fixing an uneasy look on the young chief.
" We will listen," said Charles. " Here, Actaeon !"
The dog resumed the place he had occupied before the
prisoner had come in.
"Sire," said De Mouy, "I came to his majesty the King of
Navarre as the deputy of our brethren, your faithful subjects of
the Reformed religion "
Catherine made a sign to Charles IX.
" Be quiet, madame," he said ; "I do not lose a word. Go
on, M. de Mouy; go on."
" To inform the King of Navarre," continued De Mouy,
"that his abjuration had lost for him the confidence of the
Huguenot party, but that, nevertheless, in remembrance of his
father, Antony de Bourbon, and especially out of regard for the
memory of his mother, the courageous Jeanne d'Albret, whose
name is dear amongst us, the chiefs of the Reformed religion
thought it a mark of deference due to him, to beg him to desist
from his claims to the crown of Navarre."
, "What said he?" asked Catherine, unable, in spite of her
self-control, to receive this unexpected blow without wincing a
little.
DE MOUY DE SAINT-PHALE.
33 7
" Ah ! ah !" said Charles, " but this crown of Navarre which,
without my permission, was made thus to j ump from head to
head, seems to belong a little to me."
"The Huguenots, sire, recognise better than any one the
principle of sovereignty which your majesty has just enunci-
ated, and therefore hope to induce your majesty to place the
crown on some head which is dear to you."
" I!" said Charles ; " on a head which is dear to me !—mort
diable ! of what head, then, do you speak, sir ? I do not under-
stand you."
" Of the head of the Duke d'Alengon."
Catherine became as pale as death, and her eyes glared
fiercely on De Mouy.
" And did my brother D'Alengon know this ?"
" Yes, sire."
" And accepted the crown ?"
"Subject to your majesty's consent, to which he referred us."
" Ah ! ah !" said Charles, " it is, indeed, a crown which would
suit our brother D'Alengon wonderfully well ! And that I
should never have thought of it ! Thanks, De Mouy—thanks !
when you have such ideas you will always be welcome at the
palace."
" Sire, you would long since have been informed of all this,
but for the unfortunate affair of the Louvre, which made me fear
that I had fallen into disgrace with your majesty."
" Yes; but," asked Catherine, " what said the King of Na«
varre to this proposal ?"
" The king, madame, yielded to the desire of his brethren,
and his renunciation was ready."
"In this case," cried Catherine, "you must have that re-
nunciation."
" I have, madame," said De Mouy ; " and by chance I have it
about me, signed by him, and dated."
" Of a date anterior to the affair in the Louvre ?" inquired
Catherine.
"Yes, of the previous evening, I think."
And De Mouy drew from his pocket a renunciation in favour
of the Duke d'Alengon, written and signed in Henry's hand,
and bearing the date assigned to it.
"Ma foiI yes," said Charles, "and all is in due form."
" And what did Henry demand in return for this renuncia-
tion ?"
22
338
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"Nothing, madame ; the friendship of the King Charles, he
said to us, would amply repay him for the loss of a crown."
Catherine bit her lips in anger, and wrung her beautiful
hands.
" This is all as complete as possible, De Mouy," added the
king.
" Then," asked the queen-mother, " if all was settled between
you and the King of Navarre, for what purpose did you seek an
interview with him this evening ?''
"I madame! with the King of Navarre?" said De Mouy.
" He who arrested me will bear testimony that I was alone.
Will your majesty call him ?"
"M. de Nancey," said the king, and the captain of the guards
entered.
"M. de Nancey," said Catherine, quickly, "was M. de
Mouy quite alone at the hostelry of the Belle Etoile ?"
" In the chamber, yes, madame : in the hostelry, no."
" Ah !" said Catherine, " who was his companion ?"
" I know not if he were the companion of M. de Mouy,
madame; but I know he escaped by a back door, after having
prostrated two of my guards."
" And you recognised this gentleman, no doubt."
jr " I did not, but the guards did."
" And who was he ?" inquired Charles IX.
" M. the Count Annibal de Coconnas."
" Annibal de Coconnas !" repeated the king, gloomy and
reflective. " He who made so terrible a slaughter of the Hugue-
nots during the St. Bartholomew ?"
" M. de Coconnas, gentleman of the Duke d'Alengon," re-
plied De Nancey.
" Good ! good !" said Charles. " You may withdraw, M. de
Nancey ; and another time, remember one thing."
" What is that, sire ?"
" That you are in my service, and will take your orders from
no one but myself."
M. de Nancey retired backwards, bowing most respectfully.
De Mouy smiled ironically at Catherine.
There was a brief silence. The queen pulled the tassels of
her cordeliere ; Charles caressed his dog.
"But what was your intention, sir?" continued Charles
Were you acting violently ?" *
" Against whom, sire ?"
DE MOUY DE SA1NT-PHALE.
339
"Why, against Henry, or Francis, or myself?"
"Sire, we had the renunciation of your brother-in-law, the
consent of your brother, and, as I had the honour to tell you,
we were on the point of soliciting your majesty's authority, when
there happened this unfortunate affair of M. de Maurevel's."
" Well, mother, I see no objection to all this. You were per-
fectly right, M. de Mouy, in requiring a king. Yes, Navarre
may be, and ought to be, a separate kingdom. Moreover, this
kingdom seems made expressly to endow my brother D'Alen£on,
who has always had so great a desire for a crown, that when we
wear our own, he cannot withdraw his gaze therefrom. The
only thing which opposed this coronation was Harry's rights;
but, since Harry voluntarily abdicates "
" Voluntarily, sire?"
" It appears to be the will of God ! M. de Mouy, you are
free to return to your brethren, whom I have chastised—some-
what rudely, perchance; but that is between God and myself;
and tell them, that since they desire to have my brother, the
Duke d'Alengon, for King of Navarre, the King of France
accedes to their desires. From this moment, Navarre is a
kingdom, and its sovereign's name is Fran§ois. I ask but eight
days for my brother to be ready to leave Paris with the eclat and
pomp which appertain to a king. Go, M. de Mouy—go. M.
de Nancey, allow M. de Mouy to retire. He is free."
" Sire," said De Mouy, advancing a step, "will your majesty
allow me "
" Yes," replied Charles.
And he extended his hand to the young Huguenot.
De Mouy went on one knee, and respectfully kissed the
king's hand.
"Apropos," said Charles, as De Mouy was about to rise,
" have you not demanded from me justice on that ruffian, De
Maurevel ?"
" I have, sire."
" I know not where he is, that I might render it to you, for
he is in hiding; but if you meet him, take justice into your
own hands. I authorise you to do so, and with all my heart."
" Oh, sire ! exclaimed De Mouy, " this is all I could desire.
I know not where he is ; but your majesty may rest assured I
will find him."
De Mouy respectfully saluted the king and Catherine, and
then retired uninterrupted. He made all haste to the hostelry
34°
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
of the Belle Etoile, where he found his horse, by whose aid,
three hours after he had quitted Paris, the young man breathed
in safety behind the walls of Mantes.
Catherine, bursting with rage, regained her apartment, whence
she passed into that of Marguerite, where she found Henry in
his dressing gown, as if just going to bed.
" Satan!" she muttered, " aid a poor queen, for whom God
will do nothing more !"
CHAPTER XLVIII.
two heads for one crown.
" Request M. d'Alen5on to come to me," said Charles, as his
mother left him.
M. de Nancey hastened to M. d'Alengon's apartments, and
delivered the king's message. The duke started when he
heard it. He always trembled in Charles's presence, and the
more so when he had reason to be afraid. Still, he went to his
brother with all speed.
Charles was standing up, and whistling a hunting air.
As he entered, the Duke d'Alengon caught from the glassy
eye of Charles one of those looks full of hatred, which he so
well understood.
" Your majesty has asked for me," he said. " I am here, sire.
What is your majesty's desire ?"
" I desire to tell you, brother, that, in order to recompense
you for the great friendship you bear me, I have resolved to do
for you to-day the thing you most desire in all the world."
" For me?"
" Yes, for you. Ask yourself what that thing is of which you
most frequently dream, without daring to ask for, and that thing
I will give you."
Sire," said Fran§ois, " I swear to you, that there is nothing
I more desire than the continuance of the king's good health."
" Then you will be deeply gratified to know, D'Alengon, that
the indisposition I experienced at the time when the Poles
arrived has quite passed by. I have escaped, thanks to Harry,
a furious wild boar, who would have ripped me up, and I am so
well as not to envy the healthiest man in my dominions : so
that, without being an unkind brother, you may wish for some-
TWO HEADS FOR ONE CROWN.
341
thing else besides the continuation of my health, which is per-
fectly restored."
" I desire nothing else, sire."
"Yes, yes, Francis," continued Charles, impatiently, "you
desire the crown of Navarre, and have had an understanding to
that effect with Harry and De Mouy : the first, that he would
abdicate, and the second, that he might offer it to you. Well,
Harry has renounced, De Mouy has mentioned your wishes to
me, and the crown you are ambitious to "
" Stop !" said D'Alengon, in a trembling voice.
" Well, mort diable.' it is yours."
D'Alengon turned ghastly pale, and then his face was suffused.
The favour which the king granted him at this moment threw
him into utter despair.
" But, sire," he replied, palpitating with emotion, and in vain
trying to recover his self-possession, " I have never desired, and
certainly never sought for such a thing."
"That is possible," said the king, "for you are very discreet,
brother; but it has been desired—sought for you."
" Sire, I swear to you that I never "
" Do not swear."
" But, sire, do you, then, exile me ?"
" Do you call this exile, Francois. Peste / you are hard to
please. What better thing could you hope for?"
D'Alengon bit his lips in despair.
" Ma foil" continued Charles, affecting a kind demeanour,
" I did not think you were so popular, Frangois, and particularly
with the Huguenots. Why, they really petition for you; and
what better could I desire them to have than a person devoted
to me; a brother whom I love, and who is incapable of betraying
me, at the head of a party who for thirty years has been in arms
against us. This must calm everything, as if by enchantment,
to say nothing of the fact that we shall be all kings in the family.
There will only be poor Harry, who will remain my friend, and
nothing more. But he is not ambitious, and this title, which
no one else covets, he claims."
" Oh, sire, you mistake; I covet that title—a title to which
no one has such right as I have. Henry is only your brother
by marriage; I am your brother by blood and in heart, and I
entreat you, sire, keep me near you."
"No, no, Frangois," replied Charles, " it would be wrong."
" How, sire ?"
342
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" For a thousand reasons."
" But, sire, have you a more faithful companion than I am ?
From my childhood I have never quitted your majesty."
"I know it well—I know it well; and sometimes I have
wished you further off."
"What means your majesty?"
" Oh, nothing—nothing ; I know—I know. Ah ! what
glorious hunting you will have there, Francois; I shall envy
you ! Do you know they chase the bear in the mountains there,
as we do the boar here. You'll send us such splendid skins;
you know they hunt there with the poniard—wait for the animal,
excite and irritate him : he goes towards the hunter, and four
paces off he rises on his hind legs ; then they plunge the steel
into his heart, as Henry did the wild boar at our last hunt.
You know it is dangerous work; but you are brave, Francois;
and the danger would be real pleasure to you."
" Ah ! your majesty increases my trouble, for I shall no more
hunt with you."
" Corboeuf! so much the better," said the king, " it does not
suit either of us to hunt together "
"What means your majesty?"
"To hunt with me causes you such pleasure, and creates in
you so much emotion, that you, who are skill personified—you,
who with any arquebuss can bring down a magpie at a hundred
paces—with a weapon of which you are such a perfect master,
failed at twenty paces to hit a wild boar, and broke the leg of
my best horse ! Mort diable / Francis, that makes one re-
fleet, you must know !"
" Oh, sire, think of my emotion," said D'Alengon, livid with
agitation.
" Yes," replied Charles ; " I guess what the emotion might
be, and so I say, Francis, it is best for us to hunt at a distance
from each other, for fear of such emotions. You might, you
know, in another emotion, kill the horseman instead of the
horse—the king instead of the animal ! When Montgomery
killed our father Henry II., by accident—emotion, perhaps—
the blow placed our brother Francois II. on the throne, and sent
our father Henry to Saint-Denys; a little in this way can do so
much."
The duke felt the perspiration pour down his brow at this
unexpected attack. The king had surmised all, and veiling his
anger under a jesting tone, was perhaps more terrible than if he
TWO HEADS FOR ONE CROWN.
343
had outpoured his lava of hate in its fullest wrath ; his revenge
was proportioned to his rancour. In proportion as the one was
sharpened, the other increased; and, for the first time, D'Alen^on
felt remorse, or rather regret, for having meditated a crime that
had not succeeded. He had sustained the struggle as long as
he could, but at this last blow he bowed his head.
Charles fixed on him his vulture gaze, and watched closely
every feeling that displayed itself in the young duke's counte-
nance, as if he perused an open book. " Brother," said the
king, " we have declared our resolution ; that resolution is im-
mutable. You will go."
D'Alen^on started ; but Charles did not appear to observe it,
and continued : " I wish that Navarre should be proud of having
at its head a brother of the King of France. Gold, power,
honour—you will have all that belongs to your birth, as your
brother Henry had; and, like him," he added, with a smile,
" you will bless me when afar off—thank Heaven, blessings
know no distance !"
« Sire "
" Accept, or rather resign yourself Once a king, we shall
find for you a wife worthy of a son of France, who may—who
knows ?—bring you another throne."
"But," observed the Duke d'Alencjon, "your majesty forgets
your good friend Henry."
" Henry !—why, I told you he does not desire the throne of
Navarre ; he has abandoned it. Henry is a jovial fellow, and
not a pale-face, like you ; he likes to amuse himself, and laugh
at his ease, and not weary himself, as we are compelled to do,
who wear crowns upon our heads."
" Your majesty then desires me to occupy myself "
" By no means. Do not in any way disturb yourself, I will
arrange everything myself. Say not a word to any one, and I
will take upon myself to give publicity to everything. Frangois,
good day."
There was no reply. The duke bowed and left the apartment,
with rage devouring his heart.
He was most desirous to find Henry, and talk with him of all
that had passed ; but he could only find Catherine, for Henry
avoided, whilst his brother sought him.
The duke, seeing Catherine, endeavoured to swallow his griefs
and tried to smile.
"Well, madame," he said, "do you know the great news ?"
344
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" I know that there is an idea of making a king of yon, sir."
" It is a great kindness on the part of my brother, madame ;
and I am inclined to think that a portion of my gratitude is due
to you • although, I confess, that at bottom it gives me pain
thus to despoil the King of Navarre."
" You are very fond of Harry, then, my son, it appears."
" Why, yes, for some time we have been closely allied."
" Do you suppose that he loves you as much as you love him?"
"I hope so, madame."
"Are there brothers, then, amongst kings?" she asked, with a
singular smile.
" Oh, we were neither of us kings when our alliance began."
" Yes; but things are changed now: who can say that you
will not both be kings ?"
Catherine saw, by the start and sudden colour of the duke,
that the shaft had hit the mark.
" He ? Harry, king ? and of what kingdom ?"
"The most glorious in Christendom, my son."
" Ah!" said D'Alengon, growing very pale, " what mean you ?"
" What a good mother should say to a son—what you have
thought of more than once, Frangois."
" I ?" said the duke, " I have thought of nothing, madame,
I swear to you !"
" I believe you; for your friend, your brother Henry, as you
call him, is, under his. apparent frankness, a very clever and wily
person, who keeps his secrets better than you do yours, Fran-
gois. For instance, did he ever tell you that De Mouy was his
man of business ?"
And Catherine looked at Frangois as though she would read
his very heart; but dissimulation was Frangois' forte, and he
bore her gaze unshrinkingly.
" De Mouy !" said he, with surprise, and as if he uttered the
name for the first time.
" Yes, the Huguenot De Mouy de Saint-Phale; he who nearly
killed De Maurevel, and who is intriguing and raising an army
to support your brother Henry against your family."
Catherine, unaware that Frangois knew as much on this matter
as herself, rose at these words, and would have gone out majes-
tically, but Frangois detained her.
" Mother," he said, "another word, if you please. How can
Henry, with his feeble resources, carry on any war to disquiet
my family ?"
TWO HEADS FOR ONE CROWN.
345
" Child," said the queen, smiling, " know he is supported by
more than thirty thousand men, who, the day he says the word,
will appear as suddenly as if they sprang forth from the ground;
and these thirty thousand men are Huguenots, remember ; in
other words, the bravest soldiers in the world: and then, he has
a protector you have not been able, or have not chosen, to con-
ciliate."
" Who is that?"
" He has the king—the king, who loves him, pushes him on;
the king, who, from jealousy against your brother of Poland, and
from spite against you, seeks a successor out of his family."
" The king ! Do you think so, mother ?"
" Do you not see how he takes to Harry, his dear Harry?"
" Yes, madame ; yes."
" And how he is repaid in return ! for this very Harry, for-
getting how his brother-in-law would have shot him on Saint
Bartholomew's day, grovels, to the very earth like a dog, and
licks the hand which has beaten him."
"Yes," said Fran§ois, " Henry is very humble with my brother
Charles; and, the king always rallying him as to his ignorance,
he has began to study hawking. It was only yesterday he asked
me if I had not some books on that sport."
" Well," said Catherine, " well, and what reply did you make
him ?"
" That I would look in my library."
" Good, good !" answered Catherine; " he must have that
book. I will give him one in your name. Will you, D'Alengon,
obey me blindly in all I desire you to do with regard to Henry,
who loves you not, whatever you may think."
D'Alengon smiled, and replied, " I will, mother."
" Well, then, on the morning of the next hunt come here and
seek for the book; I will give it you, and you shall carry it to
the detested Henry."
"'And ?"
"Leave the rest to Providence or chance."
Fran§ois bowed in acquiescence, and left his mother's chamber.
Meantime, Marguerite received through La Mole a letter from
De Mouy addressed to the King of Navarre. As in politics
the two illustrious allies had no secrets, she opened the missive,
and read it; and then, going quickly and silently along the secret
passage, went into the King of Navarre's antechamber, no longer
guarded, since Orthon's disappearance. This circumstance had
346
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
greatly disquieted Henry, who felt assured the poor boy had
fallen a victim to some machination of the queen-mother.
Any other than Henry would have kept silence ; but Henry
calculated cleverly, and saw his silence would betray him; and
thus he sought and inquired for Orthon everywhere, even in the
presence of the king and the queen-mother, and of every one,
down to the sentinel at the wicket of the Louvre; but every
inquiry was in vain.
The antechamber was thus empty; Henry declaring he would
not replace him until he knew for certain that he had disap-
peared for ever. Henry turned round as the queen entered.
" You, madame !" he cried.
" Yes," replied Marguerite; "read quickly !" and she handed
the open letter to him. It contained these lines :
" Sire,—The moment has arrived for putting our plan of
flight into execution.
" In five or six days there will be hawking on the banks of
the Seine, from Saint-Germains to Maisons, all along the forest.
" Go to this meeting, although it is only a hawking party: put
a good coat of mail under your doublet, your best sword by
your side, and ride the fleetest horse in your stable.
" About noon, when the sport is at its height, and the king
is galloping after his falcon, get away alone, if you come alone;
with the queen, if her majesty will follow you.
" Fifty of our party will be concealed in the pavilion of
Francis the First, of which we have the key ; no one will know
that they are there, for they will come at night, and the shutters
will be closed.
" You will pass by the Allee des Violettes, at the end of
which I shall be on the watch ; at the right of this allee will be
Messieurs de la Mole and Coconnas, with two horses, intended
to replace yours if they should be fatigued.
" Adieu, sire ! be ready, as we shall be."
"Now then, sire," said Marguerite, "be a hero; it is not
difficult. You have but to follow the route indicated, and create
for me a glorious throne," said the daughter of Henry II.
An imperceptible smile rose to the thin lips of the Bdarnais,
as he kissed Marguerite's lips, and went out to explore the pas-
sage, whistling the burthen of an old song:
'' Cil qui mieux battit la muraille
N'entra point dedans le chasteau."
TWO HEADS FOE ONE CROWN.
347
The precaution was good, for as he opened his bedchamber
door the Duke d'Alengon opened that of his antechamber.
Henry motioned to Marguerite with his hand, and then said
aloud, " Ah, is it you, brother ? Welcome !"
The queen understood her husband's meaning, and went
quickly into a dressing-closet, in front of the door of which was
a thick tapestry.
D'Alengon entered with a timorous step, and looking aroun
him, "Are we alone, brother?" he asked, in an undertone, d
" Quite. But what ails you ?—you seem greatly disturbed."
"We are discovered, Henry !"
" How discovered ?"
" De Mouy has been arrested !"
" I know it."
" Well, De Mouy has told the king all!"
" All what ?''
" He said I was ambitious of the throne of Navarre, and had
conspired to obtain it."
" The dunderhead !" said Henry. " So that you are com-
promised, my dear brother ! How is it, then, that you are not
under arrest ?"
"I cannot tell; the king jested with me, and offered me the
throne of Navarre, but I said nothing."
"And you did well, ventre-saint-gris /" said the Bearnais.
" Stand firm, for our lives depend on that."
"Yes," said Francois, " our position is difficult, and that is
why I came to ask your advice, my brother. Ought I to flee or
remain ?"
" You have seen the king, and he has spoken to you ?"
"Yes."
"Well, you must have ascertained his thoughts; act from
your own inspiration."
" I would rather remain," said Francois.
Master of himself as he was, yet Henry allowed a movement
of joy to escape him, and Francois observed it.
" Remain, then," said Henry.
" And you ?" " Why, if you remain, I have no motive
for going ; I should go if you went, but stay if you stay."
" So, then," said D'Alengon, " there is an end of all our plans,
and you give way at the first repulse."
" Thanks to my contented disposition," replied Henry, " I
am happy anywhere and everywhere."
34§
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Well, then," observed D'Alen^on, " there's no more to be
said ; only, if you change your mind, let me know."
" Corbleu t I shall be sure to do that," replied Henry.
" Have we not agreed to have no secrets for one another ?"
D'Alengon said no more, and withdrew full of thought, for he
believed he had seen the tapestry move at a certain moment;
and, indeed, scarcely was D'Alengon gone than Marguerite re-
appeared.
" What do you think of this visit ?" inquired Henry.
"That there is something new and important; what it is, I
will learn."
" In the meanwhile ?"
" In the meanwhile, fail not to come to my apartments to-
morrow evening."
" I will not fail, be assured, madame," was the reply of Henry,
kissing his wife's hand very gallantly.
With the same precaution she had used in coming, Mar-
guerite returned to her own apartments.
.CHAPTER XLIX.
the book of venerie.
Five days had elapsed since the events we have related. The
Louvre clock had just struck four, when D'Alen£on, who, with
all the rest of the court, had risen early to prepare for the hunt,
entered his mother's apartment.
The queen was not in her chamber, but she had left orders
that if her son came he was to wait. At the end of a few
minutes she came out of a cabinet where she carried on her
chemical studies, and into which no one ever entered. As she
opened the door, a strong odour of some acrid perfume per-
vaded the room, and looking through the door of the cabinet, he
perceived a thick white vapour, like that of some aromatic sub-
stance, floating in the air.
"Yes," said Catherine, "I burnt some old parchments, and
their smell was so offensive that I cast some juniper into the
brazier." D'Alemjon bowed.
" Well," continued the queen, concealing beneath the sleeves
of her robe-de-chambre her hand stained with large reddish
spots, " anything new ?"
THE BOOK OF VENERIE.
349
" Nothing."
" Have you seen Henry?" " Yes."
" Will he go ?" " He refuses positively."
" The knave !" " What say you, madame ?"
" That he will go." " You think so ?"
" I am sure of it." " Then he escapes us ?"
" Yes," said Catherine. " And you let him depart ?"
" I not only suffer him, but, I tell you, it is necessary he
should leave the court."
" I do not understand you."
" Listen : a skilful physician, the same who gave me the book
of venerie you are about to present to the King of Navarre, has
told me that he is on the point of being attacked with con-
sumption—an incurable disease; so that if he be doomed to
die, it were better that he should die away from us than at the
court."
" That would be too painful for us."
" Especially for Charles; whereas, if he die, after having
betrayed him, he will look upon his death as a punishment from
heaven."
"You are right: it were better he should depart. But are
you sure he will go ?"
" All my measures are taken. The place of rendezvous is in
the forest of St. Germain's ; fifty Huguenots are to escort him to
Fontainebleau, where five hundred others await him."
"And does Margot accompany him?" asked D'Alengon.
"Yes, but upon Henry's death she returns to court."
" Are you sure that Henry will die ?"
"The physician who gave me this book assured me of it."
" And where is this book ?"
Catherine entered her cabinet, and returned instantly with
the book in her hand.
" Here it is," said she.
D'AlenQon looked at it, not without a certain feeling of terror.
" What is this book ?" asked he, shuddering.
" I have already told you. It is a treatise on the art of rear-
ing and training falcons, goshawks, and ger-falcons, written for
the Italian prince, Castruccio Castracani, of Lucca."
" What am I to do with it ?"
" Give it to Henry, who has asked you for a book of the kind.
As he is going to hawk this morning with the king, he will not
fail to read it ; but be sure to give it to him,"
MARGUERITE EE VA LOIS.
" Oh, I dare not!" said D'Alengon, shuddering.
" Why not ?" replied the queen ; " it is a book like any other,
except it has lain by so long that the leaves stick together. Do
not attempt to read it, for it can only be read by wetting the
finger, and turning over each leaf, which occasions a great loss
of time."
" So that it will only be read by a man who is anxious to
learn the art of hawking ?"
" Exactly so, my son—you understand ?"
" Oh," said D'Alengon, " I hear Henry in the court; give it
to me, and I will avail myself of his absence to place it in his
room."
" I had rather you gave it to him; it is more certain."
" I have already told you I dare not."
" At least place it where it can be easily seen."
" I will place it where he must see it. Will it be better to
open it ?"
" Yes, open it."
" Give it me, then."
^ D'Alengon took with a trembling hand the book Catherine
held out to him.
" Take it," said she. " There is no danger; besides, you
have your gloves on."
D'Alengon wrapped the book in his mantle, as if still fearful.
" Make haste," continued the queen; " I expect Henry will
enter every moment."
" Madame, I go."
And the duke left the apartment, trembling with emotion.
We have often introduced our readers into the apartments of
the King of Navarre, and have made them witnesses of the
events that have passed there, but never did the walls of the
room see a face so pale as the Duke d'Alengon's, when he
entered the apartment, the book in his hand.
On the wall hung Henry's sword. Some links of mail
were scattered on the floor, a well-filled purse and a poniard
lay on the table, and the light ashes in the grate showed D'Alen-
gon that Henry had put on a shirt of mail, collected what
money he could, and burnt all papers that might compromise
him.
"My mother was right," thought D'Alengon. "He would
betray me."
Doubtless, this conviction gave him strength; for after having
THE BOOK OF VENER1E.
351
sounded the walls and lifted the tapestry, he took the book from
under his cloak, placed it on the table, then, with a hesitation
that betrayed his fears, opened the book at an engraving. The
instant he had done so, he drew off his glove and cast it into
the fire : the leather crackled, burned, and was soon reduced to
ashes.
D'Alengon waited until he had seen it consumed, and then
hastily returned to his own apartment.
As he entered, he heard steps on the winding stair, and not
doubting but that it was Henry, he closed his door.
Then he looked out of his window into the court below.
Henry was not there, and this strengthened Frangois' belief
that it was he whom he had just heard.
The duke sat down, and took up a book : it was the History
of France, a work dedicated to Charles IX.
But the duke could not fix his attention on it; it seemed to
him he could see through the walls. His eyes appeared to
plunge into the chamber of Henry, spite of the obstacles that
separated them. In order to drive away the terrible object
before his mind's eye, the duke vainly looked at his arms, his
ornaments, his books ; every detail of the engraving that he had
seen but for a moment was before him still: it was a gentleman
on horseback, recalling his falcon, in a flat landscape.
Then it was not the book he saw, but the King of Navarre
reading it, and wetting his thumb in order to turn over the
pages. At this sight, fictitious and imaginary as it was, D'Alen-
gon staggered against a table, and covered his eyes with his
hands, as if to hide the horrible vision.
Suddenly D'Alengon saw Henry in the court; he stopped a
few moments to speak to the men who were loading two mules,
ostensibly with his provisions for the chase, but really with the
money and other things he wished to take with him; then,
having given his orders, he advanced towards the door.
D'Alengon stood motionless ; it was not Henry, then, he had
heard mount the stairs. He opened his door and listened ; this
time there was no mistake—it was Henry; D'Alengon recog-
nisedhis step, even to the peculiar jingle of his spurs.
Henry's door opened, and then closed.
" Bon /" said D'Alengon; "he has passed through the first
apartment, he has entered his bedchamber, he has looked if his
sword, his purse, and his poniard are there ; then he has seen
the book open on the table. ' What is this book ?' he asks
352
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
himself; 'where has it come from?—who has brought it?'
Then, seeing the engraving, he tries to read it, and turns over
the leaves."
A cold damp passed over Francois.
" Will he call for help?" said he. ££Is the poison sudden?
No ! for my mother said he would die of consumption."
Ten minutes passed in these horrible reflections. D'Alengon
could support it no longer; he rose, and passed through his
chamber, which was already filled with gentlemen.
££ Good day, gentlemen," said he, ££ I am going to the king."
And to distract his attention, to prepare an alibi perhaps,
D'Alengon descended to his brother's apartments. Why, he
knew not—what had he to say ? Nothing ! it was not Charles
he sought—it was Henry he fled from.
Francois traversed successively the saloon and the sleeping-
room, without meeting any one; he then thought Charles was
in his armoury, and he opened the door.
Charles was seated at a table in an arm-chair of carved oak ;
his back was turned to the door by which Frangois had entered
The duke approached silently.
Charles was reading.
££ Pardieu /" cried the king, £t what an admirable book !—I did
not think there was such a work in France."
D'Alengon listened.
££ Devil take the leaves !" said Charles, as, wetting his thumb,
he turned them. ££ It seems as if they had purposely stuck the
leaves together, to conceal the marvels they contain."
D'Alengon bounded forward. The book Charles was reading
was the same that D'Alengon had taken into Henry's room.
A cry burst from his lips.
££ Ah, it is you, D'Alengon !" said the king; ££ you are just in
time to see the most admirable work on venerie in the world."
D'Alengon's first idea was to snatch the book from his brother,
but an infernal thought restrained him.
££ Sire," asked he, ££ how did this book come into your pos-
session ?"
££ Oh, I went into Harry's room to see if he was ready, and
found this treasure, which I brought down with me to read."
And the king again moistened his finger, and again turned
over the page.
££ Sire," faltered D'Alengon, whose hair stood on end, ££ sire,
I come to tell you "
THE HA WKING TATTY.
353
" Let me finish this chapter, Frangois, and then tell me what
you please. I have read, or rather devoured, fifty pages."
" My brother has tasted the poison five-and-twenty times,"
thought D'Alengon; " he is a dead man !"
Frangois wiped the cold dew from his brow, and waited in
silence, as the king bade him, until he had finished the
chapter.
CHAPTER L.
the hawking party.
Charles read on : he seemed, indeed, to devour the pages;
and each page, as we have said, was gummed to the other.
D'Alengon gazed wildly on this terrible spectacle.
"Oh," murmured he, "what will happen now? Shall I go
into exile and seek a visionary throne, whilst Henry, on the
first intelligence of Charles's illness, will return to some fortress
near Paris, whence he may come hither in an hour or two ; so
that before D'Anjou even hears of Charles's death the whole
dynasty will be changed."
Instantly his plan with regard to Henry altered. It was
Charles who had read the poisoned book : Henry must stay.
He was less to be dreaded in the Bastille, or a prisoner at
Vincennes, than free, and at the head of thirty thousand men.
The duke waited until Charles finished his chapter, and then,
" Brother," said he, "I waited because you ordered me ; but I
have something of the greatest importance to say to you."
" Ah, the devil take you !" returned Charles, whose pale cheeks
glowed with unusual fire. " If you come and worry me, I'll get
rid of you, as I have of the King of Poland."
"It is not on that subject I would speak to you. Your
majesty has touched me in my most sensitive point, that of my
love for you as a brother, and my devotion as your subject; and
I come to prove to you I am no traitor."
" Well, well," said Charles, crossing his legs, and throwing
himself back on his chair; "some fresh report—some new
nightmare."
"No, sire; a certainty—a plot, of which I know all the
details."
" A plot! let us hear this wonderful plot."
23
354
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Sire," said Francis, " whilst your majesty hawks in the
plain of Vesinet, the King of Navarre will fly into the forest of
St. Germain's, where a troop of his friends await him, and will
escape with him."
"I expected this !" cried Charles; "a fresh calumny against
my poor Harry ! When will you leave him alone ?"
" Your majesty need not wait long to know whether what I
say be true or false."
" Why not?"
" Because this evening he will be gone."
Charles rose. " Listen," said he : " I will once more seem
to believe you; but mind, it is for the last time. Without there !
summon the King of Navarre."
A soldier was about to obey, when Francis stopped him.
" That is a bad way to learn the truth," said he. " Henry will
deny it, give a signal, all his accomplices will conceal them-
selves, and my mother and myself will be accused of calumny."
Charles opened the window, for the blood was rushing into
his head. Then, turning to D'Alengon, "What would you do,
then ?" asked he.
" Sire," said D'Alentjon, " I would surround the wood with
three detachments of light horse, who, at a certain hour, should
beat the forest, and drive every one in it to the Pavilion of
Francois the First, which I would, as if casually, have appointed
as the place for dining at. Then, when Henry left you, I would
follow him to the rendezvous, and capture him and his accom-
plices."
" A good idea enough !" returned Charles. " Call the captain
of my guards."
D'Alentjon drew from his doublet a silver whistle, fastened to
a chain of gold, and whistled. De Nancey appeared. Charles
gave him some orders, in an undertone. Meanwhile Actseon,
the boar-hound, had dragged a book off the table and begun to
tear it. Charles turned round and swore a terrible oath. The
book was the precious Treatise on Venerie, of which there
existed but three copies in the world.
The chastisement was proportionate to the offence. Charles
seized a whip and lashed the dog soundly : Actseon yelled, and
disappeared under a table covered with a large green cloth.
The king picked up the book, and saw with joy that but one
leaf was wanting, and that leaf, not a page of text, but an
engraving. He locked it up carefully in a cupboard, to D'Alen-
THE HAWKING TATTY.
355
9011's great regret; who, now that it had fulfilled its fearful task,
would fain have seen it out of Charles's hands.
Six o'clock struck, and the king descended. He first closed
the door of the armoury, locked it, and put his key in his
pocket, D'Alengon earnestly watching each movement; on his
way downstairs he stopped, and passed his hand over his eye.
" I do not know what is the matter with me," observed he,
" but I feel very weak."
"Perhaps," faltered D'Alengon, "there is a storm in the
air."
"A storm in March! you are mad," said Charles. "No
no; I feel a dizziness, my skin is dry, I am over-fatigued;
that's all."
The fresh air, the cries of the huntsmen, and the noise of the
horses and hounds, produced their ordinary effect upon him;
he breathed freely, and felt exhilarant.
His first care was to look for Henry and Marguerite, who
seemed, excellent spouses, as if they could not quit one an-
other.
On perceiving Charles, Henry spurred his horse, and in
three bounds was beside him.
"Ah, ah, Harry !" said Charles, "you are mounted as if you
were going to hunt the stag, and yet you know we are only
going to hawk."
Then without awaiting a reply, " Forward, gentlemen !"
cried he, frowning; "we must be at the meet by nine."
Catherine was watching at a window, and her pale face only
appeared : her figure was concealed by the curtain.
At Charles's order, the whole cortege passed through the gate
of the Louvre, and along the road to St.-Germains, amidst the
acclamations of the people, who saluted their young king as he
rode by on his white steed.
" What did he say to you ?" asked Marguerite of Henry.
" He felicitated me on the stoutness of my horse."
" Is that all ?"
" Yes."
" I fear he knows something."
" I fear so."
" Let us be cautious."
Henry's face was lighted up, in reply, with one of his cordial
smiles, as if to say, " Be easy, ma mie
As for Catherine, when she had seen them all depart, she let
23—2
356
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
fall the curtain : " This time," murmured she, " I think I have
him."
Then, to satisfy herself, after having waited for a few minutes,
she entered the King of Navarre's apartments, by aid of her
pass-key. But she searched in vain for the book.
" He has locked it up," thought she 5 " and if he has not
read it already, he will."
And she descended, convinced her project had succeeded.
The king arrived at St.-Germains. The sun, hitherto hidden
by a cloud, lighted up the splendid cortege. Then, as if it had
awaited this moment, a heron rose from the reeds with a
mournful cry.
" Haw ! haw !" cried Charles, unhooding his falcon.
The falcon, dazzled for a moment by the light,' described a
circle ; then suddenly perceiving the heron, dashed after it.
However, the heron, which had risen a hundred yards before
the beaters, had profited by the time occupied in unhooding
the falcon to gain a considerable distance ; he was therefore at
least at a height of five hundred feet, and was still mounting
rapidly.
" Haw ! haw ! Bec-de-Fer !" cried Charles ; " haw ! haw !"
The noble bird, like an arrow, mounted after the heron, which
had now well nigh disappeared.
" Ah, coward !" said Charles, putting his horse to its speed,
and throwing back his head, so as not to lose sight of the chase;
" courage, Bec-de-Fer!"
The contest was most curious ; the falcon was rapidly near-
ing the heron ; the only question was, which could rise the
highest. Fear had better wings than courage. The falcon
passed underneath, and the heron, profiting by his advantage,
dealt him a blow with his long beak. The falcon staggered,
and seemed as if about to fly, but soon recovering himself, went
after the heron. The latter, pursuing his advantage, had
changed the direction of his flight, and sought the forest; but
the falcon followed him so closely, that the heron was fain
again to mount, and in a few seconds the two birds were
scarcely distinguishable.
" Bravo, Bec-de-Fer!" cried Charles, " see, he is uppermost!"
"Faith !" said Henry, "I confess I do not see the one or
the other." " Nor I," said Marguerite.
" If you can't see them, you may hear them. At least the
heron," replied Charles. " Hark! he asks quarter."
THE HAWKING PARTY.
357
As he spoke, two or three plaintive cries were heard.
" Look, look!" cried Charles, "and you will see them descend
quicker than they went up."
As the king spoke, the two birds reappeared : the falcon was
uppermost.
" Bec-de-Fer has him !" shouted Charles.
The heron, outflown by the falcon, no longer sought to defend
himself; he folded his wings, and dropped like a stone; but
his adversary did the same ; and when the fugitive again re-
sumed his flight, he received a stroke that stunned him; he
fell to the earth, and the falcon, uttering a note of victory,
alighted by him.
"Brave falcon!" cried Charles, galloping towards the spot
where the heron lay. But suddenly he stopped, and, uttering
a piercing cry, let fall his bridle, and pressed his hand to his
stomach. All the courtiers hastened up.
" It is nothing," said he, with inflamed features and haggard
eyes. " But I felt as if a hot iron was passing through me just
now; but it is nothing." And he galloped on.
D'Alengon turned pale.
" What is the matter now ?" asked Henry of Marguerite.
" I know not," replied she ; " but did you see Charles ?—he
was purple !"
" He is not so generally," said Henry.
Arrived at the scene of combat, Charles sprang off his
horse; but on alighting, he was forced to seize the saddle to
prevent himself from falling.
" My brother !" cried Marguerite, " what is the matter ?"
" I feel," said Charles, " what Portia must have felt when
she swallowed her burning coals. It seems as if my breath was
flame."
Meantime, the falcon was reclaimed, and all the suite gathered
round Charles.
" What is all this ?" cried he. " Corps de Christ I it is nothing,
or at most only the sun that affects me. Unhood all the fal-
cons !—there go a whole flight of herons !"
Five or six falcons were instantly unhooded, whilst all the
chase galloped along the bank of the river.
" Well, madame, what say you ?" asked Henry.
" That the moment is favourable, and that if the king does
not look back, we may easily gain the forest."
Henry called the attendant who had the fallen heron in
358
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
charge, and whilst the court swept on, remained behind, as if
to examine the bird. At this moment, and as if to aid his
plans, a pheasant rose. Henry slipped the jesses of his falcon :
he had now the pretext of a chase on his own account to
assist him.
CHAPTER LI.
the pavilion of franqois the first.
At the right of the Allee des Yiolettes is a long clearing, so far
that it cannot be discovered from the high road, but yet the
high road can be seen from the clearing.
In the middle of this clearing two men were lying on the
grass, having a travelling cloak spread beneath them, at their
side a long sword, and a musketoon (then called a petronel)
with the muzzle turned from them. One of them was leaning
on his knee and one hand, listening like a hare or deer.
" It appears to me," said this individual, " that the hunt drew
very close upon us just now. I heard the cries of the hunters
as they cheered on the falcon."
" And now," said the other, who appeared to await events
with much more philosophy than his comrade, " now I hear
them no longer; they must be a long way off."
" What the devil! my dear Annibal," said the other, " would
you have ? We must wait quietly ; the place hides us and our
mules and horses very well; De Mouy has selected a good spot,
one which has all the concealments and privacy indispensable
to a conspirator."
" Ah, good !" said the other gentleman ; " that's the word, is
it? Well, I expected it. So, then, we are conspiring, are we?"
" We are not conspiring; we are serving the king and
queen."
"Well, it's all very odd !" said Coconnas, yawning. "It is-
not yet twelve o'clock, and therefore we have time for a nap
and so saying, Coconnas stretched hjmself on his mantle like
a man who is about to add practice to precept, but as his ear
touched the ground, he raised his finger and motioned La Mole
to be silent.
Then a distant sound was heard, at first scarcely perceptible,
and to unpractised ears would only have been the wind, but to
the cavaliers it was the distant galloping of horses.
THE PA VILION OF FRANCOIS THE FIRST. 359
La Mole sprang to his feet in a moment
" Here they are !" said he. " Now then for a start!"
Coconnas rose more quietly, and then a regular and mea-
sured noise struck the ear of the two friends ; the neighing of
a horse made the horses they had at ten paces off prick up
their ears, and in an alley there passed, like a white shadow, a
female, who, turning towards them, made a particular signal and
disappeared.
" The queen !" they exclaimed, both at once.
"What can this mean?" said Coconnas.
" And she did so with her arm," said La Mole, " which
means : 1 Presently' "
" She did so," said Coconnas, " which means: ' Go at
once "
" The signal means : ' Wait for me.'"
" It means : ' Away at once /"'
"Well," said La Mole, "let each act on his own conviction.
Do you go—I will remain."
Coconnas shrugged his shoulders and laid down on the grass.
At the same moment, in the opposite direction from that which
the queen had followed, but in the same alley, there passed, at
top speed, a troop of horsemen, whom the two friends recog-
nised as Protestants. They disappeared rapidly.
" Peste! the thing becomes serious," said Coconnas, rising.
" Let us go to the Pavilion of Frangois the First."
" No," replied La Mole; " by no means. If we are dis-
covered, the attention of the king will be especially directed
towards the pavilion, as that is the general rendezvous."
" Well, perhaps you are right," grumbled Coconnas.
Hardly had these words been uttered, than a horseman
passed like a flash of lightning amidst the trees, and leaping
over ditches, bushes, briars, and all obstacles, reached the
young men. He had a pistol in each hand, and guided his
horse in his furious career with his knees only.
" M. de Mouy !" exclaimed Coconnas, uneasy, and now
more on the alert than La Mole; " M. de Mouy flying ! Then
it is every one for himself!"
" Quick—quick !" cried the Huguenot; " away with you !—
all is lost!—I have come round to tell you so, and now to
horse and away !" " And the queen !" cried La Mole.
But the voice of the young man was lost in the distance, and
he neither heard nor replied.
360
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
Coconnas had soon made up his mind, whilst La Mole re-
mained motionless, following De Mouy with his eyes, as he
disappeared amongst the branches. He hastened to the horses,
and leaping on his own, threw the bridle of the other to La-
Mole, and prepared to dash off. " Come, come!" he exclaimed,
"Let us be off, as De Mouy advises, and De Mouy is a sen-
sible man. Away, away, La Mole !"
" One moment," said La Mole; "we came here for some-
thing."
" Unless it is to get hanged," replied Coconnas, " I would
advise you to lose no more time. I would only observe, that
when M. de Mouy de Saint-Phale flies, all the world may flee
too."
" M. de Mouy de Saint-Phale," said La Mole, "is not
charged to carry off the Queen Marguerite ! M. de Mouy de
Saint-Phale does not love the Queen Marguerite !"
" Mordi ! and he is quite right too ! ' Come de bceufP as
King Charles says, we are conspiring, my dear fellow; and
when men conspire, they should make off at the right time.
Mount, mount, La Mole !"
" Well, well, let us then to horse and away !"
"That's right."
La Mole turned round to lay his hand on the pommel of his
saddle; but at the moment when he put foot in the stirrup, a
voice of command was heard, saying:
" Halt there—surrender !"
And at the same moment the figure of a man was seen be-
hind an oak—then another—then thirty; they were the light
dragoons dismounted, who were making their way quietly, and
searching the forest.
" What did I tell you ?" muttered Coconnas.
The light dragoons were within thirty paces of the two
friends.
"Well, gentlemen," said the Piedmontese, "what is your
pleasure ?"
The lieutenant desired his men to take aim at the two
friends.
" Gentlemen," said Coconnas, drawing his sword, and raising
it in the air, " we surrender; but allow me to inquire where-
fore we are called on to do so ?"
" That you must ask of the King of Navarre."
" What crime have we committed ?"
THE PA VIL10N OF FRANCOIS THE FIRST. 361
" M. d'Alernjon will inform you."
Coconnas and La Mole looked at each other. The name of
their enemy at such a moment had very little to give them con-
fidence. Yet they neither of them made any resistance. Co-
connas was desired to alight from his horse, a manoeuvre which
he executed without a word; then they were both placed in the
centre of the light dragoons, and took the route to the Pavilion
of Frangois I.
" You wished to see the Pavilion of Frangois," said Coconnas
to La Mole, when they saw through the trees the walls of a
pretty gothic building ; "well, there it is."
La Mole made no reply, but only extended his hand to Co-
connas. By the side of this beautiful pavilion, built in the
time of Louis XII., and which was called after Frangois, be-
cause he always made it a rendezvous de chasse, was a hut built
for the huntsmen and prickers, and which was now nearly
concealed by the muskets, halberds, and swords in front of it.
The prisoners were conducted to this hut.
We will now throw a little light on the gloomy position of the
two friends, by stating a few details. The Protestant gentle-
men had assembled, as was agreed, in the Pavilion of Frangois
I., of which we know De Mouy had the key. Masters of the
forest, as they believed, they had placed sentinels here and
there, whom the light dragoons, having exchanged their white
scarfs into red ones (a precaution due to the ingenious zeal
of M. de Nancey), had laid hands upon without striking a
blow.
The light dragoons continued their quest, keeping a good
watch over the pavilion j but De Mouy, who, as we have seen,
was awaiting the king at the end of the Allee des Violettes, had
seen these red scarfs stealing along, and instantly suspected
them. He hastily concealed himself, and remarked the vast
circle they made in order to beat the forest and hem in the
place of rendezvous. At the same moment, at the bottom of
the principal alley, he had seen the white aigrettes and bright
arquebusses of the king's body-guard, and then the king him-
self, whilst in the opposite direction he observed the King of
Navarre. Then he had made a sign of a cross with his hat,
which was the signal agreed upon when all was lost. At this
signal the king turned back, and rapidly disappeared. Then
De Mouy, digging the two large rowels of his spurs into the
sides of his horse, fled like the wind, and as he fled, gave
362
MARGUERITE DE VAEOIS.
those words of advice to La Mole and Coconnas which we
have mentioned.
But the king, perceiving the absence of Henry and Margue-
rite, had arrived, escorted by D'Alen^n, to see them both come
from the hut, where he had desired all to be shut up who were
found, not only in the pavilion, but in the forest.
D'Alengon, full of confidence, galloped close by the king,
whose excessive pain increased his ill humour. Twice or thrice
he had nearly fainted, and once had vomited blood.
" Quick, quick !" he said, when he arrived. " Make haste ;
I want to return to the Louvre. Draw these rebels out of their
lair. This is Saint Blaise's day, and he was cousin to Saint
Bartholomew."
At these words of the king, all the pikes and arquebusses
were in motion, and they compelled the Huguenots arrested in
the forest or the pavilion to come out of the hut one after the
other. But the King of Navarre, Marguerite, and De Mouy
were not amongst them.
" Well," said the king, " where is Henry—where is Margot?
You promised them to me, D'Alengon, and, corbtzuf! I must
have them found."
" We have not seen the King and Queen of Navarre, sire,"
said M. de Nancey.
"But here they come," observed Madame de Nevers.
And at the same moment, at the further extremity of an
alley which led down to the river, appeared Henry and Mar-
guerite, both as calm as if nothing had happened; both with
their falcons on their wrist, and lovingly side by side on their
horses, as they galloped along, whilst their steeds, like them-
selves, seemed to be caressing each other.
It was then that D'Alengon, furious, commanded the forest to
be searched, and that La Mole and Coconnas were discovered.
They had reached the circle which the guards closed in; only,
as they were not sovereigns, they could not assume so cool an
appearance as Henry and Marguerite. La Mole was too pale,
and Coconnas was too red.
THE EXAMINATIONS.
CHAPTER LII.
the examinations.
The spectacle which presented itself to the friends, as they
entered, was one of those that, once seen, is never forgotten.
As we have already said, Charles had anxiously observed each
prisoner as, one by one, they left the piqueur's hut, watching,
with an earnestness equal to that felt by D'Alentjon, to see the
King of Navarre come forth.
Both were doomed to disappointment; but, though thus out
in their calculation, there'still remained something to be done,
and that was to find the cause of those being absent they counted
upon finding there.
When, therefore, Henry and Marguerite were seen approach-
ing from the end of an alley, a mortal paleness seized D'Alen^on,
while the breast of Charles seemed relieved from a load, and
his heart beat with a hope that his .friend Harry might yet dis-
prove all that had been urged against him.
" He will escape again !" murmured Francois.
But at this moment the king was seized with such excrucia-
ting pains, such spasmodic agony throughout his frame, that,
pressing a hand on each side, he shrieked aloud like a delirious
man.
Henry hastened towards him, but by the time he had tra-
versed the short space that separated them, the paroxysm had
passed away.
" From whence come you ?" inquired the king, with a stern-
ness of manner that frightened Marguerite.
"Nay, brother," replied she, as though the question had been
applied to herself; "we have been joining in the chase."
" Had it been so, you would have pursued the river's side,
instead of seeking the recesses of the forest."
" Sire," said Henry, " my falcon suddenly struck down a
pheasant, at the very time we had stopped to look after the
heron."
" Have you the bird ?"
" Behold it, sire—as fine a bird as I have seen !" replied
Henry, with the most perfect air of well-assumed innocence, as
he held up his beautiful prize.
" Ah, ah !" exclaimed Charles; "but why did you not rejoin
me when you had secured the pheasant ?"
364
■MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Because the bird had directed his flight towards the park,
sireg so that when we returned to the river's side, we saw you
more than a mile off proceeding towards the forest. Therefore,
having been permitted to join your majesty's chase, we did not
like being thrown out, and proceeded to gallop after you as fast
as we could."
"And were all these gentlemen invited also?" inquired
Charles.
" What gentlemen ?" inquired Henry, casting a look of inquiry
around him.
"Pardieu/" exclaimed Charles; "why, your Huguenot friends.
All I can say is, that they certainly cannot boast of my invita-
tion to join our sport."
" Probably, sire," answered Henry, " they come at the bidding
of M. d'Alenqon."
"I ?" said the Duke d'Alengon.
" Why, yes, brother," returned Henry; " did you not announce
yourself yesterday as King of Navarre ? What can be more
natural than that the grateful people have assembled here to
thank you for accepting the crown, and the king for giving it ?
Is it not so, gentlemen ?"
"Yes, yes !" shouted forth a number of voices. "Long live
the Duke d'Alencon ! long live King Charles !"
"I am not king of the Huguenots !" said Frangois, perfectly
white with rage; and, looking stealthily at Charles, he added,
"and trust I never shall be !"
"No matter," interposed Charles; "but you must be very
sure, Henry, that I look upon all this as very strange."
"Sire," cried the King of Navarre, firmly, "heaven pardon
me for saying such a thing, but most persons would say I was
undergoing an examination."
" And if it were so, how would you answer ?"
" That I am a king like yourself," replied Henry, proudly;
" for it is not the crown, but birth, that confers royalty; and
that, though I would cheerfully answer any questions asked by
my friend and brother, I should peremptorily refuse to reply to
my judge."
" I only wish," muttered Charles, " that for once in my life
I could hit upon what it was right to do."
" M. de Mouy is doubtless among those persons secured,"
cried the Duke d'Alengon. " Let him be brought before your
majesty; we shall then know all we require."
THE EXAMINATIONS.
365
" Is M. de Mouy among the prisoners ?" inquired the king.
Henry felt a momentary uneasiness, and exchanged glances
with Marguerite 3 but it was quickly dispersed.
No voice answered to the inquiry after De Mouy.
" That individual is not among the parties arrested," said M.
de Nancey 3 "some of my men fancy they saw him, but no one
is certain on the subject."
An oath escaped from the lips of D'Alen^on.
" Ha 1" cried Marguerite, pointing to La Mole and Coconnas,
who had heard all that had passed, and on whose wit and in-
telligence she felt sure she might reckon 3 " here, sire, are two
gentlemen in the service of M. d'Alen5on 3 question them—
they will reply to you."
The duke felt the blow.
" I had them arrested purposely, to be enabled to prove that
they neither of them belonged to me," answered the duke.
The king contemplated the two friends, and started at seeing
La Mole again.
" What! that Provencal here ?" said he, frowning.
Coconnas bowed most respectfully.
" What were you doing when you were arrested ?" asked
Charles.
" Sire, myself and friend were busily engaged planning deeds
of love and war."
■" What, with horses ready saddled, armed to the teeth, and
every preparation made for flight ?"
" Not so, sire ! replied Coconnas 3 " your majesty is misin-
formed on this subject. We were lying beneath a sheltering
beech, sub tegmine fagi, and might easily have ridden away had
we entertained the slightest suspicion that we had been so un-
fortunate as to offend your majesty. Now, gentlemen," con-
tinued he, turning towards the light horsemen, " say, candidly
and fairly, on your honour as soldiers, could we or could we
not have escaped, had such been our desire ?"
" Truth compels me to declare," answered the lieutenant,
" that neither of these cavaliers made the slightest attempt at
flight." " Because, in all probability, their horses were too
far off," chimed in the Duke d'Alentjon.
"Your pardon, my lord duke," responded Coconnas, "but
our horses could scarcely be nearer than they were—I being
upon mine, and M. de la Mole holding his, in the very act of
mounting."
366
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"Is this correct ?" inquired the king.
" Perfectly so," replied the lieutenant; " and more, upon
seeing us approach, M. de Coconnas got off his horse."
Coconnas looked at the king with a sort of grim smile, that
seemed to say, " There, you see !"
" But what did all those led horses, those mules laden with
cases and packages, signify, then ?" demanded Francjois.
" How can we tell you ?" replied Coconnas ; " we are neither
grooms nor squires. Ask these questions of the varlet who had
charge of them."
" He is not to be found !" exclaimed the duke, almost frantic
with rage.
" Most likely he was frightened, and ran away," retorted
Coconnas ; " one cannot expect a clown to have the notions or
manners of a gentleman."
" Still the same system," said D'Alentjon, gnashing his teeth;
" fortunately, sire, I told you beforehand that neither of these
persons had been in my service for some days past."
" Is it possible," cried Coconnas, " that I have the misfortune
no longer to form part of your highness's retinue ?"
" Morbleu ! monsieur, why affect ignorance on this subject,
when you yourself gave in your dismissal in a letter so imper-
tinent that I have thought proper to preserve it, and happily
have it about me."
" I confess," said Coconnas, " I had flattered myself with the
hope of being forgiven for writing that letter, under the first in-
fluence of vexation at learning that your highness had endea-
voured to strangle my friend La Mole in one of the corridors
of the Louvre."
" What is that he says ?" interrupted the king.
" At first I thought your highness was alone in the affair;
but afterwards I learned that three other persons "
"Silence!" exclaimed Charles, "we have heard enough."
Then, turning to the King of Navarre, he said, " Henry, your
word not to escape."
" I give it to your majesty."
" Return to Paris with M. de Nancey, and remain in your
chamber under arrest. As for you, messieurs," continued he,
speaking to the two friends, "give up your swords."
La Mole looked at Marguerite, who smiled; the young man
immediately delivered his sword to the nearest officer, Coconnas
following his friend's example.
THE EXAMINATIONS.
367
" Has M. de Mouy been found ?" inquired the king.
"No, sire," answered M. deNancey; "either he was not in
the forest, or he has escaped."
"So much the worse," rejoined Charles; "but let us return
to Paris. I am cold, and my head seems dizzy."
" 'Tis anger that excites you, sire," observed Frangois.
" It may be; but my eyes seem troubled. Where are the
prisoners ? I cannot distinguish anything. Is it so soon dark ?
. Oh, mercy ! help—help—I die !—I die !"
So saying, the unfortunate king let go the reins of his horse,
and fell backwards, wildly stretching forth his hands; while his
terrified courtiers, alarmed at this sudden seizure, prevented
him from falling.
Standing apart from the clustering nobles, Frangois wiped the
cold drops from his brow; for he alone of all the company knew
the cause of Charles's violent attack.
The king was now quite insensible. A litter was brought,
and he being extended on it, was covered with a cloak taken
from the shoulders of one of his attendants.
The melancholy procession then proceeded towards Paris, in
a very different frame of mind to that in which it had departed
thence in the morning. Then, a merry, jocund party had set
forth, consisting of conspirators whose hearts beat high with
hope, and a joyous monarch, promising himself many such days
of princely enjoyment: their return displayed a dying king sur-
rounded by rebel prisoners.
Marguerite, who throughout all this had not for an instant lost
her self-possession, gave her husband a look of intelligence, then,
passing so close to La Mole that he was enabled to catch the
two brief words she uttered, she said :
"Me deide." ("Fear nothing.")
" Now, gentlemen," exclaimed the captain of light horse, " we
are ready to start."
" Would it be a liberty," inquired Coconnas, " to ask where
we are going to ?"
" I believe to Vincennes," replied the lieutenant.
" I would rather be going anywhere else," answered Cocon-
nas ; " but people are sometimes obliged to do things against
their will."
The king recovered his senses during the journey, and even
a portion of his strength : he declared himself equal to remount-
ing his horse, but that was not permitted.
368
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" Let Maitre Ambroise Pare be immediately summoned," said
Charles, as he reached the Louvre. Then, descending from his
litter, he walked slowly towards his apartments, leaning on the
arm of Tavannes, and strictly forbidding any persons following
him.'
All had observed his extreme gravity of look and manner.
During the journey homewards, he had appeared lost in reflec-
tion, not addressing a word to those around him. Still it was
evident, that the recently discovered conspiracy formed no part
of his thoughts, but that he was solely occupied with his own
illness—a malady so strange, so sudden and severe, and the
symptoms of which reminded the spectators of those visible in
the last sickness of Francis II.
Arrived at his chamber, Charles seated himself" on a species
of chaise-longue, and supported his head on the cushions: then,
reflecting that there might be some little delay ere the arrival
of Maitre Ambroise Pare, he determined to employ the inter-
mediate space as well as he could. He clapped his hands—a
guard appeared.
" Let the King of Navarre be informed I desire to speak with
him," said Charles.
The man bowed, and departed.
Again was the king visited by a repetition of the distressing
sufferings he had previously undergone; his head fell back;
his ideas seemed crowded and confused, till he could not sepa-
rate one from the other ; a sort of blood-coloured vapour seemed
to float before his eyes; his mouth was parched, and _he fruit-
lessly sought to slake the burning thirst by which he was con-
sumed by swallowing the contents of a carafe of water.
During the almost lethargic state into which Charles had
sunk, a sudden noise was heard of approaching footsteps; the
door rolled back on its hinges, and Henry stood before him.
" You sent for me, sire," said he. ".I am here."
The sound of the well-known voice effectively roused Charles,
who, raising his languid head mechanically, held out his hand
to Henry.
" Sire," observed Henry, whose arms hung beside him, with-
out any attempt to imitate the offered cordiality on the part of
the king, "your majesty forgets that I am no longer your brother,
but your prisoner."
" True, true," answered Charles, " and I thank you for having
reminded me of it; but was there not also some promise on
THE EXAMINATIONS.
369
your part, when we last spoke together, to answer me candidly
whatever questions I might put to you ?"
" I did so pledge myself to your majesty, and I am ready to
keep my word."
The king poured some water into the palm of his hand and
applied it to his temples.
" First, then," said he, " tell me truly, Henry, how much of
the charge brought against you by the Duke d'Alenijon is cor-
rect ?"
" Half of it. It was M. d'Alentjon who was to have fled, and
I who was to have accompanied him."
" And why should you have done so, Henry ? Are you dis-
satisfied with my conduct towards you ?"
" Far from it, sire. Your majesty is all goodness; and that
God, to whom the secrets of all men's hearts are known, knows
well how truly and affectionately I love and honour my king
and brother."
"Yet," said Charles, "methinks 'tis not usual to fly from
those we love, and who love us."
"Your majesty is right in so believing; but 'twas not from
those I loved I sought to escape, but from such as hated me,
and desired my ruin. Am I permitted to speak openly ?"
" You are—proceed."
" The persons whose animosity I dreaded and wished to fly
from were M. d'Alen^n and the queen-mother."
" As for M. d'Alengon, I will not say you are wrong; but the
queen-mother loads you with attentions."
" And 'tis precisely for that reason I mistrust her; and a
very good thing it is I was on my guard."
"Against the queen-mother?"
"Ay, the queen-mother, or those who are about her. Now,
will your majesty tell me as candidly as I have answered the ques-
tions put to me, whether my life is of any value in your eyes ?."
" I should be miserable if any harm were to befall you."
" Well, then, I can assure your majesty you have twice very
narrowly escaped being made miserable on my account. Twice
has Providence interposed in my behalf. Certainly, upon one
occasion Providence thought fit to assume the features of your
majesty."
"And who was your preserver upon the other occasion ?"
" A very unlikely person to be selected as a providential agent
for good : no other than Rend"
24
370
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" And what did he for you ?"
" He saved me from poison."
" You have all the luck, Harry!" murmured poor Charles,
faintly smiling • but the feeble attempt was quickly dispelled
by the sharp spasmodic contraction of returning suffering.
The king wiped his brow, and signed to Henry to proceed.
" Well, sire," said Henry, " have I spoken out as boldly as you
desired ? Is there anything else you are desirous of questioning
me upon ?"
" Harry, you are a good and faithful fellow. Tell me this—
do you apprehend any further attempts on your life or honour
on the part of your enemies ?"
" I can but assure you, that when evening comes, I am always
surprised to find myself still in existence."
" It is because they see I love you, they are thus bitter : but
make yourself quite easy. They shall meet with their just reward;
meanwhile, you are free." -
"To quit Paris ?" asked Henry.
" No, no ! You are well aware I cannot possibly do without
you. Mille noms (Pun diable / I must have some one to love
me, surely."
" Then if your majesty prefers keeping me with you, at least
grant me one favour."
" What is that ?"
"Not to entertain me as a friend, but to detain me as a
prisoner."
" A prisoner, Harry !"
" Nay, does not your majesty see plainly enough that it is
your friendship that brings all my troubles and disasters on me ?"
" And you would prefer my hatred ?"
" I would only desire your feigned dislike, sire. An outward
manifestation of displeasure on your part will save me from any
further persecution from those who will esteem me of too little
consequence to merit their hostility, directly they believe you
have disgraced and dismissed me from favour—but your ma-
jesty is still suffering from your recent attack; I can perceive
the efforts you are making to conceal it. Permit me to summon
the necessary aid."
" I have sent for Maitre Ambroise Pare."
"Then I shall retire more satisfied."
" Upon my soul," said the king, " I verily believe you are the
only person in the world who really loves me !"
THE EXAMINATIONS.
371
" Is such your opinion, sire ?"
" It is, on the word of a gentleman."
" Then I pray you to commend me to the strict keeping of
M. de Nancey, as a man your extreme anger may doom to death
ere a month is past. By that means you will have me to love
you for many years."
" M. de Nancey!" cried Charles. The captain of the guards
entered. " M. de Nancey," said Charles, " I here commit to
your keeping the most guilty man in my kingdom; you will
answer for him with your life."
The officer bowed low; and with a well-feigned air of con-
sternation, Henry followed his self-solicited keeper from the
apartment.
CHAPTER LIII.
actveon.
Charles was alone, and much astonished not to have seen one
or other of his faithful attendants—his nurse Madeleine and his
greyhound Actseon.
" Nurse has gone to sing her psalms with some Huguenot
of her acquaintance," he said to himself; " and Actseon is still
angry with me for the blow I gave him with my whip this
morning."
Charles then took a wax candle, and went into the nurse's
apartment: she was not there, and he passed on into his
armoury ; but as he went forward, one of those agonies he had
already experienced, and which came on him suddenly, seized
him. He suffered as if his entrails were perforated with a
hot iron; an unquenchable thirst consumed him, and seeing a
cup of milk on the table, he swallowed it at a draught, and then
felt somewhat easier, and entered the armoury.
To his great astonishment, Actseon did not come to meet him
—had he been shut up ? In that case, he would have known
that his master had returned from hunting, and howled to rejoin
him.
Charles called—whistled—the animal did not appear.
He advanced four paces, and as the light of the wax candle
threw its beams to the angle of the cabinet, he saw, in the corner,
a large mass extended on the floor.
" Halo ! Actseon, halo !" said Charles, whistling again.
24—2
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
The dog never stirred; Charles hastened forward, and touched
him : the poor brute was stiff and cold. From his throat, con-
tracted by pain, several drops of humour had fallen, mingled
with a foamy and bloody slaver. The dog had found in the
cabinet an old cap of his master's, and had died with his head
resting on something that represented a friend.
At this spectacle, which made him forget his own sufferings,
and restored him to all his energy, rage boiled in Charles's
veins : he would have cried out, but, encompassed in their
greatness as they are, kings are not free to yield to that first
impulse which every man turns to the profit of his passion or his
defence: Charles reflected that there might be some treason
here, and was silent.
Then he knelt before his dog, and examined the dead carcase
with an experienced eye. The eye was glassy, the tongue red,
and covered with pustules; it was a strange disease, and made
Charles shudder.
The king put on his gloves, opened the livid lips of the dog
to examine the teeth, and remarked, in the interstices, some
white-looking fragments clinging about the points of his sharp
teeth. He took these fragments out, and at once recognised
that they were paper; near where the paper was, the inflamma-
tion was more violent, the gums more swollen, and the skin as if
eaten by vitriol.
Charles looked around him attentively. On the carpet were
lying several pieces of paper similar to that which he had already
recognised in the dog's throat; one of the bits, larger than the
others, presented the marks of an engraving on wood. Charles's
hair stood erect on his head; he recognised a fragment of the
engraving which represented a gentleman hawking, and it was
that which Actseon had torn out of the book.
"Ah," said he, turning pale, " the book was poisoned !" Then,
suddenly calling up his recollections, " Mille demons / I touched
every page with my finger, and at every page I raised my finger
to my lips to moisten it. These faintings—these agonies—
these vomitings !—I am a dead man !"
Charles remained for an instant motionless under the weight
of this frightful idea; then, raising himself with a hoarse groan,
he went hastily towards the door.
" Let some one go instantly, and with all despatch," he cried,
"to Maitre Rene, and bring him here in ten minutes. IfMaitre
Ambroise Pare arrives,' desire him to wait."
ACTION.
373
A guard went instantly to obey the king's commands.
"Ah," muttered Charles, "if I put everybody to the tor-
ture, I will learn who gave this book to Harry !" and with the
perspiration on his brow, his hands clenched, his breast heaving,
Charles remained with his eyes fixed on the body of his dead
dog. Ten minutes afterwards, the Florentine rapped timidly at
the door. " Enter !" said Charles.
The perfumer appeared, and Charles went up towards him
with an imperious air and compressed lip.
" Your majesty desired to see me," said Rene, trembling.
" Yes ; you are a skilful chemist, are you not ?"
" Sire "
" And know all that the most skilful doctors know ?"
"Your majesty is pleased to flatter me."
" No, my mother tells me so ; and, besides, I have confidence
in you, and had rather consult you than any one else. Look !"
he continued, pointing to the carcase of the dead dog; " I beg
you to look at that animal's mouth, and tell me of what death
he has died."
Whilst Rene, with a wax candle in his hand, was stooping
down to the ground, as much to hide his emotion as to obey
the king, Charles, standing up, with his eyes fixed on him,
awaited with a feverish expectation, easily to be imagined, the
reply, which would be his sentence of death or his assurance of
safety.
Rene drew a kind of scalpel from his pocket, opened it, and,
with the point, detached from the dog's throat the morsels of
paper adhering to the gums, looking long and attentively to the
humour and blood which distilled from each wound.
" Sire," he said, in a tremulous voice, " here are very sad
symptoms."
Charles felt an icy shudder run through his veins, and to his
very heart.
" Yes," he exclaimed, " the dog has been poisoned, has he
not ?"
" I fear so, sire."
" And with what sort of poison ?"
"I think a mineral poison."
" Can you ascertain to a certainty whether or not he has been
poisoned ?"
« Yes, on opening and examining the stomach."
(i Open it, then, as I wish to be assured on the point."
374
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"I must call some one to assist me."
" I will assist you," said Charles; " and if he has been
poisoned, what symptoms shall we find ?"
"Red blotches and herborizations in the stomach."
" Come, then, to work !"
Rene, with one stroke of the scalpel, opened the hound's body,
whilst Charles, with one knee on the ground, lighted him with
clenched and convulsive hand.
" See, sire," said Rene; " see, here are certain marks; here
are the red blotches I mentioned, and these veins, turgid with
blood, like the roots of certain plants, are what I meant by
herborizations. I find here every symptom I anticipated."
" And the dog is assuredly poisoned ?"
" Unquestionably, sire."
" With mineral poison ?"
"According to every appearance."
" And what would be a man's symptoms, who by accident
had swallowed such poison ?"
" Great pains in the head, a feeling of burning in the stomach,
as if he had swallowed hot coals, pains in the bowels, and
vomiting."
" Would he be thirsty ?" asked Charles.
" Parchingly thirsty."
" 'Tis so, then—'tis so, then," muttered the king; and aloud
he asked, " What is the antidote to administer to a man who had
swallowed the same substance as my dog ?"
Rene reflected an instant. " There are many mineral
poisons," he replied, " and I should like to know precisely
which your majesty means. Has your majesty any idea of the
mode in which the poison was conveyed to the dog ?"
" Yes," said Charles; " he has eaten the leaf of a book."
" The leaf of a book ?" " Yes."
"And has your majesty got that book?"
" Here it is," was Charles's answer, taking the hunting-book
from the shelf where he had placed it, and handing it to Rend,
who gave a start of surprise, which did not escape the king.
"He has eaten a leaf of this book?" stammered Rene.
" Yes, this one and Charles pointed out the torn leaf.
" Allow me to tear out another, sire."
" Do so."
Rene tore out a leaf, held it in the wax candle, and when it
caught light, a strong smell of garlic diffused itself through
ACTION.
375
the apartment. " He has been poisoned with a preparation of
arsenic," he said.
" You are sure ?" "As if I had prepared it myself."
" And the antidote ?" Ren£ shook his head.
" What!" said Charles, in a hoarse voice, " do you know no
remedy ?"
" The best and most efficacious is white of eggs beaten in
milk ; but " " But what ?"
" It must be instantly administered; if not "
" If not " " It is a subtle poison, sire," replied Rene.
" Yet it does not kill at once," said Charles.
"No, but it kills surely : no matter as to the length of time
the person is in dying, though sometimes that may be reduced
to a calculation."
Charles leaned on the marble table. "Now," said he,touch-
ing Ren£ on the shoulder, " you know this book."
" I, sire !" replied Rene, turning pale.
" Yes, you ; for you betrayed yourself as you looked at it."
" Sire, I swear to you "
" Listen to me, Rene, and listen attentively. You poisoned
the Queen of Navarre with gloves ; you poisoned the Prince de
Porcian with the smoke of a lamp; you tried to poison M. de
Conde with a scented apple. Rene, I will have your flesh torn
off" your bones, shred by shred, with red-hot pincers, if you do
not tell me to whom this book belongs."
The Florentine saw that he must not trifle with Charles's
anger, and resolved to reply with audacity.
" And if I tell the truth, sire, who will guarantee me from not
being more cruelly tortured than if I hold my tongue ?"
" I will." " Will you give me your royal word?"
" On my honour as a gentleman, your life shall be spared,"
said the king. " Then this book belongs to me."
" To you ?" replied Charles, starting, and gazing on him with
bewildered eye. "Yes, to me."
" And how did it leave your hands ?"
"Her majesty the queen-mother took it from my house."
"The queen-mother ?" exclaimed Charles. "Yes."
" And with what intention ?"
" With the intention, as I believe, of having it sent to the
King of Navarre, who had inquired of the Duke d'Alengon for
a book of this description to study hawking from."
" Ah !" said Charles, " and is that it ? I understand it all.
376
MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
This book, indeed, was in Harry's chamber. There is a destiny,
and I submit to it."
At this moment, Charles was seized with a cough so dry and
violent as to agonise him, and bring on a fresh attack of pain in
the stomach; he uttered two or three stifled groans, and fell
into a chair. " What ails you, sire ?" asked Rene, alarmed.
"Nothing," said Charles, "except great thirst. Give me
something to drink."
Rene poured out a glass of water, and presented it to Charles,
who swallowed it at a draught.
"Now," said he, taking a pen, and dropping it into the ink,
" write in this book."
" What shall I write ?" " What I dictate : ' This book on
hawking was given by me to the queen-mother, Catherine de
Medicis. Rene.'"
The Florentine wrote and signed as he was commanded.
" You promised my life should be saved," said Rene.
" And on my part I will keep my word."
" But," said Rene, " as to the queen-mother !"
" Oh," replied Charles, " that I have nothing to do with. If
you are attacked, defend yourself."
" Sire, may I quit France when I find my life menaced ?"
" I will reply to that in fifteen days hence; in the mean-
time "
And Charles frowningly placed his finger on his livid lips.
" Rely on me, sire," said Rene, who, too happy to escape so
well, bowed, and left the room.
Behind him the nurse appeared at her chamber door.
" What is the matter, my Chariot ?" she inquired.
"Nurse, I have been walking in the dew, and it has given me
cold." "You look very pale, Chariot."
" And feel very weak. Give me your arm, nurse, and help
me to bed ;" and leaning on her, Charles went to his chamber.
"Now," said Charles, " I will put myself to bed."
" And if Maitre Ambroise Pare comes ?"
" You must tell him I am better, and do not want him."
" But, meanwhile, what will you take ?"
" Oh, a very simple medicine—whites of eggs beaten in milk.
By the way, nurse, poor Actseon is dead; to-morrow morning
have him buried in a corner of the garden of the Louvre; he
was one of my best friends, and I will raise a tomb over him,
if I have time."
VINCENNES.
371
CHAPTER LIV.
vincennes.
According to the order given by Charles IX., Henry was the
same evening conducted to Vincennes, that famous castle of
which only a fragment now remains, but colossal enough to give
an idea of its past grandeur.
At the postern of the prison they stopped. M. de Nancey
alighted from his horse, opened the gate closed with a padlock,
and respectfully invited the king to follow him. Henry obeyed
without a word of reply. Every abode seemed to him more safe
than the Louvre, and ten doors closing on him at the same time,
were between him and Catherine de Medicis.
The royal prisoner crossed the drawbridge between two sol-
diers, passed the three doors on the ground-floor and the three
doors at the foot of the staircase, and then, still preceded by
M. de Nancey, went up one flight of stairs. Arrived there,
Captain de Nancey requested the king to follow him through a
kind of corridor, at the extremity of which was a very large and
gloomy chamber.
Henry looked around him with considerable disquietude.
" Where are we ?" he inquired.
" In the chamber of torture, monseigneur."
" Ah, ah !" replied the king, looking at it attentively.
There was something of everything in this apartment: pitchers
and trestles for the torture by water ; wedges and mallets for the
question of the boot; moreover, there were stone benches for
the unhappy wretches who awaited the question, nearly all round
the chamber; and above these seats, and to the seats themselves,
and at the foot of these seats, were iron rings, morticed into the
walls with no symmetry but that of the torturing art.
" Ah, ah !" said Henry, " is this the way to my apartment?"
" Yes, monseigneur, and here it is," said a figure in the dark,
who approached and then became distinguishable.
- Henry thought he recognised the voice, and advancing to-
wards the individual, said : " Ah, is it you, Beaulieu ? And
what the devil do you do here ?"
"Sire, I have been nominated governor of the fortress of
Vincennes." " Well, my dear sir, your d£but does you
honour; a king for a prisoner is no bad commencement."
" Pardon me, sire, but before I received you I had already
378
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
received two gentlemen." "Who may they be? Ah, your
pardon ! Perhaps I commit an indiscretion?"
" Monseigneur, I have not been bound to secrecy. ' They ar£
M. de la Mole and M. de Coconnas."
" Poor gentlemen! ' And where are they ?"
" High up; on the fourth floor."
Henry gave a sigh. It was there he wished to be.
"Now, then, M. de Beaulieu," said Henry, "have the kind-
ness to show me my chamber. I am desirous of reaching it, as
I am very much fatigued with my day's toil."
" Here, monseigneur," said Beaulieu, showing Henry an open
door. "No. 2 !" said Henry, " and why not No. i ?"
" Because it is reserved, monseigneur."
"Ah, that is another thing," said Henry, and he became even
more pensive. He wondered who was to occupy No. i.
The governor, with a thousand apologies, installed Henry in
his apartment, made many excuses for his deficiencies, and
placing two soldiers at the door, retired.
" Now," said the governor, addressing the turnkey, " let us
visit the others."
The turnkey preceded him, and traversing the Salle de Ques-
tion, they again passed the corridor, and reaching the staircase,
M. de Beaulieu followed his guide up three pair of stairs. On
reaching the fourth story, the turnkey opened successively three
doors, each ornamented with two locks and three enormous
bolts. He had scarcely touched the third door than they heard
a joyous voice, which exclaimed :
" Eh, mordi ! open, if it be only to give us a little air ! Your
stove is so warm, that it stifles me here."
" One moment, my gentleman," said the turnkey; " I have
not come to let you out, but to come in to you with the
governor."- " M. the Governor does me great honour," re-
plied Coconnas, " and is most welcome."
M. de Beaulieu then entered, and answered Coconnas's cor-
dial smile by one of those icy politenesses which belong to
governors of fortresses, jailers, and executioners.
" Have you any money, sir ?" he inquired of his prisoner.
" I ?" replied Coconnas. " Not a crown."
" Jewels ?" " I have a ring."
"Allow me to search you."
"Mordi/" cried Coconnas, reddening with anger.
" We must suffer everything for the service of the king !"
V1NCENNES.
379
" Humph !" replied the Piedmontese, " they who rob on the
Pont-Neuf are, then, like you, in the service of the king. Mordi !
I have been very unjust, sir; for until now I had taken them
for thieves."
"Sir, good day !" said Beaulieu. "Jailer, lock the door !"
The governor went away, taking with him the ring, a beautiful
sapphire which Madame de Nevers had given to Coconnas to
remind him of the colour of her eyes.
" Now for the other," he said, as he went out.
They crossed an empty apartment, and the game of three
doors, six locks, and nine bolts, was played all over again. The
last door being opened, a sigh was the first sound that saluted
the visitors. The chamber was. even more gloomy than the one
which M. de Beaulieu had just quitted. La Mole was seated in
a corner, his head resting on his hand, and in spite of the visit
and the visitors, was as motionless as if he did not observe them.
" Good evening, M. de la Mole," said Beaulieu.
The young man raised his head slowly.
" Good evening, sir," he replied.
" Sir," continued Beaulieu, " I have come to search you."
" It is useless," replied La Mole ; "I will give you all I have."
" What have you ?"
"About three hundred crowns, these jewels, these rings."
La Mole turned out his pockets, stripped his fingers, and took
the clasp out of his hat.
" Have you nothing more ?"
"Not that I know of."
"'And that silk cord round your neck, what may that be?"
asked the governor. " Sir, it is not a jewel; it is a relic."
"You must give it to me."
" Really, do you require it ? Well then, sir, here it is."
Then turning away, as if to approach the light, he unfastened
the pretended relic, which was in fact a medallion containing a
portrait. The latter he took out of its case, pressed it to his
lips, and having kissed it many times, pretended to drop it ac-
cidentally, and placing the heel of his boot upon it, crushed it
to atoms.
"Sir," said Beaulieu, when he saw the miniature literally
ground to dust, " I shall complain of this to the king."
And without taking leave of his prisoner in a single word, he
withdrew so angry that he left the turnkey to fasten the doors.
The jailer advanced a few paces, and observing that M. de
38O
MARGUERITE DE FA LOIS.
Beaulieu had already descended several stairs, he said, turning
to La Mole:
" Ma foi / sir, it was very well you gave me the hundred
crowns at once, for which I am to give you leave to see and
talk with your companion; for if you had not, the governor
would have taken them with the other three thundred, and my
conscience would then not have allowed me to do anything for
you ; but I have been paid in advance, and have promised you
shall see your comrade, and an honest man always keeps his
word : only, if you can avoid it, for your own sake as well as
mine, do not talk politics."
La Mole came forth from his apartment, and found himself
face to face with Coconnas, who was walking up and down the
flags of the intermediate chamber. The two friends threw them-
selves into each other's arms. The jailer pretended to wipe the
corner of his eye, and then withdrew, to watch that the prisoners
were not surprised, or rather, himself not suspected.
" Ah, 'tis you, then !" said Coconnas. " Has that brute of
a governor visited you ?" " Yes, and you too, I presume?"
"And taken everything from you?"
" And from you too, eh ?"
" Oh, I had not much—only a ring Henriette gave me."
" Have you any idea what has happened ?"
" Perfectly; we have been betrayed." "By whom ?"
" By that scoundrelly Duke a'Alengon. I should have been
right to twist his neck, you see."
" And do you think our position is serious ?"
"I am afraid so."
" Then we may have to anticipate the torture ?"
" I have already thought so."
" And what shall you do in that case ?" " And you ?"
" I shall be silent," replied La Mole, with a fevered blush,
"if I can." "And I," said Coconnas, "will tell them a few
things they do not expect."
" What things ?" asked La Mole, eagerly.
" Oh, be easy—things that will prevent M. d'Alen$on from
sleeping quietly for some time."
La Mole was about to reply, when the jailer, who no doubt
heard some noise, came suddenly into the chamber, and pushing
each into his respective dungeon, locked them in again.
THE FIGURE OF WAX.
381
CHAPTER LV.
the figure of wax.
For a week Charles was confined to his bed by a slow fever,
interrupted by fits like epilepsy. During these attacks his cries
were terrible; then, when they were over, he sank back
exhausted into the arms of his nurse. Henry was shut up in
his chamber at the prison, and, at his own request to Charles,
no one was allowed to see him, not even Marguerite. Catherine
and D'Alengon thought him lost: Henry himself ate and drank
more at his ease, hoping he was forgotten. At court no one
suspected the real cause of the king's illness. Maitre Ambroise
Pare and Mazille, his colleague, believed it to be inflammation
of the coats of the stomach, and had prescribed a regimen
which aided the operation of the drink prescribed by Rend, and
which Charles received thrice a day from the hands of his
nurse : it was the only nourishment he took.
La Mole and Coconnas were at Vincennes in close confine-
ment. Marguerite and Madame de Nevers had made several
attempts to see them or to send them a letter, but in vain.
One morning Charles felt rather better, and ordered the
court should be admitted. The doors were accordingly opened,
and it was easy to see, by his pale cheeks and the feverish glare
of his eyes, what great ravages disease had made on the young
king.
Catherine, D'Alen<jon, and Marguerite were informed that
the king gave audience. They all three entered at a short
interval one after the other : Catherine calm, D'Alengon
smiling, Marguerite dejected: Catherine sat down by the side
of the bed without remarking the look Charles gave her;
D'Alencjon stood at the foot; Marguerite leaned against a
table. On seeing her brother thus worn by illness, she could
not repress a sigh and a tear.
Charles, whom nothing escaped, saw the tear and heard the
sigh, and made a motion of his head to Marguerite, unseen by
all but her. This sign, slight as it was, gave courage to the
poor queen, to whom Henry had not had time, or perhaps had
not chosen, to say anything. She feared for her husband, she
trembled for her lover. For herself she had no fear ; she knew
La Mole too well not to feel that she might fully rely upon him.
(t Well, my dear son," said Catherine, " how are you now?"
382
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Better, madame, better."
" And what say the physicians ?"
" Oh, my physicians, they are very clever fellows," cried
Charles, bursting into a discordant laugh; " I have great
amusement in listening to their discussions about my malady."
" What my brother wants," observed Francois, " is to take
the fresh air. The chase, which he is so fond of, would do him
good."
" And yet," replied Charles, with a singular smile, " the last
did me a great deal of harm."
Then, with an inclination of his head, he signified to the
courtiers that the audience was at an end. D'Alengon bowed
and withdrew. Marguerite seized Charles's wasted hand and
kissed it tenderly, then left the apartment. " Dear Margot!"
murmured Charles.
Catherine remained ; and Charles, seeing her alone with him,
recoiled as if from a serpent. He knew to whom and to what
his death was attributable. "Why do you stay, madame?'
asked he with a shudder.
"I wish to speak to you of important matters, my son,"
returned Catherine. " Speak, madame," said Charles.
"Sire, you said just now your doctors were very skilful."
"I say so still." "Well—I suspect that, clever as they
are, they know nothing at all about your disorder."
" Really, madame ?" " And that they treat the symptoms,
instead of treating the cause."
" On my soul," replied Charles, astonished, "I think you are
right!" " Well, my son," continued Catherine, " as it is
essential for my happiness and for the welfare of the kingdom
you should be cured as speedily as possible, I have assembled
all the men skilled, not only in curing the diseases of the body,
but those of the mind."
" What was the result ?" " That which I expected; I
have the remedy that will cure not only your body, but your
mind."
Charles trembled; he thought that his mother intended to
give him a fresh poison, finding the first too slow in operation.
" Where is this remedy ?" asked he.
"In the disease itself."
" Where is that situated ?"
" Listen, my son," said the queen. " Did you never hear of
secret enemies, who from a distance assassinate their victim."
THE FIGURE OF WAX.
383
u By steel or poison ?" demanded Charles, without changing
the expression of his countenance.
" My son," asked the Florentine, " do you believe in magic ?"
" Fully," returned Charles, repressing a smile of incredulity.
"Well, then," continued Catherine, " from magic proceed all
your sufferings. An enemy, who dared not attack you openly,
has done so in secret; a terrible conspiracy, the more terrible
that it was without accomplices, has been directed against your
majesty."
" Oh, oh," said Charles.
"You doubt it, perhaps ; but I know it for a certainty."
" I never doubt what you tell me," replied the king, sar-
castically. " I am curious to know how they have sought to
kill me."
" By magic."——" Explain yourself."
" If the conspirator I mean, and whom your majesty suspects
already in your mind, had succeeded, there would have been
no trace, but happily your brother watched over you."
" What brother ?" " D'Alen§on."
" Ah ! true," said Charles, with a bitter laugh, " I forgot I
had a brother. Well, continue, madame."
" He fortunately discovered the clue to the conspirator."
"Ah ! I suppose you mean the King of Navarre, mother?"
replied Charles, wishing to see how far her dissimulation
would go.
Catherine hypocritically cast down her eyes.
"I have had him arrested and sent to Vincennes for his
escapade," continued the king. " Is he more culpable than I
suspected, then ?"
" Do you feel the fever that consumes you?" asked Catherine,
"Yes," replied Charles, his brow darkening.
" Do you feel the fire that burns your stomach ?"
" Aye, madame." " Do you feel the shooting pains in
your head ?"
" Yes : how exactly you understand the symptoms."
" Well, look here." And she drew from under her mantle
a little figure. The figure was of yellow wax, about ten inches
high, clothed in a robe covered with golden stars, also of wax,
and over this a royal mantle of the same material,
" What is this statue ?" asked Charles.
" See what it has on the head," said Catherine.
" A crown," replied Charles,
3§4
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" And in the heart " "A needle."
"Well " "Well, do you recognise yourself?"
" Myself!"
" Yes, in your royal robes, with the crown on your head."
" And who made this figure ?" asked the king, weary of the
miserable farce. " The King of Navarre, of course."
" No, sire." " No; then I do not understand you."
" I say 7io," replied Catherine, " because you may ask the
question literally; had you put it in a different manner, I should
have answered yes."
Charles made no answer.
" Sire," continued she, "this statue was found by the attorney-
general, Laguesle, in the apartment of the man who led a horse
for the King of Navarre on the day of the hawking party."
" M. de la Mole?" " Himself. Now look at the needle
in the heart, and the name written on the label attached to it."
" I see an M," returned Charles.
"That means 1 mort; it is the magic formula."
" So, then, the person who seeks to kill me is M. de la Mole?"
said Charles. "Yes, he is the poniard; but behind the
poniard is the hand that directs it."
"This, then, is the cause of my illness ? What must now be
(done ? for you know that, unlike you, I know nothing of charms
and spells." "The death of the conspirator destroys the
charm. Its power ceases with his life."
p" Really." " Did you not know that ?"
" I am no sorcerer." " But now you are convinced, are
you not, of the cause of your illness ?"
"Completely." "You do not say so out of complaisance?"
" Oh, no ! from the bottom of my heart."
" Heaven be praised," said Catherine.
" Yes, Heaven be praised," repeated Charles, ironically. " I
know the cause of my illness, and whom to punish."
" And you will punish "
" M. de la Mole; you say he is the guilty party."
" I say he is the instrument." " Well, we will begin with
him, and if he has an accomplice, he will confess."
" If he does not," muttered Catherine, " I have infallible
means of making him. You will then, sire, permit the process
to commence?"
" I desire it, madame, and the sooner the better."
Catherine pressed her son's hand, not at all understanding
THE FIGURE OF WAX.
385
the nervous pressure with which he returned it, and left the
apartment without hearing his sardonic laugh, or the terrible
imprecation which followed that laugh. At this moment he
heard a rustling noise, and, turning round, saw Marguerite lifting
the tapestry of the door of the nurse's apartments.
" Oh, sire, sire !" cried Marguerite, " you know what she says
is false "
"She! Who?" said Charles.
"Oh, Charles ! it is terrible to accuse one's mother; I knew
she was staying only to persecute him; but I swear to you, by
all I hold sacred, that what she says is false."
" Whom does she persecute ?" " Henry, your own Henry,
who loves you, and is devoted to you."
" You think so, Margot?" "I am sure of it."
"And so am I." "Why, then, did you arrest him, and
send him to Vincennes ?" said Marguerite.
" Oh, he has singular ideas; perhaps he is wrong, perhaps he
is right; but he thought he should be more safe in disgrace than
in favour, at Vincennes than in the Louvre, and so he asked me
to arrest him."
" Is he safe ?" " As safe as a man can be, for whose life
Beaulieu answers with his own."
" Oh, thanks ! but " "But what?"
"There is another person in whose welfare I am interested."
" Who is this person ?"
" Sire, spare me; I scarce dare name him to my brother,
much less to my king." " M. de la Mole, is it not ?"
" Alas ! sire, you wished once before to kill him, and he only
escaped by a miracle."
" He had committed but one crime then, now he has com-
mitted two." " Ah ! he is not guilty of the second."
" But do you not know what our mother says ?"
" I have already told you what she says is false."
" Do you not know that a figure dressed in royal robes, and
pierced to the heart, has been seized at De la Mole's ?"
" I know it, but it was the figure of a woman, not of a man."
" And the- needle "
" Was a charm to make himself beloved by a woman, not to
kill a man."
" What was the name of this woman ?"
"Marguerite!" cried the queen, casting herself at Charles'
bedside, and bathing his hand with tears.
25
386
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Silence, Margot," said Charles, " you may, in your turn, be
overheard."
" Oh, no matter !" cried the queen. " If all the world were
present to hear me, I would declare it infamous^ to abuse the
love of a gentleman by staining his reputation with a charge of
murder."
" What if I knew the real author of the crime?"
" Brother " " That it was not La Mole."
" You know then " " The real author of the crime."
'•'There has been a crime committed, then?" "Yes."
" Impossible !" " Look at me."
Marguerite obeyed, and shuddered as she saw him so pale.
" I have not three months to live !"
" You, my brother !" " Margot, I am poisoned !"
Marguerite screamed.
" Silence," said Charles; " it must be thought I die by magic."
" You know who is guilty." " Yes."
" Who is it ? D'Alenc,on ?" " Perhaps."
" Or," Marguerite whispered, as if alarmed at what she was
going to say, " our mother ?"
Charles remained silent. Marguerite, however, read the
answer in his eye, and sank into a chair.
" My God !" murmured she. " It is impossible !"
" Impossible?" said Charles. " It is a pity Rene' is not here."
"Rene ?"
" Yes; he would tell you all about it: 'twas a book he lent
to his mistress that was poisoned, and that has poisoned me.
But this must be hidden from the world, and that it may be so,
it must be believed I die of magic, and by the agency of him
they accuse."
" But it is monstrous !" exclaimed Marguerite. " Pardon !
pardon ! You know he is innocent!"
" I know it, but the world must believe him guilty. Let your
over die : his death alone can save the honour of our family.
I myself die that the secret may be preserved."
Marguerite saw her only hope lay in her own resources, and
withdrew, weeping. Meantime, Catherine had lost not an
Instant, but had written to Laguesle the following historical
letter, which we give word for word, and which throws a con-
siderable light on this bloody drama :
" M. le Procureur,—I have this evening been informed for
certain that La Mole has committed sacrilege; many ill books
THE INVISIBLE BUCKLERS.
387
and papers have been found in his apartments in Paris; see,
therefore, the chief president, and inform him of the whole
affair; of the waxen figure meant for the king, and which they
have pierced to the heart.
" Catherine."
CHAPTER LVI.
the invisible bucklers.
The day after that on which Catherine had written this letter,
the governor entered Coconnas's cell with an imposing cortege
of two halberdiers and four black-gowned men.
Coconnas was invited to descend into the room where Laguesle
and two judges waited to interrogate him, according to Gather-
ine's instructions.
During the eight days he had passed in prison, Coconnas had
reflected deeply; besides that, he and La Mole, seeing each
other daily, had agreed on the conduct they were to pursue,
which was to persist in an absolute denial, and they were per-
suaded that with a little address the affair would take a more
favourable turn. Coconnas was ignorant that Henry was in the
same prison with themselves, and the complaisance of his jailer
told him that over his head there was extended protection,
which he called " invisible bucklers."
Up to this time, the interrogations had been confined to the
designs of the King of Navarre, his projects of flight, and the
part the two friends had borne in these projects. Coconnas
had constantly replied in a way more than vague, and much
more than adroit, and he was ready still to reply in a similar
manner, and had prepared beforehand all his little repartees,
when he suddenly found the object of the interrogatory to be
altered.
It was now directed to several visits made to Rend, and one
or more waxen figures made at La Mole's instigation. Prepared
as he was, Coconnas believed that the accusation had lost much
of its intensity, since it was no longer in reference to having
betrayed a king, but to having made a figure of a queen, and
this queen not more than from eight to ten inches high at most.
He therefore replied with much vivacity, that neither he nor
his friend had played with a doll for many years; and he saw,
25—2
388
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
with much satisfaction, that his replies more than once made
the judges laugh. His interrogatory concluded, he went up to
his chamber singing so merrily, that La Mole, for whom he
made all this noise, drew from it the brightest auguries.
La Mole was brought down from his tower, as Coconnas had
been, and saw with equal astonishment the fresh turn which the
investigation took. He was questioned as to his visits to Rend
He replied that he had only once visited the Florentine. Then,
if he had not ordered a waxen figure He replied, that Rene
had showed him such a figure, ready-made. Then he was
asked if this figure did not represent a man. He replied, that
it represented a woman. Then, if the purpose of the charm
was not to cause the death of this man. He replied that the
purpose of the charm was to cause himself to be beloved by the
woman.
These questions, put in a hundred different ways, were always
replied to by La Mole in the same manner. The judges looked
at each other with a kind of indecision, not knowing very well
what to say or do, when a note brought to the attorney-general
solved the difficulty. It was thus couched : " If the accused
denies, put him to the torture.—C."
The attorney put the note in his pocket, smiled at La Mole,
and politely dismissed him. La Mole returned to his dungeon
almost as assured, if not as joyous, as Coconnas.
" I think all will now go well," be said.
An hour afterwards, he heard footsteps, and saw a note which
was slipped under his door, without seeing the hand that did it.
He took it up with a trembling hand, and almost died with joy
as he recognised the writing.
" Courage !" said the billet. " I am watching over you."
"Ah! if she is watching," cried La Mole, kissing the billet
which had touched a hand so dear, " if she is watching, I am
saved !"
It is necessary, in order that La Mole should comprehend the
purport of the note, and rely, with Coconnas, on what the Pied-
montese called his " invisible bucklers," that we should conduct
the reader to that small house, to that small chamber, where so
many tender recollections, so many bitter feelings, were agoniz-
ing the heart of a female, lying back on a divan covered with
velvet cushions.
"To be a queen—powerful, young, rich, beautiful—and suffer
what I suffer !" exclaimed she; " oh, it is horrible !"
THE INVISIBLE BUCKLERS.
389
Then, in her agitation, she rose, paced up and down, sud-
denly paused, pressed her burning forehead against the ice-cold
marble, rose, pale and her face covered with tears, wrung her
hands in agony, and fell back, fainting, into the nearest chair.
Suddenly the tapestry which separated the apartment in the
Rue Cloche-Perc^e from the apartment in the Rue Tizon was
lifted up, and the Duchess de Nevers appeared.
" Ah !" exclaimed Marguerite, " is it you ? With what impa-
tience I have awaited you. Well, what news ?"
" Bad news—bad news, my dear friend ! Catherine herself is
hurrying on the trial, and is at this moment at Vincennes."
" And Rene?" " Is arrested."
" And our dear prisoners ?"
" The jailer informs me that they see each other daily. The
day before yesterday they were searched, and La Mole broke
your miniature to atoms rather than let them have it."
" Dear La Mole !"
" Annibal laughed in the teeth of the inquisitors."
" Worthy Annibal! And what more ?"
" They were this morning interrogated as to the flight of the
king, his projects of rebellion in Navarre; and they said not one
word."
" Oh, I knew they would keep silence; but silence will kill
them just as much as if they spake."
"Yes, but we must save them."
" You have thought over our plan, then ?"
"I have occupied myself with it since yesterday."
" Well ?" " I have come to terms with Beaulieu. Ah, my
dear queen, what a hard and greedy man ! It will cost a man's
life and three hundred thousand crowns."
" Only the life of a man and three hundred thousand crowns !
Why, it is nothing !"
" Nothing? Why, it will cost us all our jewels at least."
" Oh, that's nothing ! The King of Navarre will pay some-
thing, the Duke d'Alentjon pay something, my brother Charles
must pay something, or if not "
" Oh, do not trouble yourself; I have the money, or at least
three diamonds that will produce it, and the man."
" The man !—what man ?"
" The man who must be killed, to be sure. Have you already
forgotten that there is a man to be killed ?"
" And you have found the man you wanted ?"
39°
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
"Precisely so."
" At the same price ?" asked Marguerite, with a smile.
" At that price I could have found ten," replied Henriette;
" no, no, for five hundred crowns."
" Really !" " Now listen ; this is the plot. The chapel is
the only place in the fortress where women not being prisoners
are admitted. We shall hide behind the altar; under the cloth
will be laid two daggers. The door of the sacristy will be pre-
viously opened. Coconnas will strike the jailer, who will fall
down as if dead; we shall then appear, and each cast a cloak
over the shoulders of our friend. We shall then fly with them
by the small door of the sacristy, and, as we shall have the pass-
word, we shall get out without difficulty."
" And once out?" "Two horses will be in waiting at the
door: they will jump on them, leave France, and reach Lor-
raine, whence they will occasionally return incognito."
" Oh, you restore me to life," said Marguerite. " Thus, then,
we shall save them."
"I feel almost confident." "And soon?"
" In three or four days; Beaulieu is to let us know."
" But if you were recognised in the environs of Vincennes,
all our plans might be marred."
" How could any one recognise me ? I go as a nun, with a
large hood over my face ; and no one would ever recognise the
end of my nose."
" We cannot take too many precautions."
" I know that well enough, Mordi! as my poor dear Annibal
says."
" Have you any news of the King of Navarre ?"
" Yes, he was never happier, it appears—laughs, sings, and
eats, drinks, and sleeps well; all he asks is to be well guarded."
"He is right."
" Adieu, Marguerite ! I am going to take the field again."
"Are you sure of Beaulieu ?" " I think so."
" Of the jailer ?" " He has promised."
"Horses?" "The best in the Duke de Nevers' stables."
" Henriette, I adore you !" And Marguerite threw her arms
around her friend's neck; after which the two women separated,
promising to see each other again next day and every day, at
the same place and hour. They were the two charming and
devoted creatures whom Coconnas, with so much reason, called
the "invisible bucklers."
THE TRIAL.
391
CHAPTER LVII.
the trial.
" Well, my brave friend," said Coconnas to La Mole, when
left together at the close of their examination, " everything seems
going on as favourably as we could desire it, and we shall ere
long be at liberty."
"No doubt," answered La Mole; " and then the complaisance
with which our jailers treat us abundantly proves that our noble
friends are at work for us."
"To be sure they are," rejoined Coconnas; " and how could
a queen or a princess better employ their riches than in procuring
our freedom ? Now let us go over our lesson a little. We are
to be conducted to the chapel, where we shall be left in charge
of our turnkey; we each of us find a dagger concealed for our
use in a spot described to us. Well, then I manage to inflict a
severe-looking, but in reality innocent wound, on our guard, to
make it appear we, being two, overpowered him. The next
thing, we barricade the door of the chapel by piling up the
benches against it, while our two princesses emerge from their
hiding-places behind the altar, and Henriette opens the small
side-door!"
" And then," exclaimed La Mole, in accents of delight, " we
rush forth, and exchange our gloomy prison for the fine fresh
air. A couple of vigorous horses are in waiting for us; a hasty
embrace with our fair preservers, and away we go to Lorraine.
True, I could have wished to be banished to Navarre, for that
is her home; but as things are, we must be content at Nancy,
which is but fifty leagues from Paris."
" But what ails you, my friend ?"
" Nothing—merely an idea that came across me."
" I should think not a very agreeable one, by your becoming
so pale." " I was wondering within myself why we were
taken to the chapel at all."
" Why," said Coconnas, "to pray, of course—what else ?"
" But," answered La Mole, " it is only customary for those
who have undergone the torture or are condemned to death to
pass the night in the chapel."
" Truly," replied Coconnas, becoming pale in his turn, "this
deserves our attention; let us speak to the worthy fellow I am
to carve my name upon with my dagger.—Here, I say, turnkey !"
392
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S
" Did you call ?" said the man, who had been keeping watch
at the top of the stairs.
"We want to know whether it is not arranged for us to escape
from the chapel ?"
" Hush !" said the turnkey, looking round him with terror.
" Don't be frightened—no one can hear you; speak out."
"Yes, you will be conducted to the chapel, according to the
custom that all persons condemned to death shall pass the night
previous to their execution in prayer."
Coconnas and La Mole exchanged looks of surprise and alarm.
" You expect, then, that we shall be condemned to death?"
" Why, you think so yourselves, don't you ? else why take the
trouble to make arrangements for your flight ?"
" There is reason in what he says," said Coconnas.
"We are playing a critical game, it seems," replied La Mole.
"And do I risk nothing?" said the jailer. "Suppose, in the
excitement of the moment, you were to wound me in the wrong
place, strike your dagger an inch or two deeper than you in-
tended !"
"Mordi/" exclaimed Coconnas, "I only wish we could change
places, and I had nothing more to fear than you have. But
hark ! I fancy some one is approaching."
" Oh, pray, pray gentlemen, get into your cells—make haste!"
"And when will our trial take place?"
" To-morrow at latest, but don't be uneasy; the friends who
are interested for you shall be duly informed."
" Then let us bid adieu to each other for the present, and to
these detested walls for ever!"
The friends exchanged an affectionate embrace, and each re-
tired to his place of confinement—La Mole sighing, Coconnas
humming an air. Nothing unusual occurred until seven o'clock
in the evening. Night descended, dark and rainy, on the donjon
of Vincennes; just such weather as would have favoured an
escape. Coconnas' supper was brought, and eaten with his or-
dinary appetite; and he had well nigh composed himself to
sleep, while listening to the loud murmurs of the wind, and the
splashing rain as it drove heavily against the walls, when he was
roused by a sound of persons passing to and fro from the cham-
ber of La Mole.
In vain did Coconnas strain his listening powers—he could
distinguish nothing. The time passed on—no person came near
him. " Strange," murmured he, " that La Mole should receive
THE TRIAL.
393
so many visits, while I seem quite forgotten ! perhaps La Mole
felt himself suddenly taken ill, and called out for assistance. What
can it mean ?"
An hour and a half was thus consumed in vainly watching for
some clearance to this mystery, and Coconnas was beginning to
feel both angry and sleepy, when the sudden turning of the lock
made him spring to his feet.
" All's right," said he, mentally; " they are coming, no doubt,
to conduct us to the chapel, without any previous condemna-
tion. Mordithe night is most favourable—dark as a pit ; I
only hope the horses they give us will be able to find their way."
He was about to ask some jocular question of the turnkey,
who had by that time entered, when he observed the man put
his finger to his lips, and roll his great eyes in a most significant
manner.
Coconnas then perceived a dim outline of persons following
the jailer, and quickly distinguished two figures wearing hel-
mets, on which the candle, smoking and flickering in the strong
current of air rushing up the staircase, cast a reflection.
" Hallo, hallo !" exclaimed he ; " what is the meaning of all
this ?—where are we going to ?"
The jailer replied only with a sigh, which resembled a groan.
" Follow the halberdiers, sir," said a voice, which at once
made Coconnas aware that the soldiers were accompanied by an
officer of some kind.
" And where is M. de la Mole ?" inquired the Piedmontese;
" what has become of him ?"
" Follow the halberdiers !" repeated the same voice that had
previously issued the same command.
Further remonstrance was unavailing; without another word,
therefore, Coconnas began to descend the spiral staircase. At
the first-floor the guards stopped ; the door was opened, and a
number of persons arrayed as judges and seated in judicial
order presented themselves, while in the background Coconnas
discerned the dim outline of a man with naked arms and a look
that made a cold dew start to his forehead.
Still concealing his alarm, he entered the chamber with an
easy, degagee air, his head thrown a little on one side, and his
hand on his hip, after the most approved manner of court gal-
lants. As Coconnas advanced, he perceived La Mole sitting
on a bench near the judges and officials. The guards led
Coconnas to the front of the tribunal; arrived there, he stopped,
394
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
turned round, and smilingly nodded to La Mole; then re-
mained in close attention to the proceedings of the court.
"What is your name?" inquired the president
" Marc Annibal de Coconnas," replied the Piedmontese, with
gentlemanly grace, " Count of Montpantier, Chenaux, and other
places; but I presume you don't wish to know all that."
" Where were you born ?"
" At Saint Colomban, near Suza."
" How old are you ?"
"Twenty-seven years and three months."
" Good !" answered the president.
" He seems to be pleased with my account of myself," mur-
mured Coconnas.
"Now, then," continued the president, "what was your mo-
tive in quitting the service of the Duke d'Alengon ?"
"To rejoin my friend, M. de la Mole, who, when I quitted
M. d'Alencon, had also left him some days."
" And what were you doing when arrested, the day of the
chase at Saint-Germains ?"
" Why, hunting, of course !" replied Coconnas.
" The king was also present at that chase, and there he was
first seized with violent illness."
" I know nothing about that; I was not near the king myself,
and I did not even know he had been taken ill."
The judges regarded each other with an air of incredulity.
" Oh ! you were ignorant of his majesty's illness, were you ?"
"Yes, completely so, and I regret to hear of it; for though
the King of France is not my king, I still pity him, and feel for
him very much."
" Really ?"
" On my honour I do. I don't say as much for his brother,
the Duke d'Alencon, for there, I must confess "
"We have nothing to do with the Duke d'Alengon; ourbusi-
ness is with his majesty "
" Whose very humble servant I have already told you I am,"
answered Coconnas.
" Then, being his servant, as you say, be pleased to tell us
what you know relative to a certain wax figure."
" Oh ! what, we are going over that story again, are we ?"
" If you have no objection."
" Pardi / on the contrary, I prefer it—go on."
" How came this statue to be found in M. de la Mole's pos-
session ?"
THE TRIAL.
395
" M. de la Mole's ! No, no, you mean in Rent's possession."
" Then you acknowledge the existence of such an image ?"
"I don't know whether it exists or not—I could tell you
better if I saw it."
" Here it is. Is it the one you have previously seen ?"
" It is."
" Write down," said the judge, " that the accused recognises
the statue as the one he has heretofore seen in the possession
of M. de la Mole."
"No, no, no!" interposed Coconnas, "do not let us mistake one
another; write that I say it is the same figure I saw at Rent's."
" Well, be it so—at Rent's, and on what day ?"
"The only day La Mole and myself ever were at Rent's."
"You admit, then, having been there with M. de la Mole?"
" Why, I never denied it, did I ?"
"Write down that the accused admits having gone to Rene's
to work certain charms and conjurations "
" Stop, if you please, M. le President, and moderate your en-
thusiasm a little—I said no such thing."
"You deny having gone to Rene's house, for the sake of
charms and magical purposes ?"
"I do ; the conjuration that took place was by chance, and
wholly unpremeditated."
" But still it took place ?" " Certainly ; I cannot deny that
something resembling the working of a charm did occur."
" Write down that the accused admits having gone to Rene's,
for the sake of obtaining a charm against the king's life."
" The king's life !" exclaimed Coconnas ; " 'tis a base lie ; no
such charm was ever made or sought for."
" There, gentlemen !" said La Mole, " you hear !"
" Silence !" vociferated the president; then, turning towards
the clerk, he said, " Against the king's life. Have you written
it ?" " No, no !" cried Coconnas, " I said no such thing, and
then the figure is not that of a man, but of a woman."
" What did I tell you, gentlemen ?" inquired La Mole.
" M. de la Mole," said the president, " reply when you are
questioned, but do not interrupt the interrogatory of others."
"You say that the figure is that of a female?" resumed the
judge. " Of course I do."
" Why, then, does it wear a royal crown and mantle ?"
" Fardieu / for a very simple reason—because the figure was
meant for "
396
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
Here La Mole rose, and placed a finger on his lips.
" True !" said Coconnas, " I was beginning to relate matters
with which these gentlemen have nothing at all to do."
"You persist, then, in your assertion, that this waxen image
was intended to represent a woman ?"
" Certainly, I do persist in stating the truth."
" And you refuse to say who the woman was ?"
"A female in my own country," said La Mole, "whom I
loved, and by whom I was desirous of being beloved."
"You are not the person interrogated, M. de la Mole," ex
claimed the president; " either be silent, or I shall be obliged
to have you gagged."
" Gag a gentleman, and my friend, merely for speaking—can
it be possible that I hear aright ?—for shame ! for shame !"
" Bring in Rene !" said the attorney-general.
"Yes, yes, by all means, fetch Rene," said Coconnas, "fetch
him, pray; we shall soon see who is right then."
Rene entered, pale, shrunken, and so altered, that the two
young men seemed scarce to recognise him. The wretched old
man appeared more conscience-stricken and bowed down by
the weight of the crime he was about to commit, than by those
he had already perpetrated.
" Maitre Rene!" said the judge, " do you know the two
accused persons here present ?" " I do," answered Rene,
in a voice which betrayed his emotion.
" As having seen them where ?"
" In various places, but more especially at my own house." ,
" How frequently at your house?" " Only once."
As Rene proceeded, the countenance of Coconnas grew
brighter; La Mole, on the contrary, as though warned by some
presentiment of evil, looked graver than before.
" And on what occasion did they pay you a visit ?"
Rene seemed to hesitate a moment, then said :
"To order me to make a small waxen figure."
"Maitre Rene," interrupted Coconnas, "permit me to tell
you, you are making a little mistake."
i " Silence, I .'command !" cried the president; then, turning
towards Rene, he said, " and pray was this figure to represent a
man or a woman ?"
" A man !" answered Rene.
Coconnas sprung up as though he had received an electric
shock. " A man, do you say ?" asked he.
THE TRIAL.
397
" A man !" responded Rene, but in so feeble a voice that the
president could scarcely hear him.
" And why was this statue clad in a royal mantle, with a
crown on its head ?"
"Because," replied Rend, "it represented a king."
" Infamous liar !" cried Coconnas, perfectly infuriated.
" Hold your peace, Coconnas," interposed La Mole, " every
man has a right to sell his soul his own way; let the wretched
being say what he chooses."
" Ay, but he has no right to destroy the bodies of others
while he barters his own soul!" answered Coconnas.
" And what is the signification of the needle found sticking
in the heart of the image, with a small banner bearing the letter
m at the end ?"
"The needle is emblematical of the sword or dagger, and the
letter m stands for mort."
Coconnas sprung forward as though to strangle Rene, but was
held back by the guards.
"That will do!" said the officer; "the tribunal is in pos-
session of all it desires to know. Let the prisoners be re-con-
ducted to the waiting-room."
" Buq" exclaimed Coconnas, " it is quite impossible to hear
one's self accused of such crimes without protesting against them."
" Protest as much as you like, gentlemen, no person hinders
you.—Guards, take the prisoners away."
The officials seized upon La Mole and Coconnas, and led
them away, each by a separate door. The attorney-general then
signed to the man with bare arms, whom Coconnas had
observed on entering, and said :
" Do not go away, my good fellow, there will be work for you
ere the night is over."
"Which shall I begin with?" said the man, respectfully
raising his cap.
"With that one !" answered the president, pointing to La
Mole, whose shadow could just be discerned between his two
guards; then, approaching Rene, who stood in trembling ex-
pectation of being ordered back to his place of confinement in
the Chatelet: " You have well spoken, my friend; be under
no alarm, both the king and the queen shall be made acquainted
that it is to you they will be indebted for coming at the real
truth of this affair."
But this promise, instead of inspiring Rene with fresh hope,
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
seemed but to augment his alarm, and he replied only by a
deep sigh, almost resembling the groan of one in pain.
CHAPTER LVIII.
the torture of the boot.
It was only when again conducted to his chamber, and the
door secured on him, that Coconnas, no longer sustained by
the altercation with the judges, fell into a train of reflections.
" It seems to me," thought he, " matters are going against us.
They really wish to cut off our heads. I think it is time to go
to the chapel."
These words, pronounced in a low tone, were cut short by a
cry so shrill, so piercing, that it seemed impossible it could pro-
ceed from a human being, for it penetrated through the thick
wall, and vibrated against the iron bars.
Coconnas shuddered with terror, although he was so brave
that his courage was nearly allied to that of wild beasts. He
stood motionless, doubting whether what he had heard was not
the wind, when he heard it again; and this time he was con-
vinced not only that the voice was human, but that it was the
voice of La Mole. At this voice, the Piedmontese forgot he was
himself a prisoner confined by two doors, three gates, and a
wall twelve feet thick ; he rushed forward, crying, " They are
murdering some one here !"
But he encountered the wall so violently, that the shock
threw him back on a stone bench.
" Oh, they have killed him !" repeated he ; " it is abominable,
and without arms."
He looked about on every side for a weapon.
At this moment the door opened, and the same voice that
had been before so disagreeable to him, said:
" Come, sir, the court attends you."
" Good !" said Coconnas ; " to hear my sentence, I suppose."
"Yes, sir."
" I breathe again—go on, sir." And he followed the officer,
who marched in front, his black wand in his hand.
Spite of his expressed satisfaction, Coconnas glanced anxiously
on either side. " Oh," murmured he, " I do not see my worthy
jailer; I wish he was here."
THE TORTURE OF THE BOOT.
399
On entering the chamber, Coconnas perceived the attorney-
general, who had conducted the prosecution with most palpable
animosity, for Catherine had charged him to carry on the affair
earnestly. A curtain was drawn back, and exposed the recesses
of this chamber : so terrible were these recesses, thus lighted
up, that Coconnas felt his knees tremble, and he exclaimed,
" Oh, mon Dieu /"
The sight before him was indeed alarming. The portion of
the apartment which had been concealed during the exami-
nation by a curtain, now raised, seemed like the vestibule of
hell. " Oh !" said Coconnas, " the chamber of torture is pre-
pared, and only awaits the victim. What does this mean ?"
" Kneel down, M. Annibal de Coconnas," thundered a voice;
" kneel down, and hear your sentence."
And before he had time even to collect his thoughts, two
strong hands laid hold of him, and forced him to his knees.
The voice continued : " Sentence of the court sitting at
Vincennes on Marc Annibal de Coconnas, accused and con-
victed of the crime of high treason, of an attempt to poison, of
sacrilege and magic against the person of the king, of a con-
spiracy against the state, and of having driven a prince of the
blood into rebellion by his pernicious counsels^'
At each fresh charge, Coconnas kept shaking his head very
determinately.
The judge continued : " In consequence of which, the afore-
said Marc Annibal de Coconnas will be taken from prison to
the Place St.-Jean-en-Greve, to be there decapitated, his pro-
perty confiscated, his woods cut down, his chateaux destroyed ;
and a post, with a copper-plate bearing an inscription recording
his crime and punishment, planted there."
" As for my head," said Coconnas, " that I know is in
jeopardy; but as for my woods and chateaux, I do not fear for
them in the least, and I defy all your hatchets and pickaxes to
harm them."
" Silence !" said the judge, and he continued :
" And, moreover, the aforesaid Coconnas "
" What !' interrupted Coconnas, " will they do anything
more after cutting my head off ?—that is very cruel!"
"No, monsieur," replied the judge, " before."
He continued : " And the aforesaid Coconnas will undergo,
before the execution of this sentence, the extraordinary question,
consisting of ten wedges."
400
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
Coconnas sprang to his feet, and fixing his eyes with a wither-
ing expression on his judges, "For what?" cried he.
This torture was, in reality, ruin to Coconnas' hopes. He
would not be taken to the chapel until after the torture, and
the torture often occasioned death; for it was held to be a
proof of cowardice to confess, and the torture was therefore the
more severe in proportion to the patient's obstinacy.
The judge made no reply, but continued, " In order to
compel the aforesaid Coconnas to avow who were his accom-
plices.
" Mordi /" cried Coconnas, "this is infamous—this is cow-
ardice !"
The judge, accustomed to the indignant protestations of the
victims, made a sign. Coconnas, seized by the legs and arms,
was overpowered and bound to the rack, before he could even
see who were the authors of this violence.
" Wretches!" shouted Coconnas, straining the cords that
bound him so violently, that his tormentors retreated in alarm.
"Cowards! do your worst; I defy you to extract one word
from me. It is not the torture that can make one of my race
speak."
" Greffier, prepare to write," said the judge.
"Yes, prepare to write," cried Coconnas; "and if you write
all I tell you, you scoundrel, you will have something to do."
" Will you confess ?" asked the judge. " Never !"
"You had better reflect whilst it is yet time. Executioner,
make ready."
At these words, a man holding a cord in his hand advanced
towards him. It was Maitre Caboche. Caboche, without
moving a muscle of his face, or affecting to recognise Coconnas,
placed two planks between his legs, then two more outside,
and bound them together with a cord.
This formed what was called the " boot."
In the " ordinary" question, six wedges were used, which
crushed the flesh: in the "extraordinary" question ten were
employed, which not only crushed the flesh, but broke the
bones also.
Maitre Caboche introduced the wedge between the planks,
and then, with his mallet in his hand, looked at the judge.
" Will you confess ?" asked the latter.
" Never!" returned Coconnas, although he felt a cold damp
all over his brow.
THE TORTURE OF THE BOOT.
401
"Proceed," said the judge.
Caboche raised his heavy mallet, and struck a tremendous
blow on the wedge. Coconnas did not utter the slightest sound
at this first wedge, which usually extorted a groan from the
most resolute. On the contrary, his countenance expressed the
greatest wonder, and he gazed in astonishment at Caboche, who,
his arm raised, stood ready to repeat the blow.
" What was your intention in concealing yourself in the
forest ?" demanded the judge.
"To enjoy the fresh air."
" Proceed," said the judge.
Caboche struck again. Coconnas did not stir, but kept his
eyes fixed on the executioner with the same expression of sur-
prise. The judge frowned.
" He is indeed determined !" muttered he; " has the wedge
entered, maitre ?"
Caboche stooped, as if to examine it, and whispered Cocon-
nas, " Cry out! cry out!" Then rising, " Up to the head, sir,"
said he to the judge.
" Second wedge !" was the reply.
The words of Caboche explained all to Coconnas; the
worthy executioner was rendering him the greatest service in his
power : he was sparing him not only pain, but, moreover, the
shame of a confession, by driving, in place of oak wedges,
wedges of leather, with the top only of wood ; and further, he
thus left him all his strength to mount the scaffold manfully.
" Oh, excellent Caboche !" muttered Coconnas, " fear no-
thing; I will cry out loud enough."
Caboche had introduced a second wedge, larger than the first,
and, at a sign from the judge, struck as if he were going to de-
molish the donjon of Vincennes at a blow.
" Ah ! ah !—hou ! hou !" roared Coconnas, " you are break-
ing my bones !"
" Ah," said the judge, " the second seems to take effect.
What were you doing in the forest?"
" I have already told you."
" Proceed."
" Confess," whispered Caboche.
" What ?" " Anything—only confess."
And he dealt another blow on the wedge.
"Oh, oh!" cried Coconnas, "you wish to know by whose
order I was in the forest ?"
26
402
MARGUERITE EE VALOIS.
" Yes."
" By the order of M. d'Alentjon."
"Write that," said the judge.
"If I laid a snare for the King of Navarre," continued Co-
connas, " I only obeyed my master's orders."
" Ah, you denounced me, tallow-face !" thought Coconnas;
" I will be even with you."
And he related all the visits of Francois to the King of Na-
varre, the interviews between De Mouy and D'Alen<jon, and the
history of the red mantle. He gave precise, terrible, incontest-
able evidence against D'Alenfjon, making it seem all the while
as though his statements were only extorted from him by the
pain, he yelled, screamed, and foamed so naturally; and the
judge at last became terrified himself at having to record details
that so fearfully compromised a prince of the blood.
"Ah," said Caboche, "this gentleman gives the greffier
enough to do. What would he have said, if the wedges had
been of wood ?"
-The judge retired, excusing Coconnas the other wedges in
consequence of his confession, and Caboche was left alone with
Coconnas.
"Well," said he, "how do you find yourself, sir ?"
"Ah, excellent Caboche, I will never forget what you have
done for me!"
"You are right; for if they knew what I have done for you,
I should soon take your place, and they would not amuse me
with leathern wedges."
" But how came you to think ?"
" I will tell you," said Caboche, twisting, for the sake of ap-
pearances, bandages of bloody linen about Coconnas' legs ;
" I knew you were arrested, that Queen Catherine wished to kill
you, and I guessed you would be put to the question, and I
took my measures accordingly."
" At the risk of what might happen to yourself?"
" Sir," replied Caboche, " you are the only gentleman who has
ever given me his hand, and I wished to prove to you that, execu-
tioner as I am, I have a heart: you shall see how I will perform
my office to-morrow."
" To-morrow ?"
"Yes."..
" What office ?"
Caboche stared.
THE TORTURE OF THE BOOT.
403
" Have you forgotten the sentence ?"
" Ah, true, I had forgotten all about that."
He had not forgotten it, but he was thinking of the chapel,
the knife concealed beneath the napkin, of Henriette and the
queen, of the door of the sacristy, the two horses that awaited
them; of liberty, of the fresh air, and happiness and security
beyond the bounds of France.
" Now," said Caboche, " I must get you from the rack to the
litter. Do not forget both your legs are broken, and that the
least movement pains you."
" Ah ! oh !" cried Coconnas, as the two assistants advanced.
"Take courage," said Caboche; "if you cry so now, what
will you do presently ?"
" Maitre Caboche," replied Coconnas, " I pray you lift me
yourself, as I do not wish your two estimable acolytes to
touch me."
" Place the litter near the rack," said Caboche.
The two assistants obeyed.
Caboche then raised Coconnas in his arms as if he had been
an infant, and placed him on the litter.
The jailer then appeared with a lantern.
"To the chapel," said he.
The bearers and Coconnas started, after Coconnas had again
given his hand to Caboche.
The former grasp had been too useful to him not to induce
him to repeat it.
CHAPTER LIX.
the chapel.
The mournful cortege crossed, in perfect silence, the two draw-
bridges of the fortress and the courtyard which leads to the
chapel, through the windows of which a pale light coloured the
figures of the men in red robes.
Coconnas eagerly breathed the night air, although it was
heavy with rain. He looked at the darkness, and rejoiced to
see that everything conspired to favour the flight of himself and
his companion. On entering the chapel he saw in the choir,
and at three paces from the altar, a mass of something wrapped
in a large white mantle. It was La Mole.
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Since we are once more re-united," said Coconnas, in a
voice of affected languor, " carry me to my friend."
La Mole was gloomy and pale; his head reclined against the
marble wall, and his black hair, bathed with profuse perspira-
tion, which gave to his countenance the paleness of ivory,
seemed to have preserved the form it had assumed after having
been stiffened on his head with the pain.
On a signal from the turnkey, the two valets went to seek the
priest whom Coconnas had asked for.
This was the signal agreed upon.
Coconnas followed them with his eyes with anxiety; but his
was not the only ardent look fixed on them. Scarcely had they
disappeared than two women rushed from behind the altar, and
hastened rapidly towards the choir.
Marguerite hurried towards La Mole and seized him in her
arms. La Mole uttered a piercing shriek—one of those cries
which Coconnas had heard in his dungeon.
" Mon Dieu! what ails thee, dear La Mole ?" inquired
Marguerite. " Oh, Heaven ! you are all blood !"
Coconnas, who had also rushed towards the altar, taken up
the dagger, and had his arm round Henriette's waist, turned
suddenly.
" Get up," said Marguerite ; "get up, I entreat you ! You
see the moment has arrived."
A terrible smile of grief passed over La Mole's pale lips,
which seemed as though they would never smile again.
" Beloved queen !" said the young man, " you have calcu-
lated without Catherine, and consequently without a crime. I
have been put to the torture ; my bones are broken, all my
body is one wound, and the effort I make at this moment to
press my lips upon your forehead causes me agony worse than
death."
And as he spoke, with great exertion, and ghastly pale, La
Mole pressed his lips on the queen's brow.
" Torture !" cried Coconnas ; " and so did I undergo it. But
the executioner, then, did not do for you what he did for me ?"
And Coconnas told all.
" Ah!" replied La Mole, " that is easily explained. You
gave him your hand on the day of our visit; I forgot that all
men were brothers, and was disdainful. God punishes me for
my pride. God be praised !"
La Mole clasped his hands. Coconnas and the two ladies
exchanged a look of indesqribable horror.
THE CHAPEL.
405
" Come, come," said the jailer, who had been to the door to
listen, and had returned; " come along ! Do not lose any
time, my dear M. de Coconnas. Give me my blow with the
dagger, and manage it like a worthy kind gentleman, for they
will soon be here."
Marguerite was kneeling beside La Mole, like one of the re-
clining figures on a monument.
" Come, my dear friend," said Coconnas ; " courage ! I am
strong, and will carry you. I can place you on your horse, or
hold you on my own, if you could keep yourself erect in the
saddle. Come, let us go—let us go ! You understand what
the good fellow says : our lives are at stake."
La Mole made a superhuman, a sublime effort.
" True," he said "your life is at stake," and he tried to rise.
Annibal placed his arms under him and raised him up. La
Mole, during this time, had only uttered a low moaning; but at
the moment when Coconnas let him go, to speak to the turn-
key, and when the sufferer was no longer supported but by
the arms of two women, his legs bent under him, and in spite
of Marguerite's efforts, the tears gushing from her, he fell like a
mass, and the piercing shriek he could no longer repress made
the chapel echo through all its gloomy vaults.
" You see," said La Mole, in an agony of distress ; " you see,
my beloved, so leave me—leave me with one last adieu. I have
not revealed one word, Marguerite. Your secret is enveloped
in my love, and will die with me. Adieu, dearest, adieu !"
Marguerite, almost lifeless herself, threw her arms round that
dear and beautiful head, and imprinted on his brow a kiss that
was almost holy.
" You, Annibal," said La Mole ; " you who have been spared
these agonies, who are young and may escape, fly, fly ! my
dearest friend, and give me the consolation, when dying, to
know that you are in safety."
" The hour is passing," exclaimed the jailer. " Come, gentle-
men, make haste !"
Henriette endeavoured to lead Annibal gently away; whilst
Marguerite was on her knees before La Mole, her hair dis-
hevelled, and eyes overflowing with tears.
" Fly, Annibal!" repeated La Mole; " fly, and do not afford
our enemies the joyful spectacle of the death of two innocent
men."
Coconnas quietly disengaged himself from Henriette, who
4o6
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
was leading him to the door, and with a gesture so solemn that
it was majestic, said :
" Madame, first give the five hundred crowns we have pro-
mised to this man."
" Here they are," said Henriette.
Then, turning towards La Mole and shaking his head sorrow-
fully, he said:
"As for you, La Mole, you have done me an injury, by
thinking for one moment that I would quit you. Have I not
sworn to live and die with you ? But you are so great a
sufferer, that I forgive you."
And he seated himself with a resolute air near his friend,
towards whom he leaned his head, and whose forehead he
touched with his lips.
Then he drew gently, gently as a mother would a child, the
head of his dear friend towards him, until it glided from the
wall, and reposed itself calmly on his breast.
Marguerite was gloomy : she had picked up the poniard
which Coconnas had let fall.
" Oh, my beloved one !" cried La Mole, extending his hands
as he comprehended her purpose, " do not forget that I die in
order to destroy the slightest suspicion of our love."
" What, then, can I do for you," exclaimed Marguerite, in
despair, " if I must not die with you ?"
"You may," replied La Mole; "you may render my death
sweet, and so that I may in a manner meet it with a smile."
Marguerite clasped her hands, and looked inquiringly at him.
" Do you remember the evening, Marguerite, when in.
exchange for the life I offered you then, and to-day lay down
for you, you made me a sacred promise ?"
Marguerite started.
" Ah, you do remember !" said La Mole, " for you shudder."
"Yes, yes, I remember," said Marguerite ; " and on my soul,
Hyacinthe, I will keep that promise."
Marguerite extended her hand towards the altar, as if a
second time to call on God to witness her oath.
La Mole's face lighted up as if the vaulted roof of the chapel
had opened.
" They are coming !" exclaimed the jailer.
Marguerite uttered a cry, and hastened towards La Mole,
but for fear of increasing his agony, she paused all trembling
before him.
THE CHAPEL.
407
Henriette pressed her lips on Coconnas' brow, and said
to him:
" Dearest Annibal, I understand you, and I am proud of
you. I know the heroism that makes you die, and I love you
for that heroism. Before God, I will always love you more
than anything living; and what Marguerite has sworn to do for
La Mole (although I know not what it is) I will also do for you."
And she held out her hand to Marguerite.
" Well said : now heaven be with you !" replied Coconnas.
" Before you leave me, dearest," said La Mole, " one last
favour; give me some last souvenir, that I may kiss it as I
mount the scaffold."
" Ah, yes," cried Marguerite, " here, take this !"—and she
untied from her neck a small reliquary of gold, fastened to a
chain of the same metal.
" Here," she said, " is a holy relic which I have worn from
my childhood: my mother put it round my neck when I was
very little and she still loved me. It was given by our uncle,
Pope Clement, and has never quitted me. Take it!" ,
La Mole took it, and kissed it eagerly.
" They are opening the door," said the jailer. " Fly,
ladies, fly !"
The two women hastened behind the altar, and disappeared
at the moment the priest entered.
CHAPTER LX.
the place saint-jean-en-greve.
It was seven o'clock in the morning, and the crowd was
waiting, dense and riotous, in the squares, the streets, and the
quays.
At six o'clock in the morning a tumbril, the same in which
the two friends after their duel had been conveyed half dead to
the Louvre, had quitted Yincennes, crossed the Rue Saint
Antoine slowly, and on its route, the spectators, so huddled
together that they crushed one another, seemed like statues,
with their eyes fixed and their mouths open in wonderment.
There was this day a heart-rending spectacle offered by the
queen-mother to all the people of Paris.
In the tumbril we have mentioned as making its slow way
408
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
from Vincennes, were lying on some straw two young men,
bareheaded and entirely clothed in black, leaning against each
other. Coconnas supported on his knees La Mole, whose
head hung over the sides of the tumbril, and whose eyes
wandered vaguely around him.
The crowd, eager to stare with greedy gaze, even to the
bottom of the vehicle, pressed, drove, heaved, lifted itself upon
stones, clung to angles of the walls, and appeared satisfied when
it contrived to gain a look at the two bodies which were going
from suffering to destruction.
It was rumoured that La Mole would die without having
confessed one of the charges imputed to him; whilst, on the
contrary, Coconnas, it was asserted, could not endure the
torture, and had disclosed everything.
So there were cries on all sides:
" Look at the red-haired one ! It was he who confessed !
It was he who owned everything ! He is the coward who
caused the death of the other, who is a-brave fellow, and would
not confess anything!"
The two young men perfectly understood this; the one the
praises, and the other the reproaches, which accompanied their
funeral march; and whilst La Mole pressed the hands of his
friend, a sublime expression of disdain overspread the features
of the Piedmontese, who from the foul tumbril gazed on the
stupid mob as if he were looking down from a triumphal car.
Misfortune had done its heavenly work; had ennobled the
countenance of Coconnas, as death was about to render divine
his soul.
" Are we nearly there ?" asked La Mole; " for I can en-
dure this no longer, my dear friend, and I feel as if I should
faint."
" Rouse thee—-rouse thee, La Mole ! We are passing by the
Rue Tizon and the Rue Cloche-Percee. Look, look !"
" Oh, raise me—raise me, that I may once again behold
that blissful abode !"
Coconnas touched the executioner on the shoulder, as he sat
on the tumbril and drove the horse.
" Maitre," he said, " do us the kindness to pause a moment
in front of the Rue Tizon."
Caboche bowed his head in token of assent, and stopped.
La Mole raised himself with a vast effort, aided by Coconnas,
and gazed, with tearful eyes, at the small house, now closed
THE PLACE SA1NT-JEAN-EN-GREVE. 4°9
and silent as the tomb: a groan burst from his overcharged
breast, and he said, in a low voice :
" Adieu, adieu—youth, love, life !"
And his head fell on his breast.
" Courage," said Coconnas; " we may, perchance find all
this above !"
" Do you think so ?" murmured La Mole.
" I think so, because the priest told me so, and more espe-
cially because I hope so. But do not faint, my dear friend, or
these wretches will laugh at us."
Caboche heard these last words, and whipping his horse with
one hand, he extended the other—unseen by any one—to
Coconnas. It contained a small sponge saturated with a
powerful stimulant, which after having smelt and rubbed over
his brow, La Mole felt himself revived and reanimated, and he
kissed the reliquary suspended from his neck.
When they reached the quay they saw the scaffold, which
was elevated considerably above the ground.
" My friend," said La Mole, " I would fain die first."
Coconnas again touched the headsman's shoulder.
" Maitre," said Coconnas, " my friend has suffered more
than I have, and he says he should suffer all the more to see
me die first; and if I were to die before him, he would have
no one to support him on the scaffold."
" Good, good !" said Caboche, wiping away a tear with the
back of his hand; " be easy, it shall be as you desire."
"And with one blow, eh?" said the Piedmontese, in alow
tone.
" Yes, with one blow !"
" 'Tis well!"
The tumbril stopped. They had arrived. Coconnas put
on his hat.
A murmur like that of the waves of the sea reached the ears
of La Mole. He tried to rise, but his strength failed him, and
Caboche and Coconnas were compelled to support him under
his arms.
The place was paved with heads, and the steps of the H6tel
de Ville seemed an amphitheatre peopled with spectators ; each
window was filled with animated countenances.
When they saw the handsome young man who could no
longer support himself on his legs, bruised and broken, make
an effort to reach the scaffold, a vast sound was heard, like a
4io
MARGUERITE EE I ALOIS.
cry of universal desolation; the men groaned, and the women
uttered plaintive sighs.
" He was one of the grandest dons at the court," said one.
" How handsome he is! How pale he looks !" said the
women. " He is the one who would not confess !"
" My dearest friend," said La Mole, " I cannot support
myself. Carry me !"
" Stay a moment," replied Coconnas.
He made a sign to the executioner, who moved aside; then,
stooping, he lifted La Mole in his arms, as if he had been an
infant, and went up the steps to the scaffold with unfaltering
foot, bore his burden firmly on to the platform, and put him
down amidst the shoutings and applause of the vast multitude.
Coconnas returned the greeting by raising his hat from his
head, and then threw it down on the scaffold beside him.
" Look round," said La Mole; " do you see them anywhere?"
Coconnas glanced deliberately around him, and when his
eyes reached a certain spot, paused. Then, without removing
his look, he touched his friend on the shoulder, saying:
" Look, look, at the window of that little tower !"
With his other hand he pointed out to La Mole the small
building which still exists at the corner of the Rue de la
Yannerie and the Rue Monton—a remnant of past ages.
Two females, clothed in black, were leaning on each other,
somewhat retired from the window.
" Ah !" said La Mole, " I had but one fear, and that was to
die without again seeing her. I have beheld her again, and
now I can die."
And with his eyes steadfastly fixed on the small window, he
lifted the reliquary to his lips, and covered it with kisses.
Coconnas saluted the two women with as much grace as if
he were in a drawing-room, and they replied to the two devoted
men by shaking their handkerchiefs bathed in tears.
Caboche then touched Coconnas on his shoulder, and look-
ing at him very significantly, the Piedmontese replied :
"Yes, yes."
Then, turning to La Mole, he said to him :
" One last embrace, dear friend, and die like a man ! That,
beloved La Mole, will be no hardship for you, who are so
brave."
" Ah," replied La Mole, " there will be no merit in me to
die well, suffering the torments I do."
THE PLACE SAINT-JEAN-EN-GREVE.
411
The priest approached;and extended the crucifix to La Mole,
who smiled, and pointed to the reliquary he held in his hand.
"No matter," replied the priest, " still pray for strength from
Him who suffered what you are about to suffer."
La Mole kissed the feet of the crucifix.
" I am ready," said La Mole.
" Can you hold your head upright?" asked Caboche, coming
with his drawn sword behind La Mole, who was now on his
knees.
" I hope so," was the reply.
"Then all will go well."
" But you," said La Mole, " will not forget what I requested
of you ; this reliquary will open the doors for you."
"Make yourself quite easy; and now try and hold your head
perfectly straight."
La Mole held his neck erect, and looking towards the little
tower, said:
" Adieu, Marguerite ! bless "
He could not finish ; with one stroke of his keen and flashing
sword, Caboche severed from the body the head of La Mole,
which rolled to Coconnas' feet.
The body fell gently back, as if going to rest.
"Thanks, good friend, thanks," said Coconnas, extending his
hand for the third time to the executioner.
One cry arose from the lips of a thousand human beings ;
and amongst them, Coconnas fancied he heard a shriek more
piercing than all the rest.
" My son," said the priest to Coconnas, "have you nothing
you would confess to God ?"
" Ma foi! no father," replied the Piedmontese, " all I had
to say, I said yesterday to you."
Then, turning to Caboche, he said:
"Now then, headsman, my last friend, one more service !"
Before he knelt, he turned on the multitude a look so calm,
so full of resignation, that a murmur of admiration came to
soothe his ear and flatter his pride. Then, taking in his hands
the head of his dear friend, and impressing a last kiss on the
purple lips, he gave one more look towards the little tower, and
kneeling down, still holding the beloved head in his hands, he
cried: "Now!"
He had scarcely uttered the word than Caboche, with a
sweep of his arm, had cut his head from his body.
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
" It is time it was" all over," said the worthy creature,
trembling all over, " poor, poor fellow !"
He took with some difficulty from the clenched fingers of
La Mole the reliquary of gold, and threw his cloak over the
sad remains, which the tumbril had yet to convey to his sinister
abode.
The spectacle was over: the crowd dispersed.
CHAPTER LXI.
. the headsman's tower.
Night spread her mantle over the city, still shuddering under
the recollection of this spectacle, the details of which passed
from mouth to mouth and made sorrowful each family repast.
In contrast to the city, which was silent and mournful, the
Louvre was joyous, noisy, and illuminated. There was a grand
fete at the palace—a fete commanded by Charles IX.; a fete,
which he had ordered for that evening at the same time he had
ordered the execution for the morning.
The Queen of Navarre had received on the previous evening
the king's orders to be present, and in the hope that La Mole
and Coconnas would escape in the night, in consequence of all
measures being taken for their safety, she had promised her
brother to comply with his desire.
But when she had lost all hope, after the terrible scene in the
chapel—after she had, from a last impulse of that deep love
which was the most decided and enduring of her life, been pre-
sent at the execution, she had firmly resolved that neither prayers
nor threats should compel her to go to a boisterous festival at
the Louvre the same day on which she had witnessed so terrible
a scene at the Grhve.
The king had on this day exhibited another proof of that
power of will, which no one, perhaps, ever displayed more ener-
getically than Charles IX.
In bed for a fortnight, weak as a dying man, ghastly as a
corpse, he yet arose at five o'clock, and was attired in his
gayest habiliments, although during his toilette he had fainted
three times.
About eight o'clock he inquired after his sister, if any one
had seen her, and if they knew where she was. No one could
THE HEADSMAN'S TOWER.
413
answer satisfactorily, for the queen had gone to her apartments
about eleven o'clock, and refused admittance to everybody.
But there was no refusal for Charles. Leaning on the arm of
M. de Nancey, he proceeded to the Queen of Navarre's apart-
ments and entered suddenly by the secret door.
Although he expected a melancholy sight, and had prepared
for it, that which he beheld was even more distressing than he
had anticipated.
Marguerite, half dead, was lying on a sofa, her head buried
in the cushions, neither weeping or praying; ever since her
return she had been groaning in bitterest anguish.
At the other corner of the chamber, Henriette de Nevers,
that daring bold woman, lay stretched on the carpet, without
consciousness.
Charles desired Nancey to await him in the corridor, and
entered, pale and trembling.
Neither of the women saw him : Gillonne, alone, who was at
the moment endeavouring to revive Henriette, rose on her
knee and looked terrified at the king, who made a sign with
his hand, whereupon she rose, curtseyed reverentially, and re-
tired.
Charles then approached Marguerite, looked at her for a
moment in silence, and then in a tone of which his harsh voice
might have been thought incapable, said :
" Margot, my sister !"
The queen started, and turned round.
" Your majesty !" she said.
"Come, come, sister dear, rouse yourself."
Marguerite raised her eyes to heaven.
" Yes," said Charles ; " I know all—but listen to me."
The queen made a sign that she listened.
"You promised me to come to the ball," said Charles.
" I ?" exclaimed Marguerite.
" Yes : and, after your promise, you are expected; and there-
fore, if you do not come, everybody will be surprised at not
seeing you."
" Excuse me, brother," replied Marguerite; " you see how
very ill I am."
" Exert yourself."
Marguerite endeavoured for a moment to summon courage
and then suddenly giving way again, sank on her sofa.
"No, no, I cannot go," she said.;
414
MARGUERITE DE VALORS.
Charles took her hand, seated himself beside her on the sofa
and said :
"You have just lost a dear friend, Margot, I know full well.
But look at me—have not I lost all my friends, and, moreover,
my mother? You have time to bewail as you now do ; but I,
at the moment of my severest griefs, am always forced to smile
—you suffer, but look at me ! I am dying. Well, then, Margot,
rouse thee ; courage, girl! I ask thee, sister, for our name's
honour. "Pis an agony that we bear for the sake of our house :
let us bear it, then, let us bear it, my beloved sister, courageously
and resignedly."
" Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dien /" exclaimed Marguerite.
"Yes," said Charles, following up the train of his reflections,
" yes, the sacrifice is severe, my dear sister : but every one has
his trials—some, of their honour ; others, of their life. Do you
suppose that, at twenty-five, and the most splendid throne in
the world, I do not regret dying? Well, then, look at me !
My eyes, my complexion, my lips are those of a dying man;
yet my smile—would not my smile make all the world believe
that I still hope? Yet in a week, a fortnight, a month at most,
you will weep for me, my sister dear, as you do for him who
died to-day."
" Dearest brother!" cried Marguerite, throwing her arms
round Charles's neck.
" Come, dress yourself, dear Marguerite,"said theking ; " hide
your paleness, and appear at the ball. I have desired that they
should bring you some new jewels and ornaments worthy of
your beauty."
" Oh, what are jewels and ornaments to me now !" exclaimed
Marguerite.
" Life is long, Marguerite !" said Charles, with a smile, " at
least, for you."
" No ! no !"
" Sister, recollect one thing : it is sometimes by stifling, or
rather dissimulating our suffering, that we show most honour
to the dead."
"Well, sire," said Marguerite, shuddering, " I will attend the
bail."
A tear, rapidly dried upon his parched eyelid, moistened
Charles's eye for a moment. He kissed his sister's brow, paused
a moment before Henriette, who had not seen or heard him,
and then retired, saying, as he did so :
THE HEADMAN'S TO WEE.
415
" Poor girl!"
"Get everything ready to dress me, Gillonne," said Mar-
guerite.
The lady-in-waiting looked at her mistress in astonishment.
"Yes," said Marguerite, in a tone whose bitterness is inde-
scribable, " yes, I shall dress: I am going to the ball—they
expect me. Make haste, then, the day will then be complete :
the fete at the Grkve in the morning—the fete at the Louvre in
the evening."
" And the duchess ?" asked Gillonne.
" Ah, she—she is quite happy ! She may remain here—she
may weep—suffer at her ease. She is not a king's daughter, a
king's wife, a king's sister: she is not a queen. Help me to
dress, Gillonne."
The young lady obeyed. The new ornaments sent by the
king were splendid, and the dresses gorgeous. Marguerite had
never looked so magnificently beautiful.
She looked at herself in a glass, and said : " My brother is
right—a human being is a miserable creature."
Gillonne entered at this moment.
" Madame," she said, " here is a man asking after you."
"Who is he?"
" I do not know, but he is very horrid-looking; his very ap-
pearance made me tremble."
" Go and ask his name," said Marguerite, turning very pale.
Gillonne went out, and returning after a few minutes, said :
" He would not tell his name, madame, but begged me to
give you this."
And Gillonne handed to Marguerite the reliquary which she
had given to La Mole the night previous.
" Oh, bring him hither—bring him hither !" said the queen,
eagerly, and becoming even more pale and her features more
rigid.
A heavy step was heard upon the floor, and then a man ap-
peared on the threshold.
"You are ?" said the queen.
" He whom you saw one day near Montfaucon, madame,
and who conveyed in his tumbril two wounded gentlemen to
the Louvre."
"Yes, yes, I recognise you—you are Maitre Caboche."
"Executioner of the provostry of Paris, madame."
These were the only words which Henriette had heard of all
416
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
those that had been spoken around her for the last hour.
She then raised her pale face from her two hands, and looked
at the headsman with her piercing eyes, which seemed to dart
flames.
" And you come " said Marguerite, tremulously.
" To remind you of the promise made to the youngest of the
two gentlemen, him who charged me to return this reliquary to
you. Do you recollect, madame ?"
" Yes, yes !" cried the queen, " and never shall more noble
shade have nobler satisfaction—but where is it ?"
"It is at my abode, with the body."
" Why did you not bring it?"
" I might have been stopped at the wicket of the Louvre,
and compelled to open my cloak ; what would have been said,
if a head had been discovered underneath ?"
"True, true; keep it at your house, and I will come for it
to-morrow."
" To-morrow, madame—to-morrow?" said Maitre Caboche,
" it may be too late !" "And wherefore?"
" Because the queen-mother desired me to keep for her magic
experiments the heads of the first two criminals I should exe-
cute."
" Oh, profanation ! the heads of our beloved !—Henriette,"
exclaimed Marguerite, running towards her friend, whom she
found standing up as if a spring had placed her on her feet,
" Henriette, my darling friend, do you hear what this man says ?"
"Yes, and what are we to do ?"
"We must accompany him and Marguerite threw a velvet
cloak over her shoulders. " Come, come," she said, " we shall
see them once more."
Marguerite took Henriette by the arm, and, going down the
secret staircase, made a sign to Caboche to follow. At the door
was her litter, and at the wicket they found Caboche's servant
with a lantern.
Marguerite's bearers were trustworthy men, deaf and dumb,
and worthier of confidence than beasts of burthen.
They entered the litter, and were conveyed onwards, until,
suddenly stopping, the headsman opened the door.
Marguerite alighted, and aided the Duchess de Nevers.
In their excessive grief, which thus tried them both, it was the
nervous temperament that now gained the ascendant over the
more powerfully organised frame.
THE HEADSMAN'S TO WEE.
4*7
u You may enter, ladies," said Caboche; " everybody is asleep
in the tower."
At the same moment the light in the two windows was ex-
tinguished, and the two ladies, clinging to each other, passed
under the gothic door, and went along in darkness over a rugged
and slippery pavement.
Caboche, with a torch in his hand, led them into a chamber,
low, and blackened with smoke.
In a conspicuous place was nailed to the wall a parchment
sealed with the king's seal: it was the headman's brevet.
In a corner was a large sword, with a long handle : it was the
flaming sword of justice.
Here and there were seen several large images, representing
saints under different kinds of martyrdom.
Having arrived here, Caboche made a low bow.
" Your majesty will pardon me," he said, " if I have dared to
penetrate to the Louvre and conduct you hither; but it was the
last and earnest wish of the gentleman ; so "
"You have done well, maitre," said Marguerite, "and this
will recompense your zealous service."
Caboche eyed sorrowfully the purse, well filled with gold,
which Marguerite placed on the table.
" Gold ! gold ! always gold !" he muttered. " Alas, madame,
why cannot I redeem at the price of gold the blood I have been
compelled to shed to-day !"
" Maitre," replied Marguerite, with painful hesitation, " I do
not see "
Caboche took the flambeau, opened an outer door, which,
opening on to the staircase, led by a few steps into a cellar.
At the same moment a current of air passed, which drove several
sparks out of the torch, and brought up with it the nauseous
smell of damp and blood.
Henriette, white as a marble statue, leaned on the arm of her
friend, who moved with a more assured step; but at the first
stair she staggered.
" I shall never be able " she exclaimed.
" When one loves well, Henriette," replied the queen, " we
love even beyond death itself."
It was a horrid and touching sight to see those two women,
resplendent in youth, beauty, and attire, bending under this
sordid and chalky vault, the weaker leaning on the stronger, and
the stronger clinging to the headsman's arm.
27
418
MARGUERITE EE VALOlS.
They reached the lowest step.
On the floor of this cellar lay two human forms, covered with
a large cloth of black serge.
Caboche raised a corner of this mort-cloth, and lowering his
torch, said :
"Look, your majesty !"
In their black attire, the two young men lay side by side, in
the fearful symmetry of death. Their heads, placed close on
their bodies, seemed only divided from them by a red circle
round the neck. Death had not separated their hands, for either
by accident, or the pious attention of the headsman, the right
hand of La Mole reposed in the left hand of Coconnas.
There was a look of love beneath the eyelids of La Mole;
there was a smile of disdain under those of Coconnas.
Marguerite knelt down beside her lover, and, with her hands
glittering with jewels, gently raised the head of him she had
loved so well.
The Duchess de Nevers, leaning against the wall, could not
take her eyes off that pale face she had so often gazed upon
with joy and love.
" La Mole ! dearest La Mole !" murmured Marguerite.
" Annibal I Annibal !" cried the duchess. " So handsome,
so proud, so brave, why dost thou not answer me ?" and a tor-
rent of tears gushed from her eyes.
Marguerite then put into a bag, embroidered with pearls and
perfumed with the finest essences, the head of La Mole, which
looked still more striking when in contact with the velvet and
gold, and whose beauty a peculiar preparation, used at the
period in royal embalmings, could not fail to preserve.
Henriette folded the head of Coconnas in the skirt of her
mantle. And both, bending beneath their poignant sorrow,
ascended the stairs, after one last lingering look at the loved
remains they left to the mercy of an executioner, in this gloomy
den of common criminals.
" Fear nothing, madame," said Caboche, who comprehended
the look ; " the gentleman shall be buried in holy ground : this
I swear to you."
"And have masses said for their souls, which this will pay
for," said Henriette, taking from her neck a magnificent neck-
lace of rubies, which she gave to the headsman.
They returned to the Louvre, and the queen, going to her own
apartments, deposited the melancholy relic in the cabinet of
THE SWEAT OF BLOOD.
her bedchamber, destined from that moment to become an
oratory; then, leaving Henriette in her room, the queen, paler
and lovelier than ever, about ten o'clock entered the splendid
ball-room—the scene in which we commenced the first chapter
of this our history, two years and a half previously.
All eyes were turned towards her, and she supported the
universal gaze with a proud and almost joyous look, for she
had religiously accomplished the dying wish of the beloved of
her heart.
Charles, when he saw her, passed through the gilded throng,
and said aloud:
" Thanks, my dear sister!" and then, in a lower tone:
" Mind ! you have a spot of blood upon your arm."
" What consequence is that, sire, if I have but a smile upon
my lips ?"
CHAPTER LXII.
The sweat of blood.
Some days after the terrible scene we have related, that is, on
the 30th of May, 1574, the court was at Yincennes, when sud-
denly a great noise was heard in the antechamber of the king,
who had been ill in the midst of a grand ball he had given the
very day of the young men's execution, and by advice of his
physicians had come to Vincennes for change of air.
It was eight o'clock in the morning; a small group of cour-
tiers was assembled in the antechamber, when the nurse appeared
at the door of the royal apartment, crying : "
" Help ! help ! the king is dying !"
" The king is worse, then ?" said De Nancey, whom, as we
have seen, Charles had attached to his own person.
" Oh, summon the doctors ! summon the doctors !" cried the
nurse.
Mazille and Ambroise Pare attended the king by turns, and
Pare, having seen Charles fall asleep, had profited by the oppor-
tunity to retire for a few moments.
Meantime, Charles had broken into a profuse perspiration, and
as he suffered from a relaxation of the capillary vessels, which
occasions hsemorrhage of the skin, this strange appearance had
alarmed the nurse, who, being a Protestant, declared it was a
27—2
420
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
judgment for the blood shed in the massacre of St. Bartholomew.
Every one hastened in search of the doctor, in order to display
his zeal and activity.
A door suddenly opened, and Catherine appeared; she tra-
versed the antechamber, and entered the king's apartment.
Charles was lying across the bed, his eyes closed, and his chest
heaving; his body was covered with a reddish perspiration, and
from the end of each finger hung a drop of blood.
At the sound of steps Charles looked up, and beheld his
mother.
" Excuse me, madame," said he, " I would fain die in
peace."
" Die !" replied Catherine; " do not thus be discouraged,
this is a passing attack."
" I tell you, mort de tout les diaUes ! I am dying—I know it,
and I feel it !"
" Sire," said the queen, " your mind is diseased; since the
death of those two assassins, La Mole and Coconnas, your
bodily sufferings ought to have abated, and as for your mental
anguish, if I had ten minutes' conversation with you, I could
prove "
"Nurse," interrupted Charles, "let no one enter : the Queen
Catherine de Medicis wishes to speak with her beloved son,
Charles the Ninth."
The nurse obeyed.
"This interview must have taken place," continued he,
" sooner or later, and perhaps to-morrow it may be too late, but
a third person must be present."
" why?"
" Because, I repeat," said Charles, with a terrible solemnity,
" Death is at the door of this chamber, and may enter one
moment from another, and it is time to put my affairs in
order."
"And who is this third person?"
" My brother."
" Sire," said the queen, " I see with pleasure that these
denunciations, dictated by hate rather than pain, have not left
any prejudice on your mind. Nurse—nurse !"
The nurse appeared.
"Nurse," said Catherine, "when M. deNancey comes, order
him in the king's name to summon M. d'Alencon."
Charles made a sign to the nurse to stay.
THE SWEAT OF BLOOD,
421
" I said my brother," repeated he.
Catherine's eyes glistened with rage, but an imperious gesture
of Charles stopped her.
" I wish to speak with my brother Henry of Navarre," con-
tinued he; "he alone is my brother."
" And do you think," cried the queen, daring (so great was
her hate to Henry) to brave Charles's anger, " do you think, that
if you are really, as you say, dying, I will suffer a stranger to
usurp my right as a queen and as a mother, to be present at
your last moments ?"
" Madame," said Charles, " I am yet king—I yet command;
and if you will not summon Henry, I have yet strength enough
left to fetch him myself."
And Charles half rose from the bed.
" Sire," cried Catherine, detaining him, " think what you
do—as for me, the laws of nature and of etiquette alike bid me
stay."
" By what title do you stay ?"
" By that of your mother."
"You are no more my mother than D'Alengon is my
brother."
" You rave ! when did I forfeit that title ?"
" When you took away that which you gave."
" What mean you, Charles ? I do not undestand you," mur-
mured Catherine, all amazement.
Charles felt under his pillow, and drew forth a small silver
key.
" Take this key, open my travelling-casket there, and you will
find papers that will speak for me."
Charles pointed to a casket of carved oak, fastened with a
silver lock, that stood in the centre of the apartment.
Catherine, controlled, spite of herself, by Charles's terrible
look, opened the casket; but no sooner had she done so, than
she recoiled, as if she had seen a serpent inside it.
" What do you see that alarms you, madame ?" . asked
Charles.
"Nothing," said Catherine.
" Then put your hand in, and give me a book; for there is
one there—is there not ?"
"Yes," faltered Catherine.
" A book of venerie ?"
" Yes."
422
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS,
"Bring it to me."
Catherine, trembling in every limb, did as he bade her.
" Fatality !" murmured she.
"Listen," continued Charles. "This book—I was foolish
<—I loved the chase above everything—I read this book too
much. Do you understand?"
Catherine uttered a suppressed groan.
" It was a folly!" said Charles. "Burn it, madame, the world
must not know the weaknesses of kings."
Catherine advanced to the fire, cast the fatal book in, and
stood, motionless and haggard, watching the blue flames that
devoured the poisoned leaves of the volume.
As it burned, a strong odour, like garlic, pervaded the
apartment.
It was soon entirely consumed.
"And now, madame," said the king, with irresistible majesty,
" summon my brother Henry."
Catherine, overwhelmed, crushed beneath a complicated
emotion she could not analyse, quitted the room.
"Curse him!" cried she, as he passed the threshold, "he
triumphs—he reaches the goal! Curse him !—curse him !"
" Henry !—my brother Henry !" cried Charles, following his
mother with his voice; " I wish to see him instantly, to speak
about the regency."
At this moment, Ambroise Pare entered by the opposite
door.
" Who has been burning arsenic here ?" said he.
" I have," replied Charles.
CHAPTER LXIII.
the platform of the donjon at vincennes. '
Henry of Navarre was walking alone on the terrace of the
donjon. He knew the court was at the chateau, and it seemed
to him he could see, through the walls, Charles on his death-
bed. It was a summer's eve. A broad ray of light bathed
the distant plains, and gilded the stems of the old oaks in the
forest.
But it was not on these objects that Henry fixed his atten-
tion; he was gazing, in thought, on the capital of France.
THE PLATFORM OF THE DONJON AT VINCENNES. 423
"Paris!" murmured he—"Paris! where is the Louvre—
the Louvre, where is the throne ! and here do these ramparts
shut me out from thee, to confine me with my mortal enemy !"
As his thoughts wandered from Paris back to Vincennes, he
saw on the left, in a valley, a man whose cuirass sparkled in
the sunbeams. This man was on a splendid charger, and led
another.
The king fixed his eyes on this cavalier, and saw him draw
his sword, place his handkerchief on it, and wave it in the
air. Instantly the signal was repeated from the next hill;
and continued until the king saw it extend all round the
phateau.
It was De Mouy and his Huguenots, who, knowing the king
was dying, and fearing lest Henry's life should be in danger,
had collected, and were ready to defend him.
Henry shaded his eyes with his hand, and recognising the
cavalier:
" De Mouy!" cried he, as though his friend could hear
him.
And he hastily undid his scarf, and waved it in return.
All the handkerchiefs were again waved.
" Ah, they wait for me !" said he. " I cannot join them.
Why did I not do so when it was in my power !"
And he made a despairing gesture, that De Mouy returned
by another, which meant, " I will wait."
At this moment Henry heard steps on the stairs : he dis-
appeared; and, as if by magic, the troop outside disappeared
also.
Henry saw, and not without a secret dread, his mortal foe,
Catherine de Medicis, appear on the terrace.
"Oh," thought he, "it must be something important, indeed,
that makes her come and seek me on the platform of the don-
jon of Vincennes."
Catherine sat down on a stone bench, to recover her breath.
Henry approached her.
" Are you seeking me, madame ?" asked he.
" Yes," replied Catherine; " I wished to give you a proof of
my attachment—the king desires to see you."
" Me ?"
"Yes. He thinks that not content with desiring the throne
of Navarre, you covet that of France also."
" Oh, madame!"
424
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" I know it is not true, but he believes it, and lays a snare
for you."
" What will he, then, offer me ?"
" How do I know ?—impossibilities, perhaps."
" But have you no idea ?" '
"No; but suppose, for instance "
" What ?"
" Suppose, Henry, he were to offer you a temptation—the
regency!"
Henry felt a thrill of joy pervade him, but he saw the snare,
and avoided it.
" Oh," said he, " the trick would be too palpable; offer me
the regency, when there is yourself, when there is D'Alen9on !"
" You will refuse it, then ?" replied Catherine.
" The king is dead," thought Henry; " she has laid a trap for
me.—I must hear what the king says, madame, for you know all
this is but supposition."
" Doubtless ; but you can tell me your intentions."
" Mon Dieu !" said Henry, " I have no pretensions, and so
can have no intentions."
" That is no answer," replied Catherine; " but to be short
with you—for there is no time to lose—if you accept the regency
you are a dead man."
" The king lives," thought Henry. " Madame," said he,
firmly, " God will inspire me, for the hearts of kings are in his
hands. I am ready to see his majesty."
" Reflect, monsieur!"
" During two years that I have been persecuted, and a month
that I have been a prisoner, I have had time for reflection, and
I have reflected. Favour me, therefore, by informing the king
of my coming. These two guards would prevent my escape,
even did I contemplate flight, which I do not."
Catherine saw she could do nothing more, and hastily de-
scended.
No sooner had she disappeared than Henry made a sign to
De Mouy, that meant, " Draw nearer."
De Mouy sprang into the saddle, and advanced within a
musket-shot of the chateau.
Henry waved his hand, and hastened after the queen.
On the first landing he found the two sentinels awaiting him.
A double troop of Swiss and light horse guarded the court,
and to enter or leave the chateau it was necessary to traverse
THE PLATTORM OF THE DONJON AT VINCENNES. 435
a double rank of halberds. Catherine was waiting there for
him.
" Look !" said she, laying her hand on his arm. " This court
has two gates; at this, behind the king's apartment, if you refuse
the regency, a good horse and-freedom await you. If you follow
the dictates of ambition—what say you ?"
" I say that if the king makes me regent, I, and not you, shall
command these soldiers."
" Madman !" murmured Catherine ; " be warned, and do not
play at life and death with me !"
" Why not ?" said Henry, " since, up to this time, I have
been the gainer."
" Go to the king's apartments, sir, since you will not listen to
me," said Catherine, pointing to the stairs with one hand, whilst
the other sought the handle of one of the poisoned daggers she
wore at her girdle in the shagreen case which has become his-
torical.
" Pass before me, madame," said Henry; " until I am regent,
you have the precedence."
Catherine, foiled at every point, made no~resistance, but
ascended the stairs before Henry.
CHAPTER LXIY.
the regency.
The king had become impatient, and was on the point of sending
De Nancey in search of Henry, when the latter appeared.
On seeing him, Charles uttered a cry of joy. The two doctors
and the priest, who were with the king, instantly rose and
quitted the chamber.
Charles was not greatly beloved, and yet all the courtiers in
the antechambers were weeping. At the death of every king,
good or bad, there are some persons who fear they shall lose
by it.
Charles smiled mournfully.
" Come here, Harry," said he, holding out his hand to him ;
" come here. I was unhappy at not seeing you, for, believe me,
I have often reproached myself with having tormented you;
but a king cannot control events, and, besides, my mother and
D'Anjou and D'AlenQon, and something else, which now that
426
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
I am dying does not influence me, influenced me then—state
policy."
" Sire," replied Henry, " I only recollect the love I bear you
as my brother."
" Ah, you are right to think thus, and I am grateful to you
for it," said Charles. " But let us not think of the past, but of
the future, for it is that I am alarmed about."
And the poor king hid his face in his hands.
After a moment's silence, he continued :
"We must save the state—we must not let it fall into the
hands of fanatics or women."
Charles spoke these words in a low tone, and yet Henry
fancied he heard a suppressed exclamation of rage.
"Of women?" said he, anxious to provoke an explana?
tion.
" Yes, for my mother would fain be regent until D'Anjou's
return; but, I tell you, he will not return."
" How, not return?" cried Henry, his heart beating joyfully.
" No, his subjects will not let him."
" But do you not think the queen-mother has already written
to him ?"
"Yes; but Nancey stopped the courier at Chateau Thierry,
and brought me the letter, in which she said I was dying. I
wrote to Warsaw myself, and D'Anjou will be carefully watched,
so that in all probability the throne will become vacant."
Another angry sound was heard behind the tapestry.
" She is there," thought Henry, " and is listening."
Charles heard nothing.
" I die without male heirs," continued he.
Then, stopping suddenly, he looked at the King of Navarre.
" Do you recollect, Harry," said he, " the little boy I showed
you one nighty sleeping peacefully in his cradle, and watched
over by an angel ? Alas, they will kill him also !"
" Oh no, no !" cried Henry, with tears in his eyes; " I
swear to you that I will watch over and protect him with my
life."
" Thanks, Harry, thanks !" said the king gratefully; " I
accept your promise; do not make him a king (fortunately, he
is not born to a throne), but make him happy; I leave him an
ample fortune, and I am now more resigned, since you have
promised to protect him."
Henry reflected.
7HE REGENCY.
427
" I have promised," said he; " but ean I [fulfil my
word ?"
" What mean you ?"
" Shall I not be persecuted, and in more danger than he is,
since I am a man, and he but an infant ?"
"You are mistaken," said Charles; "after my death you
shall be great and powerful."
At these words he drew a parchment from under his pillow.
" Here !" said he.
Henry hastily glanced over the document.
" The regency for me ?"
" Yes, until D'Anjou's return; and, as he will not return, in
all probability it is the throne I give you."
" The throne !"
" You alone are worthy of it—you alone capable of governing,
D'Alen§on is a traitor—leave him in the prison I have con-
signed him to. My mother will seek to kill you—-banish her.
D'Anjou will quit Poland in three months, perhaps in a year ;
reply to him by a papal bull, I have already arranged that
matter, and you will receive the document shortly."
" Oh, my king !"
" You have but one thing to fear—civil war; but, by remain-
ing converted, you will avoid that. The Protestants can do
nothing unless you are at their head, for Conde is comparatively
nothing. They say I feel remorse for the Bartholomew: doubts,
yes !—remorse, no ! They say I bleed the blood then shed at
every pore ; what flows from me is arsenic, and not blood."
" Oh, what mean you, sire ?"
" Nothing; God will, if he think fit, avenge my death. I
leave you a faithful parliament and a trusty army. They
will protect you against your only enemies—my mother and
D'AlenQon."
At this moment the sound of arms was heard in the ves-
tibule.
" I am lost," murmured Henry.
"You fear—you hesitate," said Charles.
"No, I accept."
Charles pressed his hand.
"Nurse," cried he; "nurse, summon my mother and M.
d'AlenQon."
428
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHAPTER LXV.
the king is^dead ! god save the king.
Catherine and D'Alen^on entered together. As Henry had
conjectured, the queen had overheard all, and had in a few
words acquainted D'Alen§on with what had passed.
Henry stood by the head of the king's bed.
The king commenced thus :
" Madame," said he, to his mother, " if I had a son, he
would be king, and you would be regent; in your stead, did
you decline, the King of Poland ; in his stead, did he decline,
D'Alengon; but I have no son, and the throne belongs to
D'Anjou, who is absent. I do not choose, therefore, to place
a man almost his equal on the throne, at the risk of exciting
a civil war; I do not, therefore, make you regent, because it
would be painful for you to choose between your two sons; I
do not, therefore, make D'Alengon regent, because he might
say to D'Anjou, 'You had a throne,—why have you quitted
it ?' No ; I have, therefore, chosen the fittest person for regent.
Salute him, madame—salute him, D'Alenfon : it is the King
of Navarre !"
And with a gesture of supreme authority he himself saluted
Henry: Catherine and D'Alemjon made a motion between a
shudder and a salute.
" Here, my lord regent," said Charles, " is the parchment
that, until the return of D'Anjou, gives you the command of
the kingdom."
Catherine devoured Henry with her eyes; D'Alengon turned
deadly pale, and could hardly stand.
Henry, making a violent effort, took the warrant from
Charles, and drawing himself up to his full height, fixed his eyes
on the queen, as if to say, "Beware. I am your master !"
"No, never!" said Catherine; "never shall my race yield
to a foreign one ! Never shall a Bourbon reign whilst a Valois
remains !"
" Mother!" cried Charles, sitting up, " I am yet king, and
have strength enough to give an order; it does not require
much time to punish murderers and poisoners."
" Give the order if you dare—I will give mine !"
And she left the room, followed by D'Alengon.
fHE KING IS DEAD ! GOD SA VE THE KING > 429
" Nancey !" cried Charles ; " Nancey ; arrest my mother and
brother!"
A stream of blood choked his utterance.
De Nancey entered; he had only heard his name; the rest
of the order had not reached him.
" Guard the door," said Henry, " and let no one enter !"
Nancey bowed, and left the apartment. Henry looked at
the dying king.
"The fatal moment is come!" said he. "Shall I reign?
Shall I live?"
" Live, sire !" said a voice.
The tapestry of the alcove was lifted, and Rene's pale face
appeared.
" Rene ?" cried Henry.
"Yes, sire."
"Your prediction was false, then—I shall not be king ?"
"You shall be ; but the time has not yet come."
" How do you know ? Speak !"
" Listen !"
" I listen."
" Stoop !"
Henry leaned over the bed, and Rend did the same; between
them lay the body of the dying king.
" Listen !" said Rene. " Placed here by the queen-mother
to undo you, I prefer to serve you; for I have faith in your
horoscope."
" Is it the queen-mother who bade you tell me that ?"
"No," said Rene; "I will tell you a secret: the King of
Poland will soon be here !"
"No—for the king stopped the courier at Chateau
Thierry."
" The queen had sent three, by different routes."
" Oh, I am lost !" said Henry.
"A messenger arrived this morning from Warsaw. No one
knows of Charles's illness there; D'Anjou quitted that city
without opposition, and the courier only preceded him by a
few hours."
" Oh, had I but eight days !" muttered Henry.
"You have not eight hours ! did you not hear the noise of
the arms in the vestibule ? The soldiers will come even hefe
to kill you."
" The king is not dead yet."
43°
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" No," said Rene, " but he will be in ten minutes ; you have
ten minutes to live."
" What shall I do, then ?"
" Fly instantly."
" How ? If I cross the vestibule, they will kill me there."
" Listen ! I risk everything for you;—do not forget it."
" Fear me not."
" Follow me through this passage ; it will conduct you to the
postern. I will, to gain time, tell the queen you are coming;
they will think afterwards you have discovered the secret door,
and escaped."
Henry stooped, and kissed Charles's forehead.
" Adieu, my brother !" said he; "I will not forget your last
wish was to see me king. Die in peace; in the name of my
brethren I forgive you their blood you have spilt."
Henry seized Charles's sword, placed the precious parchment
in his breast, pressed his lips again to Charles's forehead, and
disappeared by the secret passage.
" Nurse !" murmured the king ; "nurse !"
" What do you want, Chariot ?" cried she.
" Nurse, whilst I have been sleeping, something strange has
happened; for I see a great light, and saints interceding with
God for me. Pardon me, my God ! Pardon the crimes of the
king, in compassion for the sufferings of the man ! I come !
I come !"
And Charles, who had risen nearly to his feet, fell back dead
into his nurse's arms.
Meantime, Henry, guided by Rene, traversed the passage,
passed through the postern, and springing on his horse, galloped
towards De Mouy.
The sentinels, hearing the horse, moved forward and cried :
" He flies—he flies !"
" Who flies ?"' said the queen.
" The King of Navarre."
"Fire on him—fire !" said the queen.
The sentinels levelled their pieces, but the king was out ot
reach.
" He flies !" said Catherine ; " he is vanquished, then !"
" He flies !" muttered D'Alen^on; " I am king, then !"
But at this moment the drawbridge was hastily lowered, and
a young man galloped into the court, followed by four gentlemen
crying, " France, France !"
THE KING IS,DEAD} GOD SAVE THE KING! 431
" My son !" cried Catherine, joyfully.
" My mother!" replied the young man, springing to the
ground.
"D'Anjou !" exclaimed Francois," thunderstruck.
"Am I too late ?" said Henry d'Anjou.
" No, you are just in time—listen !"
At this moment De Nancey appeared at the balcony of the
king's apartment: all eyes were fixed on him.
He broke a wand he held in two pieces, and holding a frag-
ment in either hand :
" King Charles the Ninth is dead ! King Charles the Ninth
is dead! King Charles the Ninth is dead !" cried he three
times.
And he let fall the fragments of the wand.
" Charles the Ninth is dead!" said Catherine, crossing her-
self; " God save Henry the Third !"
All repeated the cry, with the exception of D'Alen^on.
" She has betrayed me," said he,
"I have conquered," cried Catherine, "and the odious
Bearnais will not reign !"
CHAPTER LXVI.
epilogue.
A year had elapsed since the death of Charles IX., and the
accession of his successor.
King Henry III., happily reigning by the grace of God and his
mother Catherine, had gone in a fine procession in honour of
Notre Dame de Clery.
He had gone on foot with the queen, his wife, and all the
court.
King Henry III. was able to afford himself this little pastime,
for no serious business occupied him at the moment: the King of
Navarre was in Navarre, where he had so long desired to be; and
they said was very much taken up with a beautiful girl of the blood
of the Montmorencies, whom he called la Fosseuse (dimple-cheek).
Marguerite was with him, sad and gloomy, and finding only in
her beautiful mountains, not an amusement, but a soother of the
two great griefs of human life—absence and death.
Paris was very quiet, and the queen-mother, really regent since
432
MARGUERITE DE VAL01S.
her dear son Henry was king, resided sometimes at the Louvre,
sometimes at the Hotel de Soissons.
One evening, when she was deeply occupied in studying the
stars with Ren6, whose little treason she had never detected, and
who had been reinstated in her favour, after the false testimony he
had so opportunely borne against La Mole and Coconnas, she
was informed that a man desired to see her who had a matter of
the utmost importance to communicate.
She went hastily to her oratory, and found the Sire de Mau-
revel.
" He is here !" exclaimed the ancient captain of the Petar-
diers, not giving Catherine time to address him, according to royal
etiquette.
" What he ?" she asked.
"Who can it be, madame, but the King of Navarre ?"
" Here ?" cried Catherine. " Here !—he—Henry !—and
what is the madman doing here ?"
" If appearances may be trusted, he has come to see Madame
de Sauve; if probabilities are considered, he comes to conspire
against the king."
" How did you know he was here ?"
" Because I saw him enter a house here yesterday, and, very
soon afterwards, Madame de Sauve joined him there."
" Are you sure it was he ?"
" I waited until he came out. At three o'clock, the two lovers
appeared. The king conducted Madame de Sauve to the wicket
of the Louvre. There the porter, who is no doubt in her interest,
admitted her, and she entered without interruption, and the king
returned humming a tune, and with a step as free and unconcerned
as if he were amongst his mountains in Bdarn."
"And whither did he betake himself?"
" Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, to the hotel of the Belle Etoile, at the
same man's where the two sorcerers lodged whom your majesty
executed last year."
" Why did you not come and inform me the moment you first
saw him ?"
" Because I was not quite sure of my man."
" Whilst now "
"I am perfectly certain."
" You saw him, then ?"
" Perfectly. I concealed myself at the wine shop in front of
the house, and saw him enter the same place as on the previous
EPILOGUE.
433
night. Then, as Madame de Sauve was late, he imprudently
put his face against the window on the first-floor, arid then I
had no further doubt. Besides, a few moments afterwards,
Madame de Sauve came and rejoined him."
" And do you think they will remain, as they did last night,
until three o'clock in the morning !"
" It is probable."
" Where is the house you mention ?"
"Near the Croix-des-Petits-Champs, close by Saint Honore."
"Very good !" replied Catherine. " Does Monsieur de Sauve -
know your handwriting ?"
" No," said Maurevel.
"Sit down there and write."
Maurevel obeyed.
"I am ready, madame," said he.
Catherine dictated:
" Whilst the Baron de Sauve is on service at the Louvre, his
wife is with her lover in a house near the Croix-des-Petits-
Champs, Rue Saint Honord The baron will recognise the
house by a red cross on the wall."
"Well?"
"Now make a second copy of this letter."
Maurevel did so.
" Now," continued the queen, " let this billet be given adroitly
to the baron, and let fall the other in the corridor of the
Louvre."
" I do not understand."
Catherine shrugged her shoulders.
" You do not see that a husband who receives such a letter
must be angry."
" In the King of Navarre's time he was not offended."
" Do you not know there is a great difference between a king
and an exile ? Besides, if he is not offended, you will be for
him."
"I?"
" Yes; take four or six men, masked. You burst open the
door—you surprise the lovers—you strike, in the baron's name,
and the next day, the letter found in the Louvre proves that it
is the husband who revenged himself, only it happened the lover
was the King of Navarre ; but who could think he was there,
when every one believed he was at Pau ?"
Maurevel bowed and withdrew.
2§
434
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
Just as he quitted the Hotel de Soissons, Madame de Sauve
entered the house of the Croix-des-Petits-Champs.
Henry was waiting for her.
" Have you been followed?" said he.
"No," said Charlotte, " not that I know of."
" I think I have ; not only to-night, but last evening also."
" Oh, sire, you terrify me. I should be inconsolable if any-
thing were to happen to you."
"Fear nothing, love," said the Bearnais, "three faithful fob
lowers watch over me.'
" Only three ?"
" Three are sufficient, when they are called De Mouy, Sau-
court, and Barthelemy."
" De Mouy is then at Paris ? Has he, like you, some poor
lady in love with him ?"
"No; but a mortal enemy, whose death he has sworn to
compass. Nothing else but hate makes men commit such
follies as they commit in love."
" Thank you, sire !"
" Oh, I do not speak of our present follies, but those past
and to come. But let us leave off this conversation, for my time
is short."
" You leave Paris, then ?"
"To-night."
"Your affairs in Paris are finished?"
" My only business was to see you."
" Gascon !"
" Ma mie, it is true; but we have a few more hours to pass
together, and then we separate for ever."
"Oh, Henry," said Charlotte, "nothing but my love lasts for
ever."
It was arranged that Henry should leave the house at twelve
o'clock, that he and his companions should escort Madame de
Sauve to the Louvre, and should go from thence to the Rue de
Cerisaie, where Maurevel dwelt.
The three Huguenots had been on guard about an hour when
they saw a man, followed at some distance by five others, ap-
proach the door of the house, and apply successively several
keys to the lock.
At this sight, De Mouy sprang from his concealment, and
catching the man by the arm :
"Stay !" said he; "you do not enter there !"
EPILOGUE.
435
The man started, and his hat fell off.
" De Mouy de Saint-Phale !" cried he.
"Maurevel!" thundered the Huguenot, brandishing his sword;
{ I sought you, and you come to find me !"
But he did not forget Henry, and turning to the window, he
whistled like the Bearnese shepherds.
" That is sufficient," said he to Saucourt.
" Now then, murderer !"
Maurevel had time to draw a pistol from his belt, and level-
ling it at the young man:
" This time," said the king's slayer, "you are dead."
But De Mouy sprang on one side, and the ball passed by
him.
" It is my turn now!" cried he; and he dealt Maurevel so
terrible a thrust with his rapier, that it traversed his thick buff
belt, and inflicted a severe wound.
Maurevel uttered so piercing a cry, that his followers
thought he was killed, and ran away down the Rue St/Honore.
Maurevel, seeing himself abandoned, took to flight, crying,
" Help ! help !"
De Mouy, Saucourt, and Barthelemy pursued him hotly.
As they entered the Rue de Grenelle, a man sprang out of
a window on the first-floor.
It was Henry.
Warned by De Mouy's signal, and by the report of the pistol,
that something had occurred, he hastened to the assistance of
his friends.
Active and vigorous, he dashed after them sword in hand.
A cry guided him ; it came from the Barrier des Sergens; it
was Maurevel, who, hard pressed by De Mouy, called again for
help.
He was forced to turn, or else be run through the back: he
turned, therefore, and thrust fiercely at De Mouy, and pierced
his scarf; De Mouy lounged in his turn, and a second time
Wounded him.
" At him—at him !" cried Henry.
De Mouy needed no exhortation: he charged Maurevel
again, who, pressing his hand over his wound, took to flight
once more.
" Kill him quickly !" cried the king. " Here are the
soldiers !"
Maurevel, breathless and exhausted could go no further;
28—2
436
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
he fell on one knee, and presented his sword-point to De
Mouy.
" They are only two !" cried he. " Fire—fire !"
Saucourt and Barthelemy had been carried away in pursuit
of the other soldiers, so that De Mouy and the king found
themselves opposed to four men.
" Fire !" cried Maurevel, whilst one of the soldiers prepared
his arquebuss.
" Yes; but first die—assassin, murderer, traitor—die !"
So saying, De Mouy seized Maurevel's sword with one hand,
and plunged his own so violently into his breast, that he pinned
him to the earth.
"Take care—take care !" cried Henry.
De Mouy sprang back, leaving his sword in the body of
Maurevel, for a soldier was in the act of firing at him.
Henry instantly passed his sword through the soldier's body,
who fell, uttering a cry.
The two others betook themselves to flight.
" Come, De Mouy, come !" said Henry. " We have not a
moment to lose; if we are recognised, we are lost!"
"One moment, sire, whilst I recover my sword. You do
not suppose I would leave it sticking in the body of that
wretch !"
He went towards Maurevel, who lay, to all appearance, de-
prived of motion,but themoment that De Mouy laid his hand on
the hilt of the sword which had remained in his body, he raised
himself, with the petronel in his hand, which the soldier had
dropped as he fell, and placing the muzzle full against De
Mouy's breast, pulled the trigger.
De Mouy fell without a cry. He was killed outright.
Henry rushed towards Maurevel, but he had fallen again, and
the king's sword pierced only a dead carcase.
It was necessary for him to flee; the noise had attracted a
great number of persons, and the guard might arrive. Henry
then looked about him, to see if there was a face he knew, and
gave a cry of joy, as he recognised Maitre la Huriere.
" My dear La Huriere, look after De Mouy, I pray you;
although I have great fear that he is past hope. Have him
taken to your house, and if he still lives, spare no expense—
here is my purse : as to the other, leave the scoundrel to rot in
the kennel like a dog !"
"But yourself?" said La Huriere.
EPILOGUE.
437
" I have a farewell to make. I will hasten, and be back with
you in ten minutes. Have my horses ready."
Henry then hastened away in the direction of the little house
in the Croix-des-Petits-Champs; but as he turned the corner,
he stopped, in great alarm.
There was a great crowd before the door.
" What has happened in this house ?" inquired Henry.
" Oh," replied a bystander, " a terrible affair, sir ! A beau-
tiful lady has been stabbed by her husband, to whom some one
had sent a note, informing him that she was there with her
lover."
" And the husband ?" cried Henry.
" Has gone."
"The wife?"
"Is there still."
" Dead ?"
" Not yet; but there is no hope."
" Oh," exclaimed Henry, " cursed fate !" and he rushed into
the house.
The room was filled with people, all surrounding the bed on
which lay poor Charlotte, stabbed with two blows of a poniard.
Her husband, who had for two years concealed his jealousy of
Henry, had seized this opportunity of avenging himself.
" Charlotte, Charlotte !" cried Henry, falling on his knees at
the bedside.
Charlotte opened her beautiful eyes, already veiled by death,
and gave a cry which made the blood flow from her two
wounds ; and making an effort to rise, she said :
" Oh, I was sure I could not die without seeing him once
more !"
And, as if she had awaited the moment of Henry's coming
to die, she pressed her lips on the King of Navarre's forehead,
and murmuring for the last time, " I love thee!" fell back, and
expired.
Henry could not remain a moment longer without his life
being in jeopardy. He drew his dagger, cut off one of those
long and fair tresses he had so often admired and pressed to
his lips, and sobbing bitterly, amidst the sobs of the lookers-on,
who had no idea that their sympathies were excited for persons
of such high estate, left the room.
" Friend, mistress," cried Henry, in despair; " all forsake me,
all leave me, all fail me at once !"
438
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
" Yes, sire," said a man who had quitted the group before the
house, and followed Henry; "but the throne is still left to
you."
" Rene !" cried Henry.
"Yes, sire, Rene—who still watches over you. The wretch
Maurevel named you as he died. They know you are in Paris
—the archers are seeking for you—fly ! fly !"
" And yet you say, Rene, that I, a fugitive, shall be king ?"
" Look, sire," said the Florentine, pointing out to the king a
star which appeared alone, brilliant amongst the folds of a
golden cloud; "it is not I who say so, but that/"
Henry heaved a sigh and disappeared in the darkness.
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The Phantom Ship.
Olla Podrida.
The Poacher.
Percival Keene.
Monsieur Violet.
Rattlin, the Reefer.
Valerie.
The Pirate, and The
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J. F. COOPER.
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The Pathfinder. (L. 2.)
The Deerslayer. (L. 1.)
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The Prairie.
The Spy.
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Homeward Bound.
Eve Effingham.
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Miles Wallingford.
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Lionel Lincoln.
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Precaution.
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Heidenmauer.
Mark's Reef.
Ned Myers.
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Jack Tier.
Mercedes.
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5
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Redgauntlet.
Mrs. RADCLIFFE.
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Essays of Elia. Charles Lamb.
Notre Dame. Victor Hugo.
Gulliver's Travels. Swift.
Last Essays of Elia. C. Lamb.
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Baron Trenck.
The Swiss Family Robinson.
Rory O'More. Lover.
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6
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