La Dame de Monsoreau (109 page)

He visited the crypt in company with all the monks, kissed the shrine, and repeated the most lugubrious of the psalms, all the time beating his breast with increasing energy.

Then the prior began his exhortation, to -which the King listened with the same marks of fervent contrition.

At length, in obedience to a gesture of the Due de Guise, Joseph Foulon, with a profound salutation, said to Henri:

" Sire, will it please you now to come and lay your earthly crown at the feet of the eternal King ? "

" Let us go," said the King, simply.

And, escorted by the whole community, he proceeded toward the cells opening on the corridor on the left, which could be dimly discerned from the crypt.

Henri was apparently deeply affected. He never ceased beating his breast, and the big rosary, which he quickly turned in his hands at the same time, rang on the chaplet of ivory deaths' heads that was suspended from his belt.

At length he reached the cell; on the threshold stood Gorenflot, his face all in a glow and his eyes sparkling like carbuncles.

" Here ? " inquired the King.

" Bight here," answered the fat monk.

The King might be excused for a little hesitation, because at the end of the corridor he saw a door, or rather a mysterious-looking grating that opened on a steep slope which was plunged in darkness.

Henri entered the cell.

" Hie portus salutis" he murmured, in tones of emotion.

" Yes, indeed," answered Foulon, " this is a harbor of safety"

" Leave us now," said Gorenflot with a majestic gesture.

And immediately the door was shut, and the others departed.

The King, noticing a stool at the back of the cell, sat down and placed his hands on his knees.

" Ah ! so here you are, then, Herod; here you are, you pagan, you Nebuchadnezzar," said Gorenflot, abruptly, planting his thick hands on his hips.

The King appeared astonished.

"Is it to me you are speaking, brother ? " said he.

" Yes, it is to you I am speaking — and to whom do I speak ? Do I not speak to a wretch to whom any epithet, however vile, can be applied with perfect truth ? "

" My brother," murmured the King.

" Bah ! you have no brother here. I have long been thinking out a sermon, and now you shall have it — I divide it into three parts, as every good preacher should do. In the first place, you are a tyrant; in the second, a satyr ; and lastly, you are dethroned."

"Dethroned, brother?" violently cried the King, who was invisible in the darkness.

" Neither more nor less. This abbey is not like Poland; no chance of taking yourself off here."

" Then I have been entrapped."

" Learn, 0 Valois, that a King is but a man, even when he happen to be a man."

" This is violence, brother ! "

" To be sure it is ; do you imagine we imprisoned you in order to bow and scrape to you ? "

"You violate the spirit of your holy religion, brother."

" Is there any holy religion ? " cried Gorenflot.

" Oh! " exclaimed the King, " a saint to utter such horrors ! "

" So much the worse, I have said them."

" You expose yourself to damnation."

" Is there any damnation ? "

" You talk like an unbeliever, brother."

" Stop that, I say; I don't want any of your preaching. Are you ready, Valois ? "

" To do what ? "

" To resign your crown. I have been asked to invite you to do so ; therefore, I invite you."

" But you are committing a mortal sin."

" Oho ! am I ? " said Gorenflot, with a cynical smile. " Well, I am empowered to grant absolution, and I absolve myself in advance. Come now, Brother Valois, do you renounce ? "

« What ? "

" The throne of France."

« Sooner death ! "

"Eh ? Well, then, you'll die. Hold on ! here 's the prior coming back. Decide ! "

" I have my guards, my friends; I shall be able to defend myself."

" Possibly ; but we intend killing you first."

" Give me, at least, a moment for reflection."

" Not an instant, not a second."

" Your zeal gets the better of you, brother," said the prior. And he made a sign to the King with his hand which meant:

" Sire, your request is granted."

And the prior again closed the door.

Henri fell into a profound revery.

" Very well," said he, after reflecting for about ten minutes, " I accept the sacrifice."

No sooner were the words spoken than there was a knock at the door.

" It is done," said Gorenflot ; " he accepts."

The King heard something like a murmur of mingled joy and surprise outside in the corridor.

" Read him the act," said a voice which produced such a startling effect on the King that he looked out through a grating of the door. A roll of parchment passed from the hand of a monk into that of Gorenflot.

Gorenflot read the act to the King with a good deal of difficulty. Henri was very dejected and buried his face in his hands.

" And if I refuse to sign ? " he cried, the tears starting from his eyes.

" It will be doubly your ruin," answered the Due de Guise, in a voice muffled by his cowl. " Consider yourself as dead to the world, and do not force your subjects to shed the blood of him who was once their King."

" I will not be compelled," said Henri.

" It is what I anticipated," whispered the duke to his sister, who had a sinister gleam in her eyes.

" Go, brother," he added, addressing Mayenne, " see that every one is armed and that all preparations are made."

" For what ? " asked the King, plaintively.

" For everything," said the prior.

The King grew more despairing than ever.

" Corbleu ! " cried Gorenflot, " I hated thee, Valois, but now my scorn is stronger than my hate. Sign, sign, or by this hand alone shalt thou perish."

" Have patience, patience," said the King; " let me pray to the Sovereign Master of us all for resignation."

" He would reflect a second time ! " cried Gorenflot.

" Give him till midnight," said the cardinal.

"Thanks, charitable-Christian," exclaimed the King, in a paroxysm of despair. " May God reward you ! "

" His brain has really become enfeebled," murmured the Due de Guise ; " we serve France by dethroning him."

" No matter," said the duchess ; " feeble or not feeble, I '11 have the pleasure of clipping him."

During this dialogue, Gorenflot, with folded arms, was overwhelming Henri with the most violent insults and reminding him of all the foul sins of his scandalous life.

Suddenly a dull noise was heard outside the convent.

" Silence! " cried the voice of the Due de Guise.

There was the deepest silence in an instant. Presently it became possible to distinguish blows, struck forcibly and at regular intervals on the resounding gates of the abbey.

Mayenne came running up as fast as his obesity allowed him.

" Brothers," said he, " there is a troop of armed men in front of the portal."

" They have come for him," said the duchess.

" The more reason why he should be made to sign quick," said the cardinal.

" Sign, Valois, sign! " cried Gorenflot, in a voice of thunder.

" You gave me till midnight," said the King, piteously.

" Ah! you are changing your mind, are you ? You expect aid"

" Undoubtedly, I do. I still have a chance."

" To die, if he does not sign at once," answered the shrill, imperious voice of the duchess.

Gorenflot seized the King's wrist and handed him a pen.

The noise outside increased.

" Another troop !" shouted a monk, who came running up the corridor ; " it has surrounded the court on the left."

" Sign ! " cried Mayenne and the duchess, impatiently.

The King dipped his pen in the ink-bottle.

" The Swiss ! " Foulon hurried in to say ; " they have seized the cemetery on the right, and the entire abbey is now invested."

" Well, we will defend ourselves/' answered Mayenne, resolutely.

" With such a hostage in our hands, we need not surrender at discretion."

" He has signed ! " roared Gorenflot, tearing the parchment from the hand of Henri, who, utterly depressed, buried his head in his hood, and his hood in his arms.

" Then you are king/' said the cardinal to the duke. " Take the precious document and hide it quickly."

The King, in the extravagance of his grief, overturned the little lamp that alone shed a light on the scene; but the duke already held the parchment.

" What shall we do ! what shall we do! " asked a monk whose robe covered a gentleman armed from top to toe. " Crillon is here with the French guards and threatens to break open the doors. Listen."

" In the King's name! " cried the powerful voice of Crillon.

" What nonsense! there is no longer a king," Gorenflot shouted back through a window.

" Who is the ruffian that says so ? " answered Crillon.

" I ! I ! I! " replied Gorenflot from the darkness, in the most arrogant and provoking tone of voice imaginable.

" Some one point out the scoundrel to me, so that I can have half a dozen bullets planted in his belly/' said Crillon.

And Gorenflot, seeing the guards level their ^weapons, dropped down and fell on his back in the middle of the cell.

" Break open the door, M. Crillon," said, amid general silence, a voice that raised the hair on the head of all the monks, real or pretended, that were in the corridor.

The voice came from a man who issued forth from the ranks of the soldiers and marched up to the steps of the main entrance to the abbey.

" Yes, sire," answered Crillon, giving a tremendous blow on the door with an axe.

It shook the very walls.

" What do you want ? " said the prior, appearing at a window, and trembling with terror.

"Ah, it is you, M. Foulon," replied the same calm and haughty voice. "I want my jester, who went to spend the night in one of your cells. I am at a loss for Chicot. Without him I feel quite bored in the Louvre."

" And I 'm not bored at all, I never had such fun in my life, my son," answered Chicot, getting rid of his hood and pushing through the throng of monks, who recoiled with howls of terror.

At this moment the Due de Guise had a lamp brought to him and read at the bottom of the act the signature, still fresh, that had been obtained with so much difficulty:

« Chicot I."

" ' Chicot I.,' " he cried ; " a thousand devils ! "

" Well," said the cardinal, " we are ruined; let us fly."

" Ah ! bah ! " cried Chicot to Gorenflot, who was almost in a swoon, as he lashed him with the cord he had worn round his robe, " ah ! bah ! "

CHAPTER XC.

PRINCIPAL AND INTEREST.

.As the King spoke and the conspirators recognized him, their stupefaction gave place to dismay.

The abdication signed " Chicot I." changed their dismay to fury.

Chicot threw away his frock from his shoulders, crossed his arms, and, while Gorenflot was taking to his heels, sustained the first shock, smiling and impassive.

But he passed through an awful moment.

The gentlemen, quivering with rage, advanced on the Gascon, determined to avenge the cruel mystification of which they had been the victims.

But this man with no other weapons than the two arms that covered his breast, this man with the smiling lips that seemed to defy so much strength to attack so much weakness, had, perhaps, more effect in arresting their progress than even the cardinal, who uttered strong remonstrances, and pointed out

that the death of Chicot would serve no end, but, on the contrary, would be terribly avenged by the King, his jester's accomplice in the scene of appalling buffoonery.

The result was that daggers and rapiers were lowered before Chicot, who, whether from a spirit of self-sacrifice, and he was capable of it, or from his ability to discern their thoughts, continued to laugh in their faces.

Meanwhile, the King's threats and Crillon's blows became more violent.

It was evident the door could not long resist an attack, which they did not even think of repelling.

So, after a moment's deliberation, the Due de Guise gave the order to retreat.

This order brought a mocking smile to Chicot's lips.

During the nights he had spent with Gorenflot, he had examined the underground passage, had examined the door at the outlet and brought it to the notice of the King, who had stationed there Tocquenot, lieutenant of the Swiss guards.

It was, therefore, evident that the Leaguers would be trapped, one after the other.

The cardinal was the first to steal away, followed by fifty gentlemen.

Then Chicot saw the duke pass with about the same number of monks ; next followed Mayenne, whose preposterous stomach and general pursiness were obstacles to anything like activity; he was naturally, then, entrusted with the defence of the rear.

When he dragged his lumpish, unwieldly body past Goren-flot's cell, the jester did more than laugh, he held both his sides ; he was, literally, convulsed.

Ten minutes slipped by; Chicot listened eagerly, thinking every moment he could hear the noise of the Leaguers being driven back into the tunnel; but, instead of that, the noise made by them, was, to his amazement, gradually dying away.

Suddenly a thought flashed through the Gascon's mind, and instead of roaring with laughter, he gnashed his teeth with rage.

A considerable time had now elapsed and the Leaguers did not return. Had they perceived that the door was guarded, and discovered another outlet ?

Chicot was rushing out of his cell, when, all at once, he found the door obstructed by a shapeless mass that rolled at his feet and tore the hair of its head out by fistfuls.