La Dame de Monsoreau (118 page)

At the end of a few seconds, the King rose.

" If Quelus," said he, " only remember the peculiar parry and thrust I showed him — the parry with the sword and the thrust with the dagger at the same time.

" As for Schomberg, he is so cool that he ought to kill Eibeirac. Maugiron will be very unlucky if he does not easily make away with Livarot. But D'^pernon! ah ! he is lost! Fortunately, he is the one of the four whom I love least. Alas ! his death will not be the only calamity; it will leave Bussy, the terrible Bussy, at full liberty to fall on the others. Ah ! my poor Quelus ! my poor Schomberg ! my poor Maugiron ! "

" Sire ! " said Crillon, outside the door.

" What! already ? " exclaimed the King.

" No, sire, the only news I have for your Majesty is that the Due d'Anjou requests an audience of your Majesty."

" For what purpose ? " asked the King, still speaking through the door.

" He says the moment has come for him to inform your Majesty of the service he has rendered you, and that what he has to say will partly allay your apprehensions at the present moment."

" Well, bring him here," said the King.

But, just as Crillon was returning in pursuance of the royal orders, a rapid step was heard on the stairs, and a voice cried to Crillon :

" I must speak to the King immediately."

The King recognized the voice and opened the door himself.

" Come in, Saint-Luc, come in," he said. " What has hap-

pened now ? Why, good heavens ! what is the matter with you ? Have you been told that they are dead ? "

But Saint-Luc, without hat or sword, his face pale and his clothes spotted with blood, instead of answering the King, hurried into the centre of the hall.

" Sire!" he cried, flinging himself on his knees at the feet of the monarch. " Vengeance ! I have come to ask for vengeance ! "

" My poor Saint-Luc," said the King, " what is the meaning of all this ? Speak. Why do you give way to such despair ? "

" Sire, the noblest of your subjects, the bravest of your soldiers" Here his voice failed him.

" Eh ? " inquired Crillon, advancing a few steps, for Crillon believed he had certain rights, and a right to the last title, particularly.

"Was murdered last night, traitorously murdered, assassinated ! " Saint-Luc was able to say at last with some effort.

The King, whose mind was entirely engrossed by one idea, felt reassured: it was not one of his four friends, since he had seen them all this morning.

" Murdered, assassinated, last night," said Henri. " Of whom are you speaking, pray ? "

" Sire," continued Saint-Luc, " I am well aware you did not like him; but he was loyal, and I swear to you he would, if needful, have shed every drop of his blood for your Majesty ; otherwise, he would not have been my friend."

" Ah !" exclaimed the King, who was beginning to understand.

And something like a gleam of hope, if not of joy, flitted across his face.

" Vengeance ! " cried Saint-Luc, " vengeance, sire, for M. de Bussy!"

" For M. de Bussy ? " repeated the King, dwelling on every syllable.

" Yes, for M. de Bussy, butchered by twenty assassins last night. And it was well for some of them that they were twenty : he killed fourteen."

" M. de Bussy dead ! "

" Yes, sire."

" Then he does not fight this morning," said the King, suddenly, carried away by an impulse he could not resist.

The King was not able to endure the glance that Saint-Luc

hurled at him; on turning away his eyes, he saw Crillon, who was still standing near the door and waiting for new orders.

He made a sign to him to bring in the Duo d'Anjou.

" No, sire, he will not fight," answered Saint-Luc, sternly, " and so I have come to demand not vengeance — I was wrong to use the word before your Majesty— but justice ; for I love my King, and I prize his honor above all things else in the world, and I believe that they who have murdered M. de Bussy have rendered a deplorable service to your Majesty."

The Due d'Anjou was now at the door; he stood calm and impassive, like a statue of bronze.

Saint-Luc's words had enlightened the King; they made clear to him the service which his brother claimed he had rendered him.

His eyes met the duke's, and he had 110 longer any doubt; the look on the prince's face signified a yes, and this affirmation was emphasized by a scarcely perceptible nod.

" Do you know what people will say now ? " cried Saint-Luc. " They will say, should your friends conquer, your favorites owe their victory to the fact that you caused Bussy to be assassinated."

" And who will dare to say that, monsieur ?" asked the King.

" Everybody, by God!" said Crillon, taking part bluntly and unceremoniously in the conversation, as was his custom.

"No, monsieur," answered the King, disturbed and overpowered by the opinion of one who was the bravest man in his kingdom, now that Bussy was no more ; " no, monsieur, they cannot say that, for you shall name to me the assassin."

Saint-Luc noticed a shadow on the wall. It was that of the Due d'Anjou, who had advanced into the room. Saint-Luc turned round and recognized him.

" Yes, sire, I will name him ! " he cried, rising, " for I wish, at any risk, to show that your Majesty is not responsible for such an abominable deed."

« Well! do so."

The Due d'Anjou stood quietly waiting.

" Sire, last night a trap was set for Bussy. While he was visiting a woman who loved him, the husband, warned by a traitor, returned home with a band of assassins ; these assassins were posted everywhere: in the street, the courtyard, and even in the garden."

If the shutters, as we have related in a previous chapter, had not been closed in the King's apartment, the prince, in spite of his self-control, would have been seen to turn pale at these words.

" Bussy defended himself like a lion, sire, but overwhelmed by numbers, he "

,"He was killed, and justly; lam not going, certainly, to avenge the death of an adulterer."

" Sire, I have not finished," answered Saint-Luc. " The unfortunate man, after defending himself for nearly half an hour in the chamber, and after triumphing over his enemies, escaped, bleeding, wounded, mutilated. All he required was for some one to offer him a saving hand, which I would have offered him, had I not, along with the woman he confided to my charge, been seized, bound, and gagged by the assassins. Unfortunately for them, they did not deprive me of sight as well as of speech, and I saw, sire, — saw. two men approach the unfortunate Bussy, who was suspended by the thigh from the spikes of an iron grating; I heard the wounded man's * appeal for help, for he had the right to regard these two men as two friends. Well, sire, one of the two — it is horrible to relate, but, believe me, sire, it was far more horrible to see and to hear — one of the two ordered the other to fire, and that other obeyed."

Crillon clenched his hand and frowned.

" And you know the assassin ? " inquired the King, affected, in spite of himself.

" Yes/' answered Saint-Luc.

And, turning toward the prince, he said, in tones and with gestures that heightened the intensity of his long-repressed hatred:

"Monseigneur is the assassin! the prince, the friend is the assassin !"

The King had expected the blow, which the duke received without emotion.

" Yes," he said, coolly, " yes, what M. de Saint-Luc says he saw and heard is true; but it. was I who had M. de Bussy killed, and your Majesty will appreciate my action, for it is true that M. de Bussy was my servant, but this morning, notwithstanding all my efforts to dissuade him from doing so, M. de Bussy insisted on bearing arms against your Majesty."

" You lie, assassin ! you lie !" cried Saint-Luc. " Bussy

pierced by daggers, Bussy with his hands hacked by swords, Bussy with his shoulder shattered by bullets, Bussy hanging by the leg from an iron trellis, Bussy was no longer fit for anything except to excite the pity of his bitterest enemies, and his bitterest enemies would have flown to his aid. But you, the assassin of La Mole and Coconnas, you killed Bussy, as you have killed, one after another, all your friends; you killed Bussy, not because he was your brother's enemy, but because he was the confidant of your secrets. Ah ! Monsoreau knew well why you committed this crime."

" Cordieu ! " murmured Crillon, " why am not I the King! "

" I have to submit to insult, and that in. your very presence, brother," said the duke, livid with terror, for the deadly hate that shone in Saint-Luc's eyes and the truculent scorn expressed by Crillon's attitude made him feel that he was not safe.

" Withdraw, Crillon," said the King.

Crillon passed out.

" Justice, sire, justice ! " Saint-Luc continued to say.

" Yes, sire," said the duke, " punish me for saving your friends this morning and enabling you to ensure a brilliant vindication of your cause, which is also mine."

" And I," cried Saint-Luc, casting all self-restraint to the winds, " I say that any cause which you champion is accursed, and that the wrath of God blasts everything which you touch ! Sire, sire ! your brother protects our friends — woe to them ! "

The King shook with terror.

At this very moment indistinct voices were heard outside, then hurried footsteps, and then eager questions, questions that were followed by a deathlike silence.

In the midst of the silence, as if a voice from heaven had come to confirm Saint-Luc's words, the door trembled under three blows slowly and solemnly struck by the vigorous hand of Crillon. .

A cold perspiration stood on Henri's forehead and his features were convulsed with agony.

" Conquered ! " he cried, "my poor friends conquered !"

" What did I tell, you, sire ? " exclaimed Saint-Luc.

The duke wrung his hands in despair.

" Behold, dastard ! " cried the young man, in a magnificent outburst of emotion ; " behold the manner in which assassinations save the honor of princes ! Come, then, and murder me, too ; I have no sword ! "

And he flung his silk glove into the duke's face.

Franqois shrieked with fury and turned livid.

But the King saw nothing, heard nothing; he dropped his head on his hands and groaned.

" Oh! my poor friends," he murmured, " /they are vanquished, wounded ! Who will give some reliable tidings of them ? "

" I, sire," answered Chicot.

The King recognized the voice of his friend, and held out his arms.

« Well ? " said he.

" Two are dead already, and the third is at the last gasp."

" Which of them is the third who is not yet dead ? "

« Quelus, sire ! "

" And where is he ? "

"At the Hotel de Boissy, where I ordered him to be carried."

The King listened no further, but rushed out of his apartment, uttering piteous cries.

Saint-Luc had taken Diane home to her friend, Jeanne de Brissac; hence his delay in appearing at the Louvre.

Jeanne spent three days and three nights in attendance on the unhappy woman, who was a prey to the most frightful delirium.

On the fourth day, Jeanne, overpowered by fatigue, went to take a little rest. When she returned, two hours later, to her friend's chamber, Diane was no longer there.

It is known that Quelus, the only one of the three defenders of the royal cause that for a time survived his wounds, died in the hotel to which he had been sent by Chicot, after an agony of thirty days, and in the arms of the King.

Henri was inconsolable.

He erected for his friends three magnificent tombs, on which their effigies were sculptured in marble and in their natural size.

He founded masses for them, asked the prayers of the clergy in their behalf, and added to his usual orisons the following distich, which he repeated every day of his life after his morning and evening prayers :

" O Jesus Christ! have mercy on Quelus, Schomberg, and Maugiron I "

For nearly three months Crillon kept watch over the Due d'Anjou, for whom the King now entertained the deepest hatred, and whom he never forgave.

Matters continued in this way until the month of September, when Chicot, who was always with his master, and who would have consoled him had consolation been possible, received the following letter, dated from the priory of Beaume. It was written by an amanuensis:

" DEAR M. CHICOT :

" The air is pleasant in this country of ours, and the vintage promises to be very fine in Burgundy this year. I have been told that the King, our sovereign lord, whose life it would seem I saved, is still sorrowful. Bring him with you to the priory, dear M. Chicot. We '11 get him to drink a wine of 1550, which I discovered in my cellar, and which is capable of making those who drink it forget all their troubles, however great they may be; he will be delighted to hear this, I have no doubt, for I have found in the Holy Book this admirable text: ' Good wine rejoiceth the heart of man!' It is very beautiful in Latin. I will show it to you ; Come, then, dear M. Chicot; come with the King and M. d'lSpernon and M. de Saint-Luc; and you '11 see how we '11 fatten you all up.

" The reverend prior DOM GORENFLOT, "who declares himself your very humble servant and friend.

" P.S. — Please tell the King I have not had time to pray for the souls of his friends as he requested, on account of the trouble my installation has given me; but, as soon as the vintage comes to an end, I will certainly attend to them."

" Amen ! " said Chicot. " These poor devils will have a nice sort of a mediator with God when you do!"

END.

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