La Dame de Monsoreau (30 page)

" But, friend Gorenflot, it seems to me that you have to preach a sermon," said Chicot.

" The sermon is here," said the monk, slapping his forehead, which was already beginning to partake of the ruddy color of his cheeks.

" At half-past nine," continued Ohicot.

" I lied," said the monk, — " omnis homo mendax confiteor"

" Well, at what hour is it to take place ? "

" At ten."

" At ten ? I thought the abbey closed at nine."

" Let it close," said Gorenflot, looking at the candle through the ruby contents of his glass; " let it close, I have a key."

" The key of the abbey ! " cried Chicot, " you have the key of the abbey ? "

" Here, in my pocket," said Gorenflot, tapping a part of his robe.

" Impossible," answered Chicot, " I know what monastic rules are. I have made retreats in three convents : the key of an abbey is never confided to a mere brother."

" Here it is," said Gorenflot, falling back in his chair, and holding up a coin exultingly before the eyes of Chicot.

" Let me see. Hah ! money," sneered Chicot ; " you corrupt the brother porter and return at whatever hour you like, you miserable sinner! "

Gorenflot opened his mouth from ear to ear, with that idiotic, good-natured smile peculiar to the drunkard.

" Sufficit" he stammered.

And he was hurriedly restoring the coin to his pocket.

" Stay," said Chicot, " hold a moment. Bless my eyes ! what a queer coin! "

" With the effigy of the heretic on it," said Gorenflot. " Look — a hole through the heart."

" Yes, I see," answered Chicot, " a tester minted by the Beam monarch; and the hole is there, too."

" Made by a poniard! " said Gorenflot. " Death to the heretic ! Whoever kills the heretic is canonized before his death, and I freely give up my place in paradise to him."

" Oho !" muttered Chicot, " things are beginning to take shape j but the rascal is not yet drunk enough."

t

And he filled the monk's glass again.

" Yes," cried the Gascon, " .death to the heretic ! and long live the Mass ! "

" Long live the Mass !" said Gorenflot, gulping down the contents of his glass, " death to the heretic, and long live the Mass ! "

"'So!" said Chicot, who, at sight of the tester in his comrade's

enormous hand, remembered the careful examination made by

the brother porter of the hands of the monks who had flocked

to the abbey porch, " so you show this coin to the brother porter

- and " -

" I enter," said Gorenflot.

« Without trouble ? "

" As easily as this wine enters my stomach."

And the monk treated himself to a fresh dose of the generous liquid.

" Why, then, if what you say is correct, you have n't to steal in ? "

" I steal in!" stammered Gorenflot, now completely intoxicated ; " when Gorenflot arrives, the folding-doors are opened wide before him."

" And then you deliver your sermon ? "

" And then I deliver my sermon; here is how the thing is managed: I arrive, do you hear ? I ar-rive — Chi-cot!"

" I should say I hear ; I 'm all ears."

" I arrive, then, as I was telling you. The congregation is numerous and select: there are barons; there are counts; there are dukes."

" And even princes."

"And even princes," repeated the monk; " you 're right — princes, in good earnest. I enter humbly among the faithful of the Union; there is a cry for Brother Gorenflot, and I come forward."

And thereupon the monk rose.

"That's just it," said Chicot, "you come forward."

" And I come forward," repeated Gorenflot, trying to be as good as his word. But, before he made the first step, he stumbled at a corner of the table and fell in a heap on the floor.

" Bravo ! " cried the Gascon, lifting him up and setting him on a chair; " you come forward, you bow to your audience, and

"No, I don't say, it is my friends who say."

" Your friends say what ? "

" My friends say : ' Brother Gorenflot ! Brother Gorenflot's sermon ! ' A fine name for a Leaguer is Gorenflot, is n't it ? "

And the good monk repeated his name in tones of admiring approval.

" A fine name for a Leaguer," said Chicot to himself.; " what truths is the wine in this drunkard going to let out ? "

" Then I begin."

And the monk rose to his feet, shutting his eyes because the light hurt them, leaning against the wall because he was dead drunk.

" You begin," said Chicot, propping him against the wall as Paillasse does Harlequin in the pantomime.

" I begin : < My brethren, this is a fine day for the faith ; my brethren, this is a very fine day for the faith ; my brethren, this is an exceedingly fine day for the faith.' "

After this superlative, Chicot saw there was nothing more to be got out of the monk; so he let him go.

Brother Gorenflot, who owed his equilibrium solely to the support of Chicot, slipped along the wall like a badly shored plank as soon as that support was withdrawn, hitting the table with his feet as he fell and knocking several empty bottles off it by the shock.

" Amen! " said Chicot.

Almost at that very instant, a snore like unto a roar of thunder shook the window of the narrow apartment.

'• Good ! " said Chicot, " the pullet's legs are beginning their work. Our friend is in for a good twelve hours' sleep, and I can undress him easily."

Judging there was no time to lose, Chicot loosened the cords of the monk's robe, pulled it off, and, turning Gorenflot over as if he had been a sack of flour, rolled him in the table-cloth, tied a napkin about his head, and, with the monk's frock hid under his cloak, passed into the kitchen.

" Maitre Bonhomet," said he, handing the innkeeper a rose noble, " that 's for our supper; and this one is for the supper of my horse, which I commend to your good graces; and this other one, particularly, is donated with the intention that you awake not the worthy Brother Gorenflot, who sleepeth like one of the elect."

" Do not be uneasy, all shall be done as you have requested,

M. Chicot," answered the innkeeper, to show these requests were rendered palatable by what accompanied them.

Trusting to this assurance, Chicot departed, and, being as fleet as a deer and as keen-eyed as a fox, he was soon at the corner of the Rue Saint-Etienne. There, with the Beam tester clutched firmly in his right hand, he donned the brother's robe, and, at a quarter to ten, took his station, not without a beating heart; at the wicket of the abbey of Sainte-Genevieve.

CHAPTER XIX.

HOW CHICOT FOUND IT EASIER TO GET INTO THE ABBEY OF SAINTE GENEVIEVE THAN TO GET OUT OF IT.

CHICOT, before donning the monk's frock, had taken a very useful precaution: it was to increase the width of his shoulders by a clever arrangement of his cloak and of the other garments which his new vestment rendered unnecessary ; his beard was of the same color as -Gorenflot's, and, although one had been born on the banks of the Saorie and the other on those of the Garonne, he had so often mimicked his friend's voice for his own amusement that his imitation of it was now perfection. And, of course, every one knows that the beard and voice are the only things that can be distinguished under the hood of a Capuchin.

The gate was near closing when Chicot arrived, the brother porter only Avaiting for a few loiterers. The Gascon showed his coin, with its efngy of the King of Beam pierced through the heart, and was at once admitted. He followed the two monks who went before him, and entered the convent chapel, with which he was well acquainted, having often gone there with the King ; for the King had taken the abbey of Sainte Genevieve under his special protection.

The chapel was Roman in style, which is the same as saying that it had been erected in the eleventh century, and that, like all the chapels of that period, its choir was built over a crypt or subterranean church. As a consequence, the choir was eight or ten feet higher than the nave. The entrance to it was by two side staircases, between which was an iron door open-

ing on a staircase containing the same number of steps as the two others, and leading to the crypt.

In this choir, which rose higher than the altar and the picture of St. Genevieve — attributed to Rosso — suspended above it, were the statues of Cloris and Clotilde.

The chapel was lighted by only three lamps, one hanging from the centre of the choir, the two others in the nave.

This imperfect light gave a greater solemnity to the interior, apparently doubling its proportions, for the imagination has a tendency to magnify objects seen in the shadow.

At first, Chicot found it somewhat difficult to accustom his eyes to the obscurity ; to train them, he began counting the monks. There were one hundred and twenty in the nave and twelve in the choir, in all a hundred and ' thirty-two. The twelve monks in the choir were ranged in a single row before the altar, and seemed to be guarding the tabernacle, like a file of sentinels.

Chicot was glad to discover that he was not the last to join those whom Brother Gorenflot had called the brothers of the Union. Behind him entered three other monks, clad in their ample gray robes, who took their places in front of the line we have compared to a file of sentinels.

A boyish little monk, whom Chicot had not noticed before, and who was doubtless one of the choristers, went round on a tour of inspection to see that every one was at his post; then he spoke to one of the three last arrivals in front of the altar.

"We are one hundred and thirty-six," said the brother addressed, in a strong voice; "it is God's reckoning."

The hundred and twenty monks kneeling in the nave rose immediately and sat down on chairs or in the stalls. Soon (lie rattling of bolts and bars and hinges announced that the massive doors were being closed.

It was not without some trepidation that Chicot, brave as he was, heard those grating sounds. To give himself time to regain his composure, he went and sat down in the shadow of the pulpit; from there he could easily observe the three monks who seemed to be the most important persons in the assemblage.

Armchairs were brought them, in which they sat with the air of judges; behind them, the twelve monks of the choir stood in a line.

When the tumult occasioned by the shutting of the doors

and the changes in the postures of the monks had ceased, a little bell was rung three times.

It was doubtless the signal for silence; during the first and second tinkling of the bell, there was a prolonged " hush ! " during the third, there was not even a whisper.

" Brother Monsoreau! " said the same monk who had already spoken, " what news do you bring from the province of Anjou ? "

Two things made Chicot at once prick up his ears.

The first was the speaker's voice ; its imperious tones would ring out far more naturally from the visor of a helmet on a field of battle than from the cowl of a monk in a church.

The second was this name of Monsoreau, a name only known a few days before at court, where, as we have seen, it had created some sensation.

A tall monk, whose robe fell about him in angular folds, made his way through the assembly and, with a firm and bold step, entered the pulpit. Chicot tried to get a glimpse of his features. But it was impossible.

" It's just as well," thought he ; " if I cannot see their faces, at least, they can't see mine, either."

" My brothers," said a voice Chicot at once recognized as that of the grand huntsman, " the news from the province of Anjou is not satisfactory; not that we lack sympathizers there, but we do lack representatives. The task of propagating the Union in this province had been confided to Baron de Meridor; but this old man, driven to despair by the recent death of his daughter, has, owing to his sorrow, neglected the affairs of the holy League ; until he is consoled for his loss, we need not count on him. As for myself, I bring three new adherents to the association. It is for you to decide whether these new brothers, for whom I answer as for myself, shall be admitted into our holy Union."

A murmur of approbation spread from rank to rank among the monks, and continued even after Brother Monsoreau had taken his seat.

"Brother La Huriere ! " cried the same monk who had called on Monsoreau, and who, apparently, summoned such of the faithful as his own caprice suggested, " tell us what you have done in the city of Paris."

A man with his hood down took the place in the pulpit vacated by M. de Monsoreau.

" Brothers, you all know," said he, " whether I am devoted to the Catholic faith or not, and what proofs I gave of my devotion on the great day when it triumphed. Yes, my brothers, at that period I am proud to say I was one of the followers of our great Henri de Guise, and it was from the very mouth of M. de Besme himself, whom God reward, that I received the orders he deigned to give me, — orders I have obeyed so faithfully that I wanted to kill my own lodgers. Now my devotion to our holy cause has won me the post of leader of my district, and I venture to say that this will redound to the advantage of Religion. I have been able to take note of all the heretics in the quarter of Saint-Germain-L'Auxerrois, where, in the Rue de TArbre Sec, I still keep the Hotel de la Belle-Etoile, a hotel always at your service, my brothers ; and, when I took note of them, I pointed them out to our friends. Certainly, I no longer thirst for the blood of the Huguenots as I did once, but I cannot disguise from myself the true object of the holy Union we are about to found. "'

"This is worth listening to," said Chicot to himself. " La Huriere, if I remember aright, was a terrible heretic-killer and must have all the League's secrets at his fingers' ends, if these gentry are guided in their revelations by the merits of their confidants."