La Dame de Monsoreau (31 page)

" Speak ! go on ! " cried several voices.

La Huriere, having now an opportunity to display his oratorical powers, such as did not come to him often, although his faith in them was profound, paused to collect his thoughts, coughed, and resumed :

" If I be not mistaken, my brothers, the extinction of individual heretics is not our chief object at present; the great aim of all good Frenchmen is to be assured that they shall not find heretics among the princes entitled by birth to govern them. Now, my brothers, what is our present position ? Francis II., who was zealous, died without children ; Charles IX., who was zealous, died without children ; Henri III., whose acts and beliefs it is not for me to investigate, will probably die without children ; then there remains the Due d'Anjou, who has no children, either, and seems to be lukewarm toward the holy League "

Here the orator was interrupted by several voices, among which was heard that of the grand huntsman.

" Why lukewarm ? " it said, " and what ground have you for this accusation against the prince ? "

" I say lukewarm because he has not yet given in his adhesion to the League, although the illustrious brother who has just spoken promised it positively in his name."

" Who told you he has not done so," the speaker went on, "since there are new adherents? You have no right, in my opinion, to suspect any one, as long as the report is not made. 1 '

" You are right," answered La Huriere, " and I will wait a while longer ; but, after the Due d'Anjou, who is mortal and belongs to a family whose members, you must have noticed, die young, to whom will the crown fall ? To the most ferocious of Huguenots, to a renegade, an apostate, to a Nebuchadnezzar."

Here, not murmurs, but frantic applause, interrupted La Huriere.

" To Henri de Beam, in short, against whom this association is principally directed; to Henri de Beam, generally supposed to be at Pau or Tarbes among his mistresses, but who is really to be met with here in Paris."

" In Paris!" cried several voices ; " in Paris! oh, that is impossible."

"He was here!" said La Huriere. " He was here on the night Madame de Sauves was assassinated, and, very likely, he is here at this moment."

" Death to the Bearnais !" shouted several voices.

" Yes, death to the Bearnais!" cried La Huriere, "and, if by any chance, he should happen to put up at the Belle-^toiie, I '11 answer for him: but he will not come. You do not catch a fox twice in the same hole. He will lodge elsewhere, with some friend, for he has friends, the heretic ! Now, it is important to make short work of these friends or, at least, to know them. Our Union is holy, our League loyal, consecrated, blessed, and encouraged by our Holy Father Gregory XIII. I ask, then, that there be no longer any mystery made about it. I ask that lists be handed to the leaders in the different districts, and that these leaders go from house to house and invite all good citizens to sign them. Those who sign will be regarded as our friends; those who refuse to sign, as our enemies, and, when the need of a second Saint-Barthe-lemy — and it seems more urgent every day — arises, we will do what we did in the first one — we will spare God the labor of separating the good from the wicked."

The thunders of applause that followed this peroration lasted several minutes. At length there was silence, and the grave voice of the monk who had already spoken several times was heard saying :

" The proposition of Brother La Huriere, whom the holy Union thanks for his zeal, will be taken into consideration and discussed by the superior council."

The shouts of acclamation grew more vehement than ever ; La Huriere bowed his acknowledgments repeatedly to the assembly, and then, coming down from the pulpit, went to his seat,- almost crushed by the weight of his triumph.

" Aha ! " murmured Chicot, " I think I am beginning to see. There are people who believe my son Henri is not as zealous a Catholic as was his brother Charles and as are the Guises, and so these same Guises are forming a little party which will be wholly under their hands. Thus, the great Henri, who is a general, will have the army; the fat Mayenne will have the citizens; and the illustrious cardinal will have the church ; and, one fine morning, my poor son Henri will find he has nothing except his rosary, which they will politely invite him to take with him into some monastery or other. A capital plan, by Jupiter ! But then, there is the Due d'Anjou ! -What the devil will they do with the Due d'Anjou ? "

" Brother Gorenflot! " said the voice of the monk who had already called upon the grand huntsman and La Huriere.

Whether because he was absorbed in the reflections we have just outlined for our readers, or because he was not yet accustomed to answer to the name which he had donned along with the frock of the begging friar, Chicot made no answer.

" Brother Gorenflot! " repeated the voice of the little monk, a voice so clear and shrill that it startled Chicot.

" Oho ! " murmured Chicot, " I had almost thought a woman's voice was calling Brother Gorenflot. Would it be that in this honorable assembly not only ranks but sexes are confounded ? "

" Brother Gorenflot," cried the same feminine voice again, " are you not present, then ? "

" Ah ! " whispered Chicot to himself, " I see it; I 'm Brother Gorenflot. Well, so be it."

Then, aloud:

" Yes, yes, here I am," said he, counterfeiting the monk's nasal tones, " here I am. In such profound meditation did

the discourse of our brother La Huriere plunge me that I did not hear my name when called."

Several murmurs of approbation, evoked by the recollection of La Huriere's thrilling oration, arose and gave Chicot time to make some preparation for the ordeal he had to face.

Chicot, it may be said, might not have answered to the name of Gorenflot, since every hood was lowered. But it must be remembered that the number of those present was counted, and if, after an inspection, it was discovered that a man believed to be present was really absent, the situation of Chicot would have been serious indeed.

Chicot did not hesitate for an instant. He arose, assumed an air of great consequence, and slowly ascended the steps of the pulpit, meanwhile drawing his cowl down over his face as low as he could.

" Brethren," said he, in a voice that exactly resembled that of Brother Gorenflot, " I am the brother collector of this convent, and, as you know, this office gives me the right to enter every dwelling. It is a right of which I avail myself for God's service.

" Brethren," he continued, suddenly recalling the monk's exordium, which had been so unexpectedly interrupted by the slumber brought on by his too copious potations, — a slumber in whose potent clasp he still lay helpless, " brethren, the day that has drawn us all together here is a fine day for the faith. Let us speak frankly, my brethren, since we are in the house of the Lord.

" What is the kingdom of France ? A body. Saint Augustine has said : ' Omnis civitas corpus est ': < Every state is a body/ Upon what does the salvation of a body depend ? Upon good health. How is the health of the body preserved ? By prudent bleedings when it suffers from a plethora of strength. Now, it is evident that the enemies of the Catholic religion are too strong, since we are afraid of them; therefore we must again bleed that great body called Society. I am but repeating what is said to me every day by the faithful who supply me with eggs, hams, and money for my convent."

The first part of Chicot's discourse evidently made a lively impression upon his audience.

He paused until the murmurs of approval produced by his eloquence had died away, and then resumed:

" It may, perhaps, be objected that the Church abhors blood.

Ecclesia abhorret a sanguine. But mark this well, my dear brethren : the theologian does not say what kind of blood it is the Church holds in horror, and I am ready to bet an egg against an ox that, at any rate, he was not thinking of the blood of heretics when he spoke. For, just listen to this: Fans malus vorruptorum sanguis, heretico t rum autem pessi-mus! And then, another argument, my brethren : I mentioned the Church! But we are something beside the Church. Brother Monsoreau, who spoke so eloquently a few minutes ago, still keeps, I have n't a doubt about it, his grand huntsman's knife in his belt. Brother La Huriere can handle a spit with the greatest dexterity : Veru agreste, lethiferum tamen instrumentum. And I, too, my brethren, I who am now addressing you, I, even I, Jacques Nepomucene Gorenflot, have shouldered a musket in Champagne and have roasted a Huguenot in my time. That would have been honor enough for me, and would have sufficed to gain Paradise, were it not that during that period I did other things that in the eyes of my confessor rather took from the merit of my act, and so I hastened to enter a monastery."

At this point Chicot was again applauded. He bowed modestly and continued:

" And now it remains for me to speak of the chiefs we have chosen. Certainly, it is very fine of you, and very prudent especially, to come here at night in monks' robes for the purpose of hearing Brother Gorenflot preach. But it seems to me that the duties of our great representatives ought not to stop at that. Such extreme prudence would but excite the mockery of those infernal Huguenots, who, it must be admitted, are the very devil at cutting and thrusting. I demand, then, that we assume an attitude more worthy of the brave men we are, or, at least, wish to appear. What is our object ? The extinction of heresy —why there is nothing to prevent us from crying that from the housetops, as far as I can see. Why should we not march, then, through Paris as a holy procession, with heads erect and our halberds in our hands, instead of assembling like night-thieves who look around every corner to see if the watch be on their track ? But you are, perhaps, asking, Who is the man that will set the example ? Why, I myself ! I, Jacques Nepomucene Gorenflot, an unworthy brother of the Order of St. Genevieve, the humble collector of my convent, — I am ready, if need be, with a coat

of mail on my back, helm on head, and musket on shoulder, to march at the head of all good Catholics who desire to follow me, and this I will do, were it only to call a blush to the cheeks of leaders who, when defending the Church, hide in the dark as if she were some wanton whose quarrel they had espoused." ,

As Chicot's peroration was in harmony with the sentiments of many members of the League, who saw no surer way of attaining their object than by another Saint-Barthelemy, like the one that had occurred six years before, and who were driven to desperation by the slowness of their chiefs, his words aroused general enthusiasm, and all, except the three monks in front, cried out: " Long live the Mass ! Hurrah for Brother Gorenflot! The procession ! the procession ! "

The enthusiasm was the more intense because it was the first time the worthy brother's zeal had been manifested in this fashion. Up to now his friends had no doubt ranked him among the zealous, but among that class of zealous people who are kept within the bounds of prudence by the instinct of self-preservation. And now, here was our brother Gorenflot armed for war and bounding into the full glare of the arena! It excited as much astonishment as admiration, and some, in their delight at such an unexpected transformation, were willing to place Brother Gorenflot, who had preached the first procession, on a level with Peter the Hermit, who had preached the First Crusade.

Luckily or unluckily for the originator of all this excitement, it did not chime in with the policy of the leaders to let him run his course. One of the three silent monks whispered to the little monk, and the lad's silvery voice immediately resounded under the vaults, crying :

"My brothers, it is time to retire; the sitting is over."

The monks rose, muttering that at the next meeting they would insist unanimously on the adoption of the proposal for a procession brought forward by worthy Brother Gorenflot, and made their way slowly to the door. Many of them approached the pulpit and congratulated the monk on his marvellous success ; but Chicot, reflecting that his voice, which, in spite of him, always retained a slight Gascon flavor, might be recognized if heard too near, and that his body, being, when viewed vertically, six or eight inches taller than Brother Gorenflot's, might also, if seen too near, arouse the astonish-

ment of the observer, however much inclined to believe the moral expansion of the preacher had elevated his physical proportions, — Chicot, we say, fell upon his knees, and, like Samuel, seemed absorbed in a confidential conversation with the Lord.

His ecstasy was respected, and Chicot looked on at the exit of the monks from beneath his cowl, in which he had made holes for his eyes, with the greatest satisfaction.

And yet Chicot had very nearly failed in his object. It was the sight of the Due de Mayenne that had induced him to leave Henri III. without even asking permission. It was the sight of Nicolas David that had made him return to Paris. Chicot, as we have said, had taken a double vow of vengeance; but he was too much of a nobody to think of attacking a prince of the house of Lorraine, at least without waiting long and patiently for the opportunity of doing so with safety. This was not the case with Nicolas David, who was a mere Norman lawyer; a crafty knave, though, who had been a soldier before being an attorney, and fencing-master in his regiment as well. Still, Chicot, even if not a fencing-master, had an idea that he did not handle the rapier badly; his great aim, then, was to come to close quarters with his enemy, when, like the doughty knights of old, he would trust in the justice of his cause and in his good sword.

Chicot examined all the monks closely, as they filed out after each other, hoping to detect, if it might be, under frock and cowl the lank, slender figure of Maitre Nicolas, when he suddenly perceived that each monk was submitted to the same examination on leaving as on entering, and was only allowed to depart when he had taken a certain token from his pocket and showed it the brother porter. Chicot at first thought he must be mistaken, and remained a moment in doubt; but this doubt was soon changed into a certainty that made his hair stand on end with terror.

Brother Gorenflot had shown him the token that would enable him to enter, but had forgotten to show him the token that would let him out.

CHAPTER XX.

HOW CHICOT SAW AND HEARD THINGS VERY DANGEROUS TO SEE AND HEAR.

CHICOT came down from the pulpit hurriedly ; he wanted to discover, if he could, the token that would enable him to get out into the street, and to obtain possession of it, if there was yet time. By mingling with the monks that still loitered behind, and peeping over their shoulders, he learned that this token was a star-shaped denier.

Our Gascon had a fair collection of deniers in his pocket, but, unfortunately, none of this peculiar form — a form the more peculiar that it destroyed forever the value of the coin as a circulating medium.

Chicot saw the situation at a glance. If he went to the door and did not produce the token, he was recognized to be an impostor. Nor would the investigation end with this: he would be found out to be Chicot, the King's jester, and although his office gave him many privileges in the Louvre and in the other royal castles, it would lose much of its prestige in the abbey of St. G-enevieve, especially in the present circumstances. In fact, Maitre Chicot saw that he was in a trap ; he took refuge in the shadow of a pillar and crouched down in an angle made by a confession box with this pillar.

" To make things worse," said Chicot to himself, " my ruin will involve the ruin of that ninny of a king of mine, whom I am silly enough to be fond of, although I like to rap him over the knuckles occasionally. If I weren't a fool, I should be now in the hostelry of the Corne d'Abondance, enjoying myself with Brother Gorenflot; but no use wishing for impossibilities now."

And while thus addressing himself, that is to say, addressing the party who had most interest in keeping his words from unfriendly ears, he made himself as small as possible in the position he had taken.

Then the voice of the young chorister was heard from the court-yard, crying:

" Is every one out ? We are going to shut the doors."

There was no answer. Chicot craned his neck, and saw

that the chapal was entirely empty except for the three monks who were seated on benches brought from the middle of the choir.

" Well," thought Chicot, " as long as they do not close the windows, things may go to my satisfaction."

" Let us go over the building," said the chorister to the brother porter.

" The devil ! " said Chicot, " if I had that little monk by the neck, I would n't do a thing to him, oh no ! "

The brother porter lit a taper and, followed by the chorister, began making the tour of the church.

There was not a moment to be lost. The brother porter would pass with his taper within four steps of Chicot, who could not fail to be discovered.

Chicot turned nimbly round the pillar, contriving to keep within the moving shadow ; then he opened the door of the confessional, which was shut only by a latch, and slipped in, closing the door after him.