La Dame de Monsoreau (48 page)

" < Of what ? '

"' That Maitre Nicolas, as you call him, is dying.'

" ' The more reason why you should do my bidding without any delay.'

"' But you do not know, perhaps, that he is dying of a malignant fever. 7

" ' Indeed ? ' said the man ; ' then there is still greater need for you to hurry ? '

" ' What! you persist ?'

"' Yes.'

" < In spite of the danger ?'

" < In spite of everything. I tell you I must see him.'

" The little man was getting angry and spoke in an imperious tone that admitted of no reply.

" Consequently I led him to the chamber of the dying man."

" Then he is there," said Chicot, pointing in the direction of the chamber.

" He is there ; is it not funny ? "

" Exceedingly funny," answered Chicot.

" How unfortunate that we can't hear them ! "

" Yes, it is unfortunate."

" The scene must be quite comical."

" Comical to the highest degree; but what hinders you from entering ? "

" He dismissed me."

" Under what pretext ? "

" He said he was going to confess."

" What hinders you from listening at the door ? "

" You're right," said the innkeeper, darting out of the room.

Chicot at once ran to his hole.

Pierre de Gondy sat by the sick man's pillow, but they spoke so low that he could not hear a single word of their conversation.

Moreover, even had he heard this conversation, now drawing to its close, he would have learned little. At the end of five minutes M. de Gondy rose, took leave of the dying man, and retired.

Chicot ran to the window. A lackey, mounted on a crop-eared horse, held the bridle of the big charger of which Bernouillet had spoken ; a moment later the Guise's ambassador made his appearance, leaped into the saddle, and turned the corner of the street, which led into the Rue de Paris.

" Mordieu ! " said Chicot, " I hope he has n't taken the genealogy along with him ; in any case, I '11 come up with him, though I have to kill half a score of horses in order to do so."

" But no," said he, " these lawyers are cunning as foxes, mine particularly, and I suspect— Where in the devil, I wonder," continued Chicot, stamping the floor impatiently and evidently having got hold of another idea connected with the first one, " where in the devil is that rascal Gorenflot ? "

At this moment the innkeeper returned.

« Well ? " asked Chicot.

" He is gone," said his host.

« The confessor ? "

" As much a confessor as I am."

" And the sick man ? "

" Fainted, I understand, after the conference."

" You 're quite sure he 's still in his room ? "

" What a question ! he '11 probably never leave it except for the cemetery."

" Very well, that is all I wanted; please send me my relative as soon as he comes in."

"Even if he is tipsy?"

" No matter how he is."

" The case is then urgent ? "

" Yes, the good of the cause is at stake."

Bernouillet hurried out immediately ; he was a man of zeal.

It was now Chicot's turn to have a fever; he was undecided whether he should run after Gondy or force himself on David. If the lawyer was as ill as the innkeeper claimed, it was probable he had given all his despatches to M. de Gondy. Chicot stalked up and down his room like a madman, striking his forehead and trying to find an idea among the millions of globules bubbling in his brain.

He could hear nothing in the next chamber, and all he could see was a corner of the bedstead enveloped in its curtains.

Suddenly a voice resounded on the staircase. Chicot started; it was that of the monk.

Gorenflot, pushed along by the innkeeper, who was making vain efforts to keep him silent, was mounting the stairs, step by step, and singing in a tipsy voice :

44 Wine, Wine

And Sorrow combine To muddle and rattle this poor head of mine.

And then they 've a tussle,

And wrestle, and hustle To stay in the fort that the pair have assailed.

But which is the stronger

I cannot doubt longer, For Sorrow to keep her position has failed,

Which she 's forced to resign

To Wine, Wine! "

Chicot ran to the door.

" Silence, drunkard! " he shouted.

" Drunkard! " stammered Gorenflot, " well, yes, I have drunk !"

" Come here, I say ; and you, Bernouillet, know what you 're to do."

" Yes," said the innkeeper, making a sign of intelligence and descending the stairs four steps at a time.

" Come here, I say," continued Chicot, dragging the monk into the room, " and let us talk seriously, that is, if talk seriously you can."

" Parbleu ! you must be joking, comrade," said Gorenflot. " I am as serious as an ass is when he's drinking."

" Or when he 's drunk," retorted Chicot, with a shrug.

Then he led him to a chair, into which the monk dropped with an " ah !" expressive of the most intense relief.

Chicot shut the door and came back to Gorenflot with a face so grave that the latter understood he should have to listen.

" Well, now, what 'more have you against me ? " said the monk, with an emphasis on more that was eloquent as to all the persecutions Chicot had made him endure.

" There is this more," answered Chicot, roughly, " that you do not think sufficiently of the duties of your profession ; you wallow in drunkenness and gluttony and let religion take care of itself, corbceuff "

Gorenflot turned his big eyes on his censor in amazement.

« I ? " said he.

" Yes, you ; look at yourself, you 're a disgrace to be seen. Your robe is torn, and you must have fought on the way, for there 's a black ring round your left eye."

" I ? " repeated Gorenflot, more and more astonished at being lectured in a style to which, certainly, Chicot had not hitherto accustomed him.

" Of course, I mean you; you have mud above your knees, and what mud! white mud, which proves you got tipsy in the suburbs."

" Faith, I 'm afraid it's all true," said Gorenflot.

" Unhappy man ! a Genevievan monk ! why, even in a Franciscan it would be horrible ! "

" Chicot, my friend, I must, then, be very guilty ! " said Gorenflot, with deep feeling.

" So guilty that you deserve to be burnt in hell's fire down to your very sandals. Beware ! if this continue, I '11 have nothing more to do with you."

" Ah ! Chicot, my friend, you would never do that," said the monk.

" Would n't I, though? and, besides, there are archers in Lyons."

" Oh ! my beloved protector, spare me ! " stammered the monk, who not only wept, but roared in his agony like a bull.

" Faugh ! what a disgusting animal you are become, and that, too, at the very moment our neighbor is dying ! Was this the time, I ask you, to misbehave as you have done ? "

" True, true," answered Gorenflot, with an air of the deepest contrition.

" Come, let us see, are you a Christian ? — yes or no ! "

" Am I a Christian ? ?) cried Gorenflot, rising, " am I a Christian ? I am, and ready to proclaim my faith, though you stretch me on the gridiron of St. Lawrence ! "

And with arm uplifted as if in the act of swearing, he began to sing in a voice that shook the windows :

" I am a Christian man, Deny it no one can."

" Stop, stop,' 7 said Chicot, placing his hand over the monk's mouth. " Then, if you are, you ought not to let your brother die without confession."

" You are right; where is my brother ? I '11 confess him at once," said Gorenflot, " that is, when I have had a drink, for I am dying of thirst."

Chicot passed him a jug of water, which he nearly emptied.

"Ah! my son," said he, as he laid the jug on the table, " things are beginning to look clearer to me."

" That's very fortunate," answered Chicot, who determined to profit by this lucid interval.

" And now, my tender friend," continued the monk, " whom am I to confess ? "

" Our unhappy neighbor, who is dying."

" They ought to give him a pint of wine with honey in it," said Gorenflot.

" You may be right, but he has more need of spiritual than of temporal succor at present, and that you must procure for him."

" Do you think I am in a fit state myself to do so, M. Chicot ?'" inquired the monk, timidly.

" You ! I never saw you so full of unction in my life. You will lead him back to the right road if he has strayed from it, and if he is looking for it you will send him straight to Paradise."

"I 'm off, then, immediately,"

" Wait. I want to point out to you the course you 're to follow."

" Why so ? I ought to know my business after being twenty years a monk."

" Yes, but, to-day, you have not only to do your business but my will."

« Your will ? "

" And if you execute it practically — are you listening ? — I will deposit a hundred pistoles at the Corne d'Abondance, to be spent in eating or drinking, just as you choose."

" To be spent in eating and drinking ; I like that better."

" That 's your look-out — a hundred pistoles for confessing this worthy man who is dying, do you understand ? "

" I '11 confess him, plague take me if I don't! How am I to set about it ? "

" Listen : your robe gives you great authority ; you must speak in the name of God and of the King, and, by your eloquent exhortations compel this man to give up the papers that were lately brought to him from Avignon."

" And why am I to compel him to give me up these papers ? "

Chicot looked at the monk pityingly.

" To gain a thousand livres, you double-dyed idiot," said he.

" All right," returned Gorenflot, " I '11 go to him."

" Stop. He will tell you he has just made his confession."

" But, if he has confessed already "

'" You '11 tell him he lies, that the man who left him was not a confessor, but an intriguer like himself."

" But he '11 get angry."

" What need you care, since he 's dying ? "

" Eight again."

" Now you understand, don't you ? Speak of God, speak of the devil, speak of anything you like ; but, however you go about it, make sure you get the papers out of his clutches."

" And if he refuse to surrender them ? "

" Refuse him absolution, curse him, anathematize him."

" Or shall I take them by force ? "

" Oh, any way you like. But, let us see, have you sobered up enough to execute my instructions ? "

" You '11 see. They shall be executed to the letter."

And Gorenflot, as he passed his hand over his broad face, apparently wiped away all surface traces of his late intoxica-

tion: his eyes became calm, although, to those who examined them keenly, they had still a besotted look ; he articulated his words with more or less distinctness ; and his gestures were made with a certain degree of steadiness, interrupted by an occasional tremble.

After he had spoken, he marched to the door with great solemnity.

" A moment," said Chicot; " when he gives you the papers, secure them with one hand and rap on the wall with the other."

" And if he refuse them ? "

" All the same, rap."

" So in either case I am to rap ? "

« Yes."

" I understand."

And Gorenflot passed out of the room, while Chicot, whose emotion was now uncontrollable, glued his ear to the wall, anxious to catch the faintest sound.

Ten minutes later the groaning of the floor in his neighbor's room announced that Gorenflot had entered, and the Gascon was soon enabled to get a glimpse of him in the narrow circle embraced by his visual ray.

The lawyer rose up in his bed and looked with wonder at his strange visitor.

" Ah ! good-day, my dear brother," said Gorenflot, halting in the middle of the room, and balancing his broad shoulders.

" What brings you here, father ? " murmured the sick man, in a feeble voice.

" My son, I am an. unworthy monk; I have been told you are in danger, and I have come to speak to you of your soul."

" Thanks," said the invalid, " but I do not believe your care is needed. I feel a little better."

Gorenflot shook his head.

" You think so ? " said he.

" I am sure of it."

" One of the wiles of Satan, who would like to see you die without confession."

" Then Satan would be baffled," said the sick man. " I confessed only a short while ago."

" To whom ? "

" To a priest from Avignon."

Gorenflot shook his head.

" What do you mean ? that he was not a priest ? "

" That is my meaning."

" How do you know ? "

" I know who he was."

" The man who just left me ? "

" Yes/' answered Gorenflot, in a tone of such conviction that, hard as it is to upset a lawyer, this one was disturbed.

" Now, as you are not getting better," said Gorenflot, " and as this man was not a priest, you must confess."

" I am perfectly willing," said the lawyer, in a voice that had grown perceptibly stronger; " but I intend confessing to whomsoever I choose."

" You have no time to send for another priest, my son, and, as I am here " —

" What! I have no time ? " cried the invalid, in a voice that was louder and firmer even than before; " have I not told you that I am better ? Am I not telling you now that I am sure to recover ? "

Gorenflot shook his head for the third time.

"And I," said he, in the same phlegmatic manner, " I tell you, on the other hand, my son, that there is not the slightest hope for you. You are condemned by the doctors and also by Divine Providence ; you may think me cruel in saying so, — very likely you do, — but this is a thing to which we must all come sooner or later. Justice must weigh us in her scales, and surely it ought to be a consolation to us to sink in this life, since thereby we rise into the other life. Pythagoras himself said so, my brother, and yet he was but a pagan. Therefore you must confess, my dear child."