La Dame de Monsoreau (49 page)

" But I assure you, father, I have grown stronger, even since you entered, the effect, I presume, of your holy presence."

" A mistake, my son, a mistake," persisted Gorenflot; " there is at the last moment a vital resuscitation; the lamp flares up at the end, and then goes out forever. Come, now," continued the monk, sitting down at the bedside, " tell me of your intrigues, your plots, and all your machinations."

" My intrigues, my plots, and all my machinations !" repeated Nicolas David, shrinking back from this singular monk whom he did not know, and who seemed to know him so well.

" Yes," said Gorenflot, quietly arranging his large ears for their auricular duties and joining his two thumbs above his

interlaced fingers; " then, after you have told me everything, you will give me the papers, and perhaps God will allow me to absolve you."

" What papers ? " cried the invalid, in a voice as strong and in tones as vigorous as if he had been in the best of health.

" The papers this pretended priest brought you from Avignon."

" And who told you this pretended priest brought me papers ? " asked the lawyer, stretching a leg out from under the bedclothes and speaking so roughly that the monk was shaken out of a tendency to drowsiness that was beginning to affect him in his comfortable armchair.

Gorenflot thought the moment had come for a display of energy.

" He who told me knows what he told me/"' he returned ; " come, come, the papers, or no absolution ! "

" To the devil with your absolution, you scoundrel! " cried David, leaping out of bed and jumping at Gorenflot's throat.

" Why," cried the monk, " your fever is more violent than ever! and you won't confess ! are you "

The lawyer's thumb, adroitly and vigorously applied to the monk's throat, interrupted the last phrase, which ended in a whistle that was not unlike a rattle.

" I am going now to force you to confess, you shaveling of Beelzebub," cried David, " and as for my fever, you '11 soon see it won't hinder me from strangling you."

Brother Gorenflot was robust, but he was, unfortunately, in that state of reaction when drunkenness acts on the nervous system and paralyzes it, which ordinarily occurs at the time when, by a contrary reaction, the mental powers are beginning to recover their vigor.

All he could do, then, was, by using whatever strength was left him, to rise from his chair, seize David's shirt with both hands, and thrust him back violently.

It is but just to say that, paralyzed as Brother Gorenflot was, he thrust Nicolas David back so violently that the latter fell in the middle of the room.

But he rose furious, and, seizing a long sword that hung on the wall behind his clothes, the same long sword that had been noticed by Maitre Bernouillet, he drew it from the scabbard and presented the point at the neck of the monk, who, exhausted by his last effort, had fallen back on his chair.

" It is now your turn to confess/' said he, in a hollow voice, " or else you die ! "

Gorenflot, completely sobered by the disagreeable pressure of cold steel against his flesh, comprehended the gravity of the situation.

" Oh !" said he, " then you were not sick ; your pretended agony was all a farce, was it ? "

" You forget that it is not for you to question but to answer," retorted the lawyer.

" Answer what ? "

" Whatever I choose to ask you."

" Ask, then."

" Who are you ? "

" You can see for yourself," said the monk.

" That is not an answer," returned the lawyer, pressing the sword a little.

" Have a care, man! What the devil! If you kill me before I answer, you '11 know nothing at all."

" You are right; your name ? "

« Brother Gorenflot."

" You are a real monk, then ? "

" A real monk ? Of course I am."

" What brought you to Lyons ? "

" I am exiled."

" What brought you to this hotel ? "

"Chance."

" How long have you been here ? "

" Sixteen days."

" Why were you spying on me ? "

" I was not spying on you."

" How did you know I had received papers ? "

" Because I had been told so."

« Who told you ? "

" The man who sent me to you."

" Who sent you to me ? " \

" I cannot tell you."

" But you will tell me, nevertheless."

" Oh, oh ! stop!" cried the monk. "Vertudieu! I'll cry out, I '11 shout."

« And I '11 kill you."

The monk uttered a cry ; a drop of blood appeared on the point of the lawyer's sword.

" His name ? " said the latter.

" Ah ! well, well, so much the worse," said the monk, " I have held out as long as I could.' 7

" Yes, yes, you have safeguarded your honor. The man who sent you to me, then " —

" It was "

Gorenflot still hesitated ; it cost him a good deal to betray his friend.

" Make an end of it, I saj'," cried the lawyer, with a stamp on the floor.

" Faith, so much the worse ! It was Chicot."

" The King's jester ? "

" The same."

" And where is he ? "

" Here ! " cried a voice.

And Chicot stood on the threshold, pale, stern, with a naked sword in his hand.

CHAPTEK XXXII.

HOW CHICOT, AFTER MAKING A HOLE WITH A GIMLET, MAKES ONE WITH HIS SWORD.

As soon as Maitre Nicolas David recognized the man he knew for his mortal enemy, he could not repress a movement of terror.

Gorenflot took advantage of this movement to slip to one side and so break the rectilinearity of the line between his neck and the hilt of the lawyer's sword.

" Help, dear friend ! " he cried ; " murder! help ! Save me !"

" Aha ! indeed ! So, then, my dear M. David," said Chicot, " it is really you ? "

" Yes," stammered David ; " yes, it is I, undoubtedly."

" Enchanted to have the pleasure of meeting you," returned the Gascon.

Then, turning to the monk:

" My good Gorenflot," said he, " your presence as a monk was necessary a while ago, when we believed that the gentleman was dying; but now that the gentleman is evidently in the enjoyment of marvellous good health, he no longer needs a

confessor, but rather to transact a little business with another gentleman ; this time, a gentleman by birth."

David tried to sneer contemptuously.

"Yes, a gentleman, in the proper sense of the term," said Chicot, " and one who will prove to you that he comes of good stock. My dear Gorenflot," said he, addressing the monk, " do me the favor to go and stand as sentinel on the landing, and see to it that no one, whoever he may be, interrupt the little conversation I am about to have with this gentleman."

Gorenflot asked no better than to get as far away as possible from Nicolas David. As soon as he had made the circuit it was necessary to describe for this purpose, clinging to the walls as closely as he could, he rushed out of the chamber, a hundred pounds lighter than when he entered it.

Chicot, as calm as ever, closed the door behind him and then bolted it.

At first David had viewed these proceedings with an agitation that naturally resulted from the unexpected nature of the situation ; but he soon recovered his self-control; he had confidence in his skill as a swordsman, and he had only a single opponent to deal with. When the Gascon turned round after shutting the door, he saw the lawyer waiting for him at the foot of the bed, his sword in his hand and a smile on his lips.

" Dress yourself, monsieur," said Chicot. " I will give you time to do so, for I do not wish to take any advantage of you. I know you are a valiant fencer and handle the sword as well as Le Clerc himself; but that is all the same to me.*'

Nicolas David gave a short laugh.

" Your jest is good," said he.

" Yes," answered Chicot ; " so it appears to me, at least, — I suppose because I made it, — but it will appear to you even better in a moment, for you are a man of taste. Do you know what I have come into this room for, Maitre Nicolas ? "

" The balance of the blows I owed you in the Due de Mayenne's name, ever since the day you jumped so nimbly out of the window."

" No, monsieur ; I remember the number and will, you may rest assured, return them to the man who ordered them to be given me. What I have come for is a certain genealogy carried to Avignon by M. Pierre de Gondy, who knew not what he was carrying, brought back again by M. Pierre de

Gondy, who knew not what he was bringing back, and placed by him in your hands a short while ago."

David turned pale.

" What genealogy ? " said he.

" The genealogy of the Guises, who, as you know, are descended from Charlemagne in the direct line."

" Ah ! ah !" said David, " you are a spy, monsieur ; I used to think you were only a buffoon."

"My dear monsieur, I will be both, if you like, on the present occasion : a spy to hang you, and a buffoon to make merry over the hanging."

" To hang me ! "

" High and dry, monsieur. You do not claim, I hope, that you have a right to be beheaded ; that right appertains only to gentlemen."

" And how will you go about it ? "

" Oh, the thing is very simple : I will relate the truth, that ? s all that is necessary. I may as well tell you, my dear M. David, that I was present, last month, at the little conventicle held in the convent of Sainte Genevieve between their Most Serene Highnesses the Guises and Madame de Montpensier."

" You ? "

" Yes, I was in the confessional facing yours; very uncomfortable, are they not ? the more so in. my case, at least, because I could not leave till all was over, and the affair was of unconscionable length. I was, therefore, present at the speeches of M. de Monsoreau, La Huriere, and a certain monk whose name I have forgotten, but whom I thought very eloquent. I know all about the coronation of M. d'Anjou, which was not particularly amusing ; but, on the other hand, the afterpiece was very laughable. They played: l The Genealogy of Messieurs de Lorraine, revised, augmented, and corrected by Maitre Nicolas David. 7 It was a very droll farce, lacking only the sign manual of his Holiness."

" Ah ! you know about the genealogy ? " said David, almost beside himself and biting his lips in his rage.

" Yes," said Chicot, " and I found it wonderfully ingenious, especially the part about the Salic law. Only so much cleverness is rather a misfortune, after all; the possessor of it often gets hanged. Consequently, inspired with tender pity for a man so gifted — < What! ' said I to myself, ' shall I let them hang this worthy M. David, the most agreeable of fencing-

masters, the most astute of lawyers, and my very good friend besides, and that, too, when I can not only save him from the rope, but also make the fortune of this admirable advocate, this excellent fencing-master, this kind-hearted friend, the first who, by taking the measure of my back, showed me how to take the measure of my heart; no, such shall not be the case.' Whereupon, having heard that you intended to travel, I determined to travel with, or rather behind, you. You came out by the Porte Bordelle, did you not ? I was watching you. You did not see me, and that is not surprising, for I was well concealed. From that moment I have followed you, losing you, catching up with you, taking a great deal of trouble, I assure you. At last we reached Lyons — I say we, because, an hour after you, I entered the same hotel, and not only entered the same hotel, but hired the room next to yours, Look, it is separated from yours only by a mere partition; you can well imagine I did not come all the way from Paris to Lyons to lose sight of you here. No, I made a little hole through which I had the privilege of observing you whenever I liked, and I confess I gave myself this pleasure several times a day. At last, you fell sick; the innkeeper wanted to turn you out of doors. But you had made an appointment with M. de Gondy at the Cygne de la Croix ; you were afraid he might not find you elsewhere, or, at least, not find you soon enough. The stratagem you adopted only half deceived me ; however, as, after all, you might be really ill, for we are all mortal, a truth of which I will try to. convince you later on, I sent you a worthy monk, my friend and comrade, to endeavor to excite you to repentance, to arouse in you a feeling of remorse. But in vain; hardened sinner that you are, you wanted to pierce his neck with your rapier, forgetting this maxim of the Gospel: ' All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.' Therefore, my dear M. David, I come to you arid say : ' We are old acquaintances, -old friends ; let us arrange the matter. \ Are you willing to do so ? "

" In what manner ? "

"In the manner in which it would have been arranged if you had been really ill, and if, after my friend Gorenflot had confessed you, you had handed him the papers he asked for. Then I would have pardoned you and even said a sincere in manus for your soul's salvation. Well, I will not be more exacting in the case of the living than I would be in the case of

the dead, and what I have to say to you is this : ( M. David, you are an accomplished man. Fencing, horsemanship, chicanery, the art of putting fat purses into big pockets — you are skilful in them all. It would be sad if such a man as you suddenly disappeared from that world in which he was destined to have such brilliant fortune. Well, then, dear M. David, engage in no more conspiracies, trust to me, break with the Guises, give me your papers, and I pledge you my word as a gentleman that I will make your peace with the King.' r

"While, on the contrary,if I do not give them"—inquired Nicolas David.