La Dame de Monsoreau (50 page)

" Ah ! if you do not give them, it is another thing. In that case, I pledge you my honor I will kill you ! Does that still seem amusing to you, dear M. David ? "

" More so than ever," answered the lawyer, toying with his sword.

" But if you give them to me," continued Chicot, " all shall be forgotten. You may not, perhaps, believe me, dear M. David, for you have an evil nature, and you fancy that my heart is coated with resentment as iron is coated with rust. No; it is true I hate you, but I hate M. de Mayenne more. Give me the means of ruining him and I will save you. And then, will you allow me to utter a few words more which you will not believe, for you love nothing but yourself ? I love the King, love him, though I know that he is silly, corrupt, degenerate ; yes, I love the King who protected and sheltered me from your butcher Mayenne that assassinated a single gentleman at the Place du Louvre at the head of fifteen bandits. You know of whom I speak, of poor Saint-Megrin; were you not one of his murderers ? No ? So much the better, I believed you were, and I am sure of it now. Well, I want him to reign in peace, this poor King Henri of mine, a thing utterly impossible with your Mayennes and your Nicolas David genealogies. Deliver that genealogy to me, then, and I pledge you my honor I '11 conceal your name and make your fortune."

During this lengthened exposition of his ideas, and its length was not without a purpose, Chicot was observing David with his keen and intelligent eyes, and not once did he see the lawyer's features soften, not once did he see the feeling that springs from a kindly thought sweep over that gloomy countenance, or a heartfelt emotion relax the convulsive clutch of that nervous hand on the sword-hilt.

" Well," said Chicot, " I see that all my eloquence is Iceland you do not believe me. But I have a way to punish you, first, for the injury you did me of old, and then, to rid the earth of a man who believes neither in honesty nor justice. I am going to have you hanged. Adieu, M. David."

And he stepped back toward the door, all the time keeping his eye on the lawyer.

David bounded forward.

" And you think I shall let you depart ? " cried the lawyer. " No, no, my fine spy ; no, no, Chicot, my friend ; when a man knows a secret like that of the genealogy, he dies ! When a man threatens Nicolas David, he dies ! When a man enters here as you have entered, he dies !"

" You make me quite easy in my mind," answered Chicot, with his usual calmness. " I hesitated only because I am sure to kill you. Crillon taught me, two months ago, while I was practising with him, a peculiar kind of lunge, only a single thrust, but all that is needed, I pledge you my word. Come, hand me the papers," he cried in a terrible voice, " or I kill you ! And I will tell you how : I will pierce your throat just in the very spot where you wanted to bleed my friend Gorenflot."

Almost before Chicot had finished these words, David rushed upon him, with a savage outburst of laughter ; Chicot awaited him, sword in hand.

The two adversaries were pretty evenly matched in size; but Chicot's clothes concealed his spareness, while nothing hid the lank, slender, flexible figure of the lawyer. He was not unlike some long serpent, his nimble sword moving with lightning rapidity in this direction and that, as if it were the serpent's triple fang. But he found a dangerous antagonist in Chicot, as the latter had told him. In fact, the Gascon, who fenced almost every day with the King, had become one of the most skilful swordsmen in the kingdom. Nicolas David soon began to perceive this, for, no matter how he attacked his enemy, the latter always foiled him.

He retreated a step.

" Ah ! " said Chicot, " now you are beginning to understand, are you ? Once more ; give me the papers."

David's only answer was to throw himself again upon the Gascon, and a new combat ensued, longer and fiercer than thp first, although Chicot contented himself with parrying, and had not yet struck a blow.

S30 LA DAMti DE MONSOREAU.

This second contest ended, like the first, in a backward step by the lawyer.

" Ah, ah ! " said Chicot; " my turn now."

And he took a step forward.

While he was advancing, Nicolas David made ready to stop him. Chicot parried in prime, beat down his adversary's guard, reached the spot where he had declared his intention of striking David, and plunged his sword half its length through his enemy's throat.

" That is the stroke," said he.

David did not answer, but fell at Chicot's feet, pouring out a mouthful of blood.

And now it was Chicot's turn to retreat a step. Wounded though it be, the serpent can still rear its head, and sting.

But David, by a natural impulse, tried to drag himself toward his bed so as to defend his secret to the last.

" Ah ! " said Chicot, " I thought you as cunning as a fox ; but, on the contrary, you are as stupid as a reiter. I did not know where the papers were, and now you tell me."

And while David struggled in the agonies of death, Chicot ran to the bed, raised the mattress, and under it found a little roll of parchment, which the lawyer, in his ignorance of the catastrophe that menaced him, had not dreamed of concealing more securely.

At the very moment he unrolled it to make sure it was the document he was in search of, rage gave David strength to rise; then he fell back and expired.

Chicot ran over the parchment brought by Pierre de Gondy, his eyes sparkling with joy and pride.

The legate of the Pope, faithful to the policy of the sovereign pontiff since his accession to the throne, had written at the bottom :

"Fiat ut Deus voluit: Deus jura hominum fecit."

" Hum !" muttered Chicot, " this Pope is rather hard on our most Christian King."

And folding the parchment carefully, he introduced it into the safest pocket in his doublet, namely, the one next his breast.

Then he lifted the body of the lawyer, who had died without losing more blood, the nature of the wound making him bleed inwardly, put it back again in the bed, turned the face to the wall, and, opening the door, called Gorenflot.

CHICOT RAN OVER THE PARCHMENT BROUGHT BY PIERRE DE GONDY, HIS EYES SPARKLING WITH JOY AND PRIDE.

Gorenflot entered.

" How pale you are ! " said the monk.

" Yes," said Chicot, " the last moments of this poor man have caused me some emotion."

" Is he dead ? " asked Gorenflot.

" There is every reason to think so," answered Chicot.

" But he was so well a while ago."

" Too well. He insisted on swallowing something hard to digest, and, as in the case of Anacreon, the morsel went the wrong way."

" Oho !" said Gorenflot, " and the rascal wanted to strangle me — me, an ecclesiastic! No wonder he has been unfortunate ! "

" Pardon him, comrade, you are a Christian."

" I do pardon him," answered Gorenflot, " although he gave me an awful fright."

" That is not enough," said Chicot; " you must light some tapers and say a few prayers beside his body."

" Why ? "

This " why" was, it will have been noticed, Gorenflot's customary interrogative.

" What do you mean by your ( why ? ? Well, then, there is danger that you may be dragged to prison as his murderer."

" I this man's murderer ! Oh, nonsense ! It was he who wanted to strangle me."

" Of course, I know that, and as he could not succeed, his fiiry set his blood violently in motion ; a vessel burst inside his breast, and so he has crossed the ferry. You see, then, that, taking it all in all, you are the cause of his death, Gorenflot. The innocent cause, 't is true. But, nevertheless, you might have a good deal to suffer before your innocence was proved."

" I think, M. Chicot, you are right," said the monk.

" The more so as the official in the city who deals with such matters happens to be a rather tough customer."

" Jesus ! " murmured the monk.

" Do what I tell you, then, comrade."

« What am I to do ? "

" Stay here in this room, recite piously all the prayers you know, and even all the prayers you don't know, and when evening comes and you are alone, leave this hostelry, neither at a snail's pace nor yet in a hurry. You are acquainted with the farrier who lives at the corner of the street ? "

" Certainly ; it was he who gave ine this last night," said Gorenflot, pointing to his black eye.

" Touching remembrance ! Well,. I '11 see to it that you find your horse there. Now, pay particular attention : you will mount your horse and take the road to Paris ; at Ville-neuve le Roi you will sell him and take back Panurge."

" Ah ! my good Panurge ! You are right, I shall be delighted to see him again; I love him. But," added the monk, piteously, " how am I to live on the way ? "

" When I give, I give," answered Chicot, " and I do not let my friends go a-begging, as yours ck) at the convent of St. Genevieve; hold."

And Chicot drew from his pocket a fistful of crowns, which he poured into the monk's big hand.

" Generous man!" exclaimed Gorenflot, moved even to tears, " let me remain with you in Lyons. I am fond of Lyons; it is the second capital of the realm, and a most hos-.pitable capital it is."

" Now, try and understand one thing, at least, you dunderhead ! The thing you must understand is that I do not remain here, that I am about to start for Paris, and shall ride so fast you never could keep up with me."

" Thy will be done, M. Chicot! " said the monk, resignedly.

" Now you are as you ought to be ! " said Chicot; " I love you best when you are in the mood you are at present."

And, after installing the monk at the side of the bed, he went downstairs to see his host.

" Maitre Bernouillet," he said, taking him aside, " a great event has occurred in your house, although you have not the slightest suspicion of it."

" Goodness !" exclaimed the innkeeper, looking scared, " what has happened ? "

" That malignant royalist, that despiser of religion, that abominable frequenter of Huguenots "

« Well ? "

" Received the visit of a messenger from Rome this morning."

"I know all that; it was I who informed you of the fact."

" Well, then, our Holy Father the Pope, who is the temporal justiciary of this world, sent this man directly to this conspirator — but the conspirator probably never suspected for what purpose."

" And for what purpose did he send him ? "

" Go up to the chamber of your guest, M. Bernouillet, turn up the end of the bedclothes, look in the neighborhood of the neck, and you will know."

" Mercy on us ! you frighten me."

" I say no more. The sentence has been executed in your house. The Pope has done you a signal honor, Maitre Bernouillet."

Thereupon Chicot slipped ten gold crowns into his host's hands and went to the stables, from which he led out the two horses.

Meanwhile the innkeeper flew upstairs more lightly than a bird, and entered the chamber of Maitre Nicolas David.

He found Gorenflot praying.

He drew near the bed, and, as he had been instructed to do, raised the bedclothes.

The wound, still red, was in the place mentioned ; but the body was already cold.

" May all the enemies of our holy religion die thus ! " said Bernouillet, making a significant gesture to Gorenflot.

" Amen ! " answered the monk.

These events took place almost at the same time that Bussy restored Diane de Meridor to the arms of her father, who had believed her dead.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

HOW THE DUG D J ANJOU DISCOVERED THAT DIANE WAS NOT DEAD.

DURING this time the last days of April had arrived.

The great cathedral of Chartres was hung with white, and the pillars were garlanded with foliage which took the place of the absent flowers.

The King was standing in the middle of the nave, barefooted, as indeed, was the case ever since he had entered the city through the Porte de Chartres. He looked round occasionally to see if all his friends and courtiers had faithfully kept their appointment. But some of them whose feet had been flayed by the rough streets had put on their shoes again ; others, being either hungry or tired, were eating or sleeping in some of the hostelries on the route, into which they had stolen on the sly;

and only a small number had the courage to stay in the church on the damp floor, with bare legs under their penitent robes.

The religious ceremony, which was for the purpose of praying for an heir to the throne of France, was drawing to an end. The two chemises of Our Lady, which, on account of the numerous miracles they had wrought, had a high reputation for their prolific virtue, had been taken from their shrines of gold, and the people, who had come in crowds to witness this solemnity, bowed their heads beneath the burning rays that flashed from the tabernacle when the two tunics were drawn from it.