La Dame de Monsoreau (60 page)

" I do not think so, but you will undoubtedly be if you remain longer here."

" Hurrah for the Mass ! hurrah for the Mass ! " cried a stream of people who came from the market-places, surged along like a tide, and was swallowed up in the Rue de PArbre-See.

" Long live M. de Guise ! long live the cardinal ! long live M. de Mayenne ! " answered the crowd before the door of La Huriere, which had just recognized the two Lorraine princes.

" What mean those cries," said Henri, frowning.

" They mean that every one has his own place and should stay there : M. de Guise in the streets and you in the Louvre. Go to the Louvre, sire, go to the Louvre."

" You come with us ? "

"I? Oh, no! you don't need me, my son; you have your ordinary bodyguards. Quelus, start at once, and you, Maugiron, do the same. As for me, I want to see the spectacle to the finish ; it's queer, if not amusing."

" Where are you going ? "

" To put my name on the other registers. I want to have a thousand of my autographs running the streets of Paris tomorrow morning. We are now on the quay ; good night, my son ; you turn to the right, I to the left ; each his own road. I am hurrying to Saint Mery to hear a famous preacher."

" Oh ! stop, I say ! " said the King, suddenly ; " what is this new uproar, and why are people running in the direction of the Pont-Neuf ? "

Ohicot stood on tiptoe, but all he could pee at first was a mass of people crying, howling, and pushing, apparently carrying some one or something in triumph.

At length, at the point where the quay, widening in front of the Rue des Lavandieres, allows a crowd to spread to the right and left, the waves of the popular ocean opened, and, like the monster borne by the flood to the very feet of Hip-polytus, a man, seemingly the principal actor in this burlesque scene, was driven by these human waves to the feet of the King.

This man was a monk mounted on an ass. The monk was speaking and gesticulating.

The ass was braying.

" Venire de biche ! " said Chicot, as soon as he could distinguish the man and animal now entering on the stage, the one on top of the other ; " I was speaking of a famous preacher who was to hold forth at Saint Mery ; it is n't necessary to go so far ; listen to this one."

" A preacher on a donkey ? " said Quelus.

" Why not, my son ? "

" Why, it 's Silenus himself," said Maugiron.

" Which is the preacher ? " asked Henri ; " they are both speaking together."

" The one underneath is the most eloquent," answered Chicot, " but the one on the top speaks the best French ; listen, Henri, listen,"

" Silence ! " cried every one, " silence ! "'

" Silence ! " cried Chicot, in a voice that rose high above all other voices.

After this, not a sound was heard. A circle was made round the monk and the ass. The monk dashed at once into his exordium.

" Brethren," said he, " Paris is a superb city ; Paris is the

pride of the Kingdom of France and the Parisians are a remarkably clever people; the song says so."

And the monk began to sing at the top of his voice :

"'You've come from Paris, fair friend; — So you know all that ever was penned!''

But the ass blended his accompaniment so loudly and energetically with the words, or rather, with the air, that he stopped the mouth of his rider.

The people buHtet into a roar of laughter.

" Keep still, Panurge, keep still, I say," cried the monk; k "you shall speak in your turn; but let me speak first.' 7

The ass was quiet.

" My brethren," continued the preacher, " the earth is a valley of tears, a place where, most of the time, a man can quench his thirst only with his tears."

u Why, he's dead drunk ! " said the King.

" Not unlikely," answered Chicot.

" I, who speak to you," continued the monk, " am returning from exile like the Hebrews, and, for a whole week, Panurge and myself have been living on alms and privations."

" Who is Panurge ? " inquired the King.

" Probably the superior of his convent," answered Chicot. " But let me listen; the artless creature is really affecting."

" Who made me endure all this, my friends ? It was Herod. You know what Herod I mean."

" And you, too, my son," said Chicot; " I explained the .anagram to you."

" You rascal! "

" To whom are you speaking ? — to me or the ass or the monk ? "

« To all three."

" My brethren," the monk went on, " behold my ass whom I love as much as if it were a sheep! he will tell you that we have come from Villeneuve-le-Eoi in three days in order to take part in to-night's great solemnity. And how have we come ? -

"'With empty purse, »

And gullet dry.'

But no affliction could keep me and Panurge away."

" But who the devil is Panurge ? " asked Henri, who could not keep this Pantagruelic name out of his head.

" We have come, then," continued the monk, " and also we have arrived, to see what is passing; but we see and do not understand. What is passing, my brethren ? Is Herod to be deposed to-day ? Is Brother Henri to be put into a convent to-day ? "

" I tell you," said Quelus, " I have a strong desire to let out the contents of this swill-barrel. What do you say, Mau-giron ? "

" Bah ! " said Chicot, " it takes so little to stir you up, Quelus: Don't they put the King in a convent every day of his life ? Believe me, Henri, if that is all they do to you, you have n't much reason to complain. Is that not the case, Panurge ? "

The ass, hearing his name called,, pricked up his ears and began braying in a fashion that was absolutely terrific.

" Oh, Panurge ! Panurge ! " said the monk, " you should control your passions. Gentlemen," he went on, " I left Paris with two travelling companions : Panurge, who is my ass, and M. Chicot, who is his Majesty's jester. Gentlemen, can any of you tell me what has become of my friend Chicot ? "

Chicot made a grimace.

" Ha ! " said the King, " so he 's your friend ? "

Quelus and Maugiron burst out laughing.

" A handsome creature, your friend," continued the King, " and respectable withal. What is his name ? "

" Gorenflot, Henri; you know something of this dear Goren-flot of mine. M. de Morvilliers spoke a few words to you about him."

" The incendiary of Sainte Gene vie ve ? "

" The same."

" In that case I '11 have him hanged."

" Impossible ! "

« Why ? "

" He 's got no neck."

" My brethren," continued Gorenflot, " in me you behold a true martyr. My brethren, it is my cause that is being defended at this moment, or rather, the cause of all good Catholics. You do not know what is going on in the provinces and what the Huguenots are hatching. At Lyons we were obliged to kill one of them, who was preaching rebellion. As long as a single one of the brood remain in a single corner of France, there will be no tranquillity for us. Therefore, let

us exterminate the Huguenots. To arms, my brethren, to arms ! "

A number of voices repeated :

« To arms ! "

" Par la mordieu ! " cried Henri, " try to silence this drunkard, or we '11 have a second Saint Bartholomew."

" Wait, wait," said Chicot.

And, taking a cane from Quelus, he passed behind the monk and struck him with all his force on the shoulder.

" Murder ! murder ! " cried the monk.

" What! it 's you ! " said Chicot, passing his head under the monk's arm, " how goes it, you rogue ? "

" Help ! help ! M. Chicot," cried Gorenflot, " the enemies of the faith want to assassinate me. But I will not die without making my voice heard. To the fire with the Huguenots ! to the stake with the Bearnais ! "

" Will you be silent, you beast ? "

" And to the devil with the Gascons ! " continued the monk.

But at this moment, a second blow, not from a cane, but from a stout cudgel, fell on Gorenflot's shoulder, who screamed now from real pain.

Chicot looked round him in amazement; but he saw only the stick. The blow had been given by a man who immediately disappeared in the crowd, after administering this flying correction to Brother Gorenflot.

" Heaven and earth ! " cried Chicot, " who the devil is it that has avenged us Gascons in this summary fashion ? I wonder if he be a child of the country. I must try and find out."

And he ran after the man with the stick, who was rapidly slipping along the quay, escorted by a single companion.

CHAPTER XLI.

THE RUE DE LA FERRONNERIE.

CHICOT had good legs. He would have made the most of them on the present occasion, and have managed to come up with the man who had beaten Gorenflot, if something singular in his appearance, and especially in his companion's, had not suggested that there might be danger in any sudden attempt to find out who they were ; for, apparently, they wished to avoid being recognized. Indeed, the two fugitives were plainly trying to get lost in the crowd, turning round only at the street corners to make sure they were not followed.

Chicot thought that, in his case, the best way not to seem to be following them was to precede them. The two men made their way to the Rue Saint-Honore by the Rue de la Monnaie and the Rue Tirechappe ; at the corner of the latter he got ahead of them and continued to run until he found a hiding-place at the end of the Rue des Bourdonnais.

The two men went up the Rue Saint-Honore. Keeping close to the houses along the corn-market, their hats slouched over their eyes, and their cloaks drawn up over their faces, they inarched on, with a quick step in which there was something military, in the direction of the Rue de la Ferronnerie. Chicot continued to have the start of them.

At the corner of the Rue de la Ferronnerie they stopped afresh for a final look around.

During all this time Chicot was still in the lead, and had now reached the middle of the street.

There, in front of a house so old that it seemed falling to pieces, was stationed a litter, drawn by two clumsy-looking horses. A single glance told the Gascon that the driver had fallen asleep on his seat and that a young woman, apparently

anxious, was peering through the blind ; the thought flashed through his mind that the litter was waiting for the two men. He stole up behind it, and, protected by his own shadow, as well as by that of the house, he managed to creep under a wide stone bench, used by the green-grocers for the display of their wares twice a week, at which times they had a market in the Rue de la Ferronnerie.

He had just concealed himself when the two men appeared in front of the horses, where they halted, evidently in an uneasy frame of mind.

One of them tried to wake up the coachman, and, as the latter slept like a log, he let fly a cap de diou ! at him, in an accent there was no mistaking, while the other, still more impatient, pricked him in the rear with his poniard.

" Oho !" said Chicot, " I was not mistaken, then ; they are fellow-countrymen of mine; I am no longer surprised at the dressing Gorenflot received for speaking ill of the Gascons.' 7

The young woman, as soon as she recognized the men she was waiting for, leaned her head quickly out of the window of the heavy machine. When Chicot had a clearer view of her, he saw she must be between twenty and twenty-two; she was very beautiful and very pale, and, if it had been daylight, the dampness of her golden hair, the dark circles round her eyes, the deadly whiteness of her hands, and her air of general languor, would have told the observer that she was in the grasp of a malady of which her frequent swoons and the enlargement of her figure would have very quickly revealed the secret.

But all Chicot perceived was that she was young, fair, and pale.

The two men approached the litter, and so were naturally placed between it and the bench under which the Gascon was crouching.

The taller of them took in both his hands the white hand which the lady stretched out toward him from the litter, resting his foot on one of the steps and his arms on the portiere.

" Well, darling," said he, " how is my little heart, my own little pet, to-day ? "

The lady answered by shaking her head, with a sad smile, and showing her flask of salts.

" Still those fainting-fits, venire saint-gris ! How angry I should be with you for being so ill, my love, if I were not the cause myself of your sweet malady ! "

" Then why the devil did you bring madame to Paris ? " said the other man, rather rudely. " It has been the curse of your whole life that you must have a petticoat tagged on to your doublet wherever you go. 7 '

" Ah ! my dear Agrippa," answered the man who had spoken first and who was apparently the husband or the lover of the lady, " it is so great a grief to part from one you love."

And the lady and he exchanged looks full of amorous languor.

" Cordioux ! but you do drive me crtzy with your talk ! you do, upon my soul! " answered his sour comrade. " Did you come to Paris to make love, my fine wooer ? I should think Beam was wide enough for your sentimental promenades, t without continuing them in this Babylon, where you have been near getting both our throats cut a score of times to-night. Go back home, if you must spend your time sparking at the curtains of litters ; but here, mordioux ! the only intrigues you must deal in are political intrigues, my master."

At the word " master " Chicot would have liked to raise his head; but he could scarcely risk such a movement without being seen.

" Let him growl away, darling, and don't you bother about what he says. I believe he would fall as sick as you are and would have the vapors and swoons you have, too, if he were;/ stopped from growling."