La Dame de Monsoreau (69 page)

The frightened musician obeyed, and went and sat on a cushion at the feet of his master.

" We have caught one of them in the rat-trap already," said Quelus ; " now for the others."

And with these words, which gave Aurilly some idea of how matters really stood, Quelus returned to his post in the antechamber, after asking Schomberg to exchange his pea-shooter for his cup and ball.

" It is perfectly proper," said Chicot, " to vary our amuse-

ments; and so, to diversify mine a little, I will go and sign the League."

And he closed the door, leaving the poor lute-player to bring what comfort he might to his royal highness by his presence.

CHAPTER XLVIIL

HOW THE KING NAMED A CHIEF FOR THE LEAGUE WHO WAS NEITHER GUISE NOR ANJOU.

THE hour of the great reception had arrived, or rather, was close at hand, for, ever since noon, the principal chiefs of the League, those who sympathized with them, and many who were simply actuated by curiosity, were making their way to the Louvre.

Paris, as turbulently inclined as on the previous night, but somewhat restrained by the presence everywhere of the Swiss, who had not taken part in the festival of the evening before, had sent to the royal residence its deputations of Leaguers, of workingmen's guilds, its municipal councillors, its citizen soldiers, and its constantly increasing masses of spectators, those spectators who, on days when the real people is devoting all its energies to the achievement of some object, suddenly spring into existence apparently for no other purpose than to surround that people and watch its action. They are so numerous, active, and eager that there would seem to be two peoples in Paris, every person, as it were, separating himself into two individualities, one of whom was engaged in acting, the other in looking on while the first acted. .

Crowds of the populace surged around the Louvre ; but no one trembled at the thought that its tenants were in any peril.

The day had not yet arrived when the murmurs of a people were to change to a thunder roar, when the fiery breath of its cannon was to overturn the walls of castles and bring them tumbling down on the heads of their masters ; the Swiss of that day, ancestors though they were of the Swiss of the tenth of August and of the twenty-seventh of July, smiled on the armed masses of the Parisians, and the Parisians smiled back on the Swiss. The time had not yet come for the people to stain with blood the vestibules of kings.

It must not be imagined, however, that the drama lacked interest because it was devoid of the gruesome features to which we have alluded; on the contrary, the scenes of which the Louvre was on that day the theatre were among the most curious we have ever described.

The King, in the grand hall, or throne-room, was surrounded by his officers, friends, servants, and family, waiting until all the corporations should defile before him, and then, leaving their leaders behind them in the palace, should march to the positions assigned them under the windows and in the courtyards of the Louvre.

He was thus enabled, with a single glance, to embrace the entire mass of his enemies and almost to count them, especially as he was aided by hints from Chicot, who was concealed behind the royal seat, or by a warning flash in the eyes of the queen mother; sometimes the murmurs of the lowest classes of the Leaguers — more impatient than their leaders because ignorant of the secrets of their policy — told him what he had to expect. Suddenly M. v de Monsoreau entered.

" I say, Harry," said Chicot, " are you looking ? "

" What do you want me to look at ? "

" Your grand huntsman, egad ! he's well worth the trouble of being looked at. Don't you notice how pale and dirty he is ? Is n't that enough to keep your eyes open ? "

" Yes/' said the King, " I see it is the grand huntsman."

Henri made a sign to M. de Monsoreau, who approached.

" How is it you happen to be in the Louvre, monsieur ? " asked the King. " I understood you were at Yincennes, engaged in rousing a stag for our benefit."

" Sire, the stag was roused at seven in the morning; but when it struck twelve and I had no news, I began to fear some misfortune had befallen your Majesty, and I hurried back."

" Really ? " asked the King.

" Sire," said the count, " if I have failed in my duty, I beg you to attribute my fault to an excess of devotion."

" I do so, monsieur," answered Henri. " You may rest assured I appreciate it."

" Now," continued the count, hesitatingly, "if your Majesty requires me to return to Yincennes, as I am no longer under any apprehension"

" No, no ; remain, M. le Grand Yeneur. That hunting-party was only a sudden fancy that entered our brain ; it vanished

as rapidly as it came. Remain, and do not stay far from me; I feel the necessity of having devoted friends within call, and you have just ranked yourself among those upon whose devotion I can rely."

Monsoreau bowed.

" Where does your Majesty wish me to stay ? " asked the count.

" Will your Majesty give him to me for half an hour ? " whispered Chicot in the King's ear.

" For what purpose ? "

" To torment him a little. You owe me some compensation after forcing me to be present at such a stupid ceremony as this one you promise us is sure to be.' 7

" All right, take him."

" I have had the honor of asking your Majesty where it is your wish I should take my stand ? " inquired the count a second time.

" I thought I had answered : Wherever you like. Behind my chair, if you have no objection. It is where I station my friends."

" Come here, my worthy grand huntsman," said Chicot, making room for him, " scent me out some of those rascals yonder. That's a sort of game you can track without help of bloodhound. Venire de biche, M. le Comte, what a stench! It comes from the shoemakers who are passing, or rather have passed; and next we have the tanners. Mort de ma vie ! I tell you, grand huntsman mine, if you lose the scent of these fellows, I '11 take your office from you !"

M. de Monsoreau made a pretence of listening, or rather he listened without hearing.

His mind was preoccupied by some weighty affair and he looked around him with an air of absent-mindedness which did not escape the notice of the King, especially as Chicot took good care to call his attention to it.

" Ah," said the Gascon, in an undertone to the King, " do you know what your grand huntsman is hunting at the present moment ? "

" No ; whab is he hunting ? "

" He is hunting your brother of Anjou."

"The game is not in sight, at all events," answered Henri, laughing.

" No. Do you believe he knows where it is ? "

" I confess I should not be sorry if he were on the wrong scent."

" Stay a moment," said Chicot, " and I '11 have him following the wrong scent in no time. We are told the wolf smells like the fox ; it is easy enough to send him on a fool's errand. You just ask him where is his countess ? "

" Why should I do so ? "

" Ask and you '11 see."

" M. le Comte," said the King, " pray what have you done with Madame de Monsoreau ? I do not see her among the ladies of the court."

The count started as if a serpent had stung him in the foot.

Chicot scratched the end of his nose, at the same time winking at the King.

" Sire," answered the grand huntsman, " Madame la Com-tesse has been ill; the air of Paris did not agree with her. She therefore left the city last night, after receiving the Queen's permission, in company with her father, the Baron de Meridor."

" And to what part of France is she travelling ? " inquired the King, delighted to have an excuse for turning away his head while the tanners were passing.

" To Anjou, her native country, sire."

" The fact is," said Chicot gravely, " that the air of Paris is not good for women in her condition: Gravidis uxoribus Lutetia inclemens. I advise you, Henri, to imitate the example of the count and send the Queen away from here when she is in the same interesting situation "

Monsoreau turned.pale and looked furiously at Chicot, who, his elbow resting on the royal chair and his chin resting on his hand, appeared to be entirely taken up with the lace-makers, who came after the tanners.

" And who told you, you impudent fellow, that Madame la Comtesse was with child ? " murmured Monsoreau.

" Is she not ? " said Chicot. " I should imagine you would consider such a supposition far more impertinent than any other could be."

" Well, she is not, monsieur."

" I say, Henri, did you hear ? " asked Chicot of the King. " It would seem this grand huntsman of yours has committed exactly the same fault you committed yourself. He has forgotten to bring the chemises of Our Lady together."

Monsoreau clenched his hand and swallowed his anger in silence, hurling a look of hatred at Chicot, who answered it by slouching his hat over his eyes and giving an air of defiance to the long, slender plume that drooped over his forehead.

The count saw that the moment would be badly chosen for quarrelling with the jester ; he shook his head, as if he would thus dispel the clouds this dialogue had brought to his brow.

Chicot also brightened up in his turn, and, the swaggering air he had assumed for a moment giving way to a most gracious smile, he added:

"I am afraid that poor countess will never survive the journey. She will be bored to death."

" I told the King," said Monsoreau, u she was travelling with her father."

" Oh, I allow that a father is a very respectable person to travel with, but he is not always very amusing. If the poor lady had none but this excellent baron to entertain her on the road — Luckily, however, she "

"What ? " asked the count, sharply.

" What ' what' are you talking about ? " answered Chicot.

" What do you mean to imply by ' luckily ' ? "

" Ah, you made an ellipsis, M. le Comte, when you spoke last."

The count shrugged his shoulders.

"I assure you I am right, grand huntsman mine ; the interrogative form you just used is called an ellipsis. If you don't believe me, ask Henri; he 's a philologist."

" Yes," answered Henri, " but what does your adverb mean ? "

« What adverb ? "

« Luckily.^

" Luckily meant luckily. Luckily was the word I used, in this admiring the goodness of God, for luckily, at the very moment I am speaking, there are some of our friends rambling along the highways, and friends of the very wittiest description, too, who, when they meet the countess, will be quite sure to amuse and entertain her; that is a dead certainty. And," added Chicot, negligently, " as they follow the same road, I should say it is rather probable that they must meet. Oh, I can see them from here. Do you see them, Henri ? You ought, you are a man with a fine imagination. Dost see them prancing and caracoling along some beautiful green lane or

other, all the time saying sweet things to Madame la Comtesse, who is perfectly enchanted with them, the dear lady ? "

A second dagger this, and even sharper than the first, planted in the breast of the grand huntsman.

However, he had to bear it; he could not show his anger in the King's presence, and Chicot had, for the time at least, an ally in the King. So Monsoreau, putting a terrible curb on his ill-humor, addressed the jester in tones he did his very best to render amiable. . •, f •.. •

'' So M. Chicot," said he, " you have friends on their way to Anjou?"

" You might say with even more truth that we have, M. le Comte ; for those friends are a good deal more your friends than they are mine."

" You astonish me, M. Chicot " said the count. " I know of no one who is "

" Oh, very well; pretend to make a mystery of the matter."

" I give you my word I don't know of any."

" On the contrary, you have so many of such friends and friends so dear to you that, although you knew perfectly well they were on the road to Anjou, from mere force of habit, your eyes were wandering an instant ago over the crowd in search of them ; of course a moment's reflection told you they were not here."

" You say you have seen me doing this ? "

" Yes, you, the grand huntsman, and the palest grand huntsman that has ever existed, from Nimrod to M. d'Autefort, your predecessor."

« M. Chicot!"

" The palest, I repeat, — veritas veritatum. Although that is a barbarism, for one truth cannot be truer than another; if one truth were truer than another, then that other would be false — but you are not a pnilologist, dear M. Esau."

" No, monsieur, I am not ; and so I must request you to come back directly to those friends of mine of whom you spoke, and to have the goodness, if your superabundant imagination will let you, to give those friends their real names."

" Ah, you are always repeating the same thing. Search, M. le Grand Veneur, search. Morbleu ! it is your trade to rouse beasts ; witness that unfortunate stag you started this morning, which never expected such an ill turn on your part. How

should you like if you were prevented from taking a nap in the morning yourself ? "

The eyes of Monsoreau again wandered anxiously over those immediately around the King.

" What ?" he cried, on noticing a place vacant by the King's side.

" What ails you ? " said Chicot.

" Where is M. le Due d'Anjou ?" exclaimed the grand huntsman.

"Tally-ho! Tally-ho!" said the Gascon, "so the beast is started at last! "

" He must have left to-day ! " cried the count.

" He must have left to-day," answered Chicot, " and he may have left yesterday evening. You are not a philologist, monsieur; but you can question the King, who is one. I say, Harry, when did your brother disappear ? "