Kitabı oku: «Chicot the Jester», sayfa 25

CHAPTER LXXIV.
HOW THE AMBASSADOR OF THE DUC D’ANJOU ARRIVED AT THE LOUVRE, AND THE RECEPTION HE MET WITH

As neither Catherine nor the Duc d’Anjou reappeared at the Louvre, the dissension between the brothers became apparently every day more and more certain. The king thought, “No news, bad news.” The minions added, “François, badly counseled, has detained the queen-mother.”

Badly counseled. In these words were comprised all the policy of this singular reign, and the three preceding ones. Badly counseled was Charles IX. when he authorized the massacre of St. Bartholomew. Badly counseled was François II. when he ordered the massacre at Amboise. Badly counseled had been Henri II. when he burned so many heretics and conspirators. And now they dared not say, “Your brother has the family blood in his veins; he wishes, like the rest, to dethrone or poison; he would do to you what you did to your elder brother; what your elder brother did to his, what your mother has taught you to do to one another.” Therefore they said, “Your brother is badly counseled.”

Now, as only one person was able to counsel François, it was against Bussy that the cry was raised, which became every day more and more furious. At last the news was spread that the duke had sent an ambassador. At this the king grew pale with anger, and the minions swore that he should be cut to pieces, and a piece sent to all the provinces of France as a specimen of the king’s anger. Chicot said nothing, but he reflected. Now the king thought much of Chicot’s reflections, and he questioned him about them.

“Sire,” replied he, “if your brother sends an ambassador, it is because he feels himself strong enough to do so; he who is prudence itself. Now, if he is strong, we must temporize with him. Let us respect his ambassador, and receive him with civility. That engages you to nothing. Do you remember how your brother embraced Admiral Coligny, who came as ambassador from the Huguenots?”

“Then you approve of the policy of my brother Charles?”

“Not so, but I cite a fact; and I say to you, do not hurt a poor devil of a herald, or ambassador; perhaps we may find the way to seize the master, the mover, the chief, the great Duc d’Anjou, with the three Guises; and if you can shut them up in a place safer than the Louvre, do it.”

“That is not so bad.”

“Then why do you let all your friends bellow so?”

“Bellow!”

“Yes; I would say, roar, if they could be taken for lions, but they are more like bearded apes.”

“Chicot, they are my friends.”

“Friends! I would lay any bet to make them all turn against you before to-morrow.”

“Well, what do you advise?”

“To wait, my son. Half the wisdom of Solomon lies in that word. If an ambassador arrive, receive him courteously. And as to your brother, kill him if you can and like, but do not degrade him. He is a great knave, but he is a Valois; besides, he can do that well enough for himself.”

“It is true, Chicot.”

“One more lesson that you owe me. Now let me sleep, Henri; for the last week I have been engaged in fuddling a monk.”

“A monk! the one of whom you have already spoken to me?”

“Just so. You promised him an abbey.”

“I?”

“Pardieu! it is the least you can do for him, after all he has done for you.”

“He is then still devoted to me?”

“He adores you. Apropos, my son – ”

“What?”

“In three weeks it will be the Fête Dieu.”

“Well!”

“Are we to have some pretty little procession?”

“I am the most Christian king, and it is my duty to set an example to my subjects.”

“And you will, as usual, stop at the four great convents of Paris?”

“Yes.”

“At St. Geneviève?”

“Yes, that is the second I stop at.”

“Good.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing – I was curious. Now I know all I want, so good night, Henri!”

But just as Chicot prepared to leave, a great noise was heard.

“What is that noise?” said the king.

“It is ordained that I am not to sleep. Henri, you must get me a room in the town, or I must leave your service; the Louvre becomes insupportable.”

At this moment the captain of the guards entered, saying, “Sire, it is an envoy from M. le Duc d’Anjou.”

“With a suite?”

“No, sire, alone.”

“Then you must receive him doubly well, Henri, for he is a brave fellow.”

“Well,” said the king, very pale, but trying to look calm, “let all my court assemble in the great hall.”

CHAPTER LXXV.
WHICH IS ONLY THE END OF THE PRECEDING ONE

Henri sat on his throne in the great hall, and around him was grouped an eager crowd. He looked pale and frowning.

“Sire,” said Quelus to the king, “do you know the name of the ambassador?”

“No; but what does it matter?”

“Sire, it is M. de Bussy; the insult is doubled.”

“I see no insult,” said the king, with affected sang-froid.

“Let him enter,” continued he. Bussy, with his hat in his hand, and his head erect, advanced straight to the king, and waited, with his usual look of pride, to be interrogated.

“You here, M. de Bussy!” said the king; “I thought you were in Anjou.”

“Sire, I was, but you see I have quitted it.”

“And what brings you here?”

“The desire of presenting my humble respects to your majesty.”

The king and courtiers looked astonished; they expected a different answer.

“And nothing else?” said the king.

“I will add, sire, the orders I received from the Duc d’Anjou to join his respects to mine.”

“And the duke said nothing else?”

“Only that he was on the point of returning with the queen-mother, and wished me to apprise your majesty of the return of one of your most faithful subjects.”

The king was choked with surprise.

“Good morning, M. de Bussy,” said Chicot.

Bussy turned, astonished to find a friend in that place.

“Good day, M. Chicot; I am delighted to see you.”

“Is that all you have to say, M. de Bussy?” asked the king.

“Yes, sire; anything that remains to be said, will be said by the duke himself.”

The king rose and went away, and Bussy continued to converse with Chicot, until the king called to him. As soon as Bussy was alone, Quelus approached him.

“Good morning, M. Quelus,” said Bussy graciously; “may I have the honor of asking how you are?”

“Very bad.”

“Oh, mon Dieu! what is the matter?”

“Something annoys me infinitely.”

“Something! And are you not powerful enough to get rid of it?”

“It is not something, but some one, that M. Quelus means,” said Maugiron, advancing.

“And whom I advise him to get rid of,” said Schomberg, coming forward on the other side.

“Ah, M. de Schomberg! I did not recognize you.”

“Perhaps not; is my face still blue?”

“Not so; you are very pale. Are you not well?”

“Yes, it is with anger.”

“Oh I then you have also some one who annoys you?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“And I also,” said Maugiron.

“Really, gentlemen, you all look very gloomy.”

“You forget me,” said D’Epernon, planting himself before Bussy.

“Pardon me, M. d’Epernon, you were behind the others, as usual, and I have so little the pleasure of knowing you, that it was not for me to speak first.”

It was strange to see Bussy smiling and calm among those four furious faces, whose eyes spoke with so terrible an eloquence, that he must have been blind or stupid not to have understood their language.

But Bussy never lost his smile.

“It seems to me that there is an echo in this room,” said he quietly.

“Look, gentlemen,” said Quelus, “how provincial M. de Bussy has become; he has a beard, and no knot to his sword; he has black boots and a gray hat.”

“It is an observation that I was just making to myself, my dear sir; seeing you so well dressed, I said to myself, ‘How much harm a few weeks’ absence does to a man; here am I, Louis de Clermont, forced to take a little Gascon gentleman as a model of taste.’ But let me pass; you are so near to me that you tread on my feet, and I feel it in spite of my boots.”

And turning away, he advanced towards St. Luc, whom he saw approaching.

“Incredible!” cried all the young men, “we insulted him; he took no notice.”

“There is something in it,” said Quelus.

“Well!” said the king, advancing, “what were you and M. de Bussy saying?”

“Do you wish to know what M. de Bussy said, sire?”

“Yes, I am curious.”

“Well, I trod on his foot, and insulted him, and he said nothing.”

“What, gentlemen,” cried Henri, feigning anger, “you dared to insult a gentleman in the Louvre!”

“Alas! yes, sire, and he said nothing.”

“Well! I am going to the queen.”

As the king went out of the great door, St. Luc reentered by a side one, and advanced towards the four gentlemen.

“Pardon, M. Quelus,” said he, “but do you still live in the Rue St. Honoré?”

“Yes, my dear friend; why do you ask?”

“I have two words to say to you.”

“Ah!”

“And you, M. de Schomberg?”

“Rue Béthisy,” said Schomberg, astonished.

“D’Epernon’s address I know.”

“Rue de Grenelle.”

“You are my neighbor. And you, Maugiron?”

“Near the Louvre. But I begin to understand; you come from M. de Bussy.”

“Never mind from whom I come; I have to speak to you, that is all.”

“To all four of us?”

“Yes.”

“Then if you cannot speak here, let us all go to Schomberg’s; it is close by.”

“So be it.”

And the five gentlemen went out of the Louvre arm in arm.

CHAPTER LXXVI.
HOW M. DE ST. LUC ACQUITTED HIMSELF OF THE COMMISSION GIVEN TO HIM BY BUSSY

Let us leave St. Luc a little while in Schomberg’s room, and see what had passed between him and Bussy.

Once out of the hall, St. Luc had stopped, and looked anxiously at his friend.

“Are you ill?” said he, “you are so pale; you look as though you were about to faint.”

“No, I am only choking with anger.”

“You do not surely mind those fellows?”

“You shall see.”

“Come, Bussy, be calm.”

“You are charming, really; be calm, indeed! if you had had half said to you that I have had, some one would have been dead before this.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“You are my friend; you have already given me a terrible proof of it.”

“Ah! my dear friend,” said St. Luc, who believed Monsoreau dead and buried, “do not thank me, it is not worth while; certainly the thrust was a good one, and succeeded admirably, but it was the king who showed it me, when he kept me here a prisoner at the Louvre.”

“Dear friend.”

“Never mind Monsoreau; tell me about Diana. Was she pleased at last? Does she pardon me? When will the wedding take place?”

“Oh! my dear friend, we must wait till Monsoreau is dead.”

“What!” cried St. Luc, starting back as though he had put his foot on a pointed nail.

“Yes; poppies are not such dangerous plants as you thought; he did not die from his fall on them, but is alive and more furious than ever.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and he talks of nothing but vengeance, and of killing you on the first occasion.”

“And I have announced his death to everyone; he will find his heirs in mourning. But he shall not give me the lie; I shall meet him again, and if he escapes me a second time – ”

“Calm yourself, my dear St. Luc; really, I am better off than you would think; it is the duke whom he suspects, and of whom he is jealous. I am his dear Bussy – his precious friend. That is only natural, for it was that fool of a Rémy who cured him.

“What an idiot he must have been!”

“He has an idea that, as an honest man and a doctor, it is his duty to cure people. However, Monsoreau says he owes his life to me, and confides his wife to my care.”

“Ah! I understand that this makes you wait more patiently for his death. However, I am quite thunderstruck at the news.”

“But, now, my friend, let us leave Monsoreau.”

“Yes, let us enjoy life while he is still ill; but once he is well, I shall order myself a suit of mail, have new locks put on my doors, and you must ask the Duc d’Anjou if his mother has not given him some antidote against poison. Meanwhile, let us amuse ourselves.”

“Well, my dear friend, you see you have only rendered me half a service.”

“Do you wish me to finish it?”

“Yes, in another way.”

“Speak.”

“Are you great friends with those four gentlemen?”

“Ma foi! we are something like cats and dogs in the sun; as long as we an get the heat, we agree, but if one of us took the warmth from another, then I do not answer for the consequences.”

“Well, will you go for me to M. Quelus, first?”

“Ah!”

“And ask him what day it will please him that I should cut his throat, or he mine?”

“I will.”

“You do not mind it?”

“Not the least in the world. I will go at once if you wish it.”

“One moment; as you go, just call on M. Schomberg and make him the same proposal.”

“Schomberg too? Diable, how you go on! Well, as you wish.”

“Then, my dear St. Luc, as you are so amiable, go also to M. Maugiron, and ask him to join the party.”

“What, three! Bussy, you cannot mean it. I hope that is all.”

“No; from him go to D’Epernon.”

“Four!”

“Even so, my dear friend; I need not recommend to a man like you to proceed with courtesy and politeness towards these gentlemen. Let the thing be done in gallant fashion.”

“You shall be content, my friend. What are your conditions?”

“I make none; I accept theirs.”

“Your arms?”

“What they like.”

“The day, place, and hour?”

“Whatever suits them.”

“But – ”

“Oh! never mind such trifles, but do it quickly; I will walk in the little garden of the Luxembourg; you will find me there when you have executed your commission.”

“You will wait, then?”

“Yes.”

“It may be long.”

“I have time.”

We know how St. Luc found the four young men, and accompanied them to Schomberg’s house. St. Luc remained in the ante-chamber, waiting until, according to the etiquette of the day, the four young men were installed in the saloon ready to receive him. Then an usher came and saluted St. Luc, who followed him to the threshold of the saloon, where he announced M. d’Espinay de St. Luc.

Schomberg then rose and saluted his visitor, who, to mark the character of the visit, instead of returning it, put on his hat. Schomberg then, turning towards Quelus, said,

“I have the honor to present to you M. Jacques de Levis, Comte de Quelus.”

The two gentlemen bowed, and then the same ceremony was gone through with the others. This done, the four friends sat down, but St. Luc remained standing and said to Quelus,

“M. le Comte, you have insulted M. le Comte Louis de Clermont d’Amboise, Seigneur de Bussy, who presents to you his compliments, and calls you to single combat on any day and hour, and with such arms as may please you. Do you accept?”

“Certainly; M. de Bussy does me much honor.”

“Your day and hour, M. le Comte?”

“To-morrow morning at seven o’clock.”

“Your arms?”

“Rapier and dagger, if that suits M. de Bussy.”

St. Luc bowed. Then he addressed the same questions to the others, and received the same answers.

“If we all choose the same day and hour, M. de Bussy will be rather embarrassed,” said Schomberg.

“Certainly,” replied St. Luc, “M. de Bussy may be embarrassed, but he says that the circumstance would not be new to him, as it has already happened at the Tournelles.”

“And he would fight us all four?”

“All four.”

“Separately?”

“Separately, or at once.”

The four young men looked at each other; then Quelus, red with anger, said:

“It is very fine of M. de Bussy, but however little we may be worth, we can each do our own work; we will accept, therefore, the count’s proposal, fighting separately, or rather, which will be still better, as we do not seek to assassinate a gallant man, chance shall decide which of us shall fight M. de Bussy.”

“And the three others?”

“Oh! M. de Bussy has too many friends, and we too many enemies, for them to remain with folded arms. Do you agree to this, gentlemen?”

“Yes!” cried all.

“If MM. Ribeirac, Antragues, and Livarot would join the party, it would be complete.”

“Gentlemen,” said St. Luc, “I will transmit your desires to M. de Bussy, and I believe I may promise that he is too courteous not to agree to your wishes. It therefore only remains for me to thank you in his name.”

Then he took his leave, after throwing his purse to the four lackeys, whom he found outside, to drink to their masters’ healths.

CHAPTER LXXVII.
IN WHAT RESPECT M. DE ST. LUC WAS MORE CIVILIZED THAN M. DE BUSSY, THE LESSONS WHICH HE GAVE HIM, AND THE USE WHICH M. DE BUSSY MADE OF THEM

St. Luc returned, proud of having executed his commission so well. Bussy thanked him, but looked sad, which was not natural to him.

“Have I done badly?” said St. Luc.

“Ma foi, my dear friend, I only regret you did not say, ‘at once.’”

“Why! what is the hurry?”

“I wish to die as soon as possible.”

St. Luc looked at him in astonishment.

“Die! at your age, with your name, and Diana!”

“Yes, I shall kill them, I know, but I shall receive some good blow which will tranquilize me forever.”

“What black ideas, Bussy!”

“A husband whom I thought dead, and who has returned to life; a wife who can scarcely quit the bedside of the pretended dying man. Not to see her, smile on her, touch her hand. Mon Dieu! – ”

St. Luc interrupted him with a burst of laughter. “Oh!” cried he, “the innocent man. Why, no lover can be more fortunate than you.”

“Prove that to me.”

“You are the friend of M. de Monsoreau.”

“Yes, I am ashamed to say, he calls me his friend.”

“Well! be his friend.”

“Oh! and abuse this title!”

“Is he really your friend?”

“He says so.”

“No; for he makes you unhappy. Now the end of friendship is to make one another happy. At least, so his majesty says, and he is learned in friendship. So, if he makes you unhappy, he is not your friend; therefore you may treat him either as a stranger, and take his wife from him, or as an enemy, and kill him if he murmurs.”

“In fact, I hate him. But do you not think he loves me?”

“Diable! Take away his wife and see.”

“I must continue to be a man of honor.”

“And let Madame de Monsoreau cure her husband both physically and morally. For it is certain that if you get yourself killed, she will attach herself to the only man who remains to her.”

Bussy frowned.

“But,” added St. Luc, “here is my wife; she always gives good advice. She has been picking herself a bouquet in the gardens of the queen-mother, and will be in a good humor. Listen to her; she speaks gold.”

Jeanne arrived radiant, full of happiness and fun. Bussy saluted her in a friendly manner, and she held out her hand to him, saying, with a smile, “How go on the love affairs?”

“They are dying.”

“They are wounded and fainting; perhaps you can restore them, Jeanne?”

“Let me see; show me the wound.”

“In two words, this is it: M. de Bussy does not like smiling on M. de Monsoreau, and he thinks of retiring.”

“And leaving Diana to him?”

“Oh! madame, St. Luc does not tell you that I wish to die.”

“Poor Diana!” murmured Jeanne, “decidedly men are ungrateful.”

“Good! this is the conclusion my wife draws.”

“I, ungrateful!” cried Bussy, “because I fear to render my love vile, by practising a disgraceful hypocrisy?”

“Oh! monsieur, that is only a pretext. If you were really in love, you would fear but one thing – not to be loved in return.”

“But, madame, there are sacrifices – ”

“Not another word. Confess that you love Diana no longer; it will be more worthy of a gallant man.”

Bussy grew pale.

“You do not dare to tell her; well, I will.”

“Madame! madame!”

“You are rich, you men, with your sacrifices. And does she make none? What! expose herself to be massacred by that tiger of a Monsoreau, preserve her position only by employing a strength of will of which Samson or Hannibal would have been incapable. Oh! I swear, Diana is sublime, I could not do a quarter of what she does every day.”

“Thank you!” said St. Luc.

“And he hesitates!” continued she, “he does not fall on his knees and say his mea culpa.”

“You are right,” said Bussy, “I am but a man, that is to say, an imperfect creature, inferior to the most commonplace woman.”

“It is lucky you are convinced of it.”

“What do you order me?”

“To go at once and pay it visit – ”

“To M. de Monsoreau?”

“Who speaks of him? – to Diana.”

“But he never leaves her.”

“When you went so often to see Madame de Barbezieux, had she not always near her that great ape who bit you because he was jealous?”

Bussy began to laugh, and St. Luc and Jeanne followed his example.

“Madame,” then said Bussy, “I am going to M. de Monsoreau’s house; adieu.”

He went there, and found the count in bed; he was delighted to see him, and told him that Rémy promised that his wound would be cured in three weeks. Bussy recounted to him the commission with which he had been charged, and his visit to the court.

“The duke has still projects on foot, has he not?”

“I believe so.”

“Do not compromise yourself for that bad man; I know him: he is perfidious, and will not hesitate to betray you.”

“I know it.”

“You are my friend, and I wish to put you on your guard.”

“You must sleep after the dressing of your wound,” said Rémy.

“Yes, my dear doctor. My friend, take a turn in the garden with Madame de Monsoreau.”

“I am at your orders,” replied Bussy.