THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
or double wainscoting! Ventre saint gris! You are either children or fools!”
“But, sire, could not your majesty have left me some hope, if not by word, at least by a gesture or sign?”
“What did my brother-inlaw say to you, De Mouy?” asked Henry.
“Oh, sire, that is not my secret.”
“Well, my God!” continued Henry, with a certain impatience at having to deal with a man who so poorly understood his words. “I do not ask what you proposed to him, I ask you merely if he listened to you, if he heard you.”
“He listened, sire, and he heard.”
“He listened and he heard! You admit it yourself, De Mouy, tactless conspirator that you are! Had I said one word you would have been lost, for I did not know, I merely suspected that he was there, or if not he, someone else, the Duc d’Anjou, Charles IX., or the queen mother, for instance. You do not know the walls of the Louvre, De Mouy; it was for them that the proverb was made which says that walls have ears; and knowing these walls you expected me to speak! Well, well, De Mouy, you pay a small compliment to the common sense of the King of Navarre, and I am surprised that not esteeming him more highly you should have offered him a crown.”
“But, sire,” said De Mouy, “could you not even while refusing this crown have given me some sign? In that case I should not have considered everything hopeless and lost.”
“Well! Ventre saint gris!” exclaimed Henry, “if one can hear cannot one see also? and is not one lost by a sign as much as by a word? See, De Mouy,” continued the king, looking around him, “at the present moment, so near to you that my words do not reach beyond the circle of our three chairs, I still fear I may be overheard when I say: De Mouy, repeat your proposal to me.”
“But, sire,” cried De Mouy in despair, “I am now engaged with Monsieur d’Alençon.”
Marguerite angrily clasped and unclasped her beautiful hands.
“Then it is too late?” said she.
“On the contrary,” murmured Henry, “know that even in this, God’s hand is visible. Continue your arrangement, De Mouy, for in Duc François lies our safety. Do you suppose that the King of Navarre would guarantee your heads? On the contrary, wretched man, I should have you all killed to the last one, and on the least suspicion. But with a son of France it is different. Secure proofs, De Mouy, ask for guarantees; but, stupid that you are, you will be deeply involved, and one word will suffice for you.”
“Oh, sire, it was my despair at your having left us, believe me, which threw me into the arms of the duke; it was also the fear of being betrayed, for he kept our secret.”
“Keep his, now, De Mouy; it rests with you. What does he wish? To leave court? Furnish him with means to escape. Work for him, De Mouy, as if you were working for me, turn the shield so that he may parry every blow they aim at us. When it is time to flee, we will both flee. When it is time to fight and reign, I will reign alone.”
“Do not trust the duke,” said Marguerite, “he is gloomy and acute, without hatred as without love; ever ready to treat his friends like enemies and his enemies like friends.”
“And he is expecting you now, De Mouy?” said Henry.
“Yes, sire.”
“Where?”
“In the apartment belonging to his two gentlemen.”
“At what time?”
“Before midnight.”
“It is not yet eleven o’clock,” said Henry, “so you have lost no time; now you may go, De Mouy.”
“We have your word, monsieur?” said Marguerite.
“Come now, madame!” said Henry, with the confidence he knew so well how to use with certain people and on certain occasions, “with Monsieur de Mouy, such things are not even asked for.”
“You are right, sire,” replied the young man; “but I need your word, for I shall have to tell the leaders that I have it. You are not a Catholic, are you?”
Henry shrugged his shoulders.
“You do not renounce the kingdom of Navarre?”
“I renounce no kingdom, De Mouy, I merely reserve for myself the choice of the best; that is, the one which shall best suit me and you.”
“And if in the meantime your majesty should be arrested, you would promise to reveal nothing even should they torture your royal majesty?”
“De Mouy, I swear that, before God.”
“One further word, sire. How am I to see you in future?”
“After tomorrow you shall have a key to my room. You will come there, De Mouy, as often as it may be necessary and when you please. It is for the Duc d’Alençon to answer for your presence in the Louvre. In the meantime, use the small stairway. I will show you the way. The queen will have the cherry-colored cloak like yours come here — the one who was in the antechamber just now. No one must notice any difference between you, or know that there are two of you, De Mouy. Do you not agree with me? And you, madame?” Henry looked at Marguerite and uttered the last words with a smile.
“Yes,” said she, without moving a feature; “for this Monsieur de la Mole belongs to my brother, the duke.”
“Well, madame, try to win him over to our side,” said Henry, in perfect seriousness. “Spare neither gold nor promises; I will put all my treasures at his disposal.”
“In that case,” said Marguerite, with one of the smiles which belong only to the women of Boccaccio, “since this is your wish, I will do my best to second it.”
“Very good, madame; and you, De Mouy, return to the duke, and make sure of him.”
9. “I am alone; enter, my dear.”
Chapter 26.
Margarita.
During the conversation which we have just related, La Mole and Coconnas mounted guard. La Mole somewhat chagrined, Coconnas somewhat anxious. La Mole had had time to reflect, and in this he had been greatly aided by Coconnas.
“What do you think of all this, my friend?” La Mole had asked of Coconnas.
“I think,” the Piedmontese had replied, “that there is some court intrigue connected with it.”
“And such being the case, are you disposed to play a part in it?”
“My dear fellow,” replied Coconnas, “listen well to what I am going to say to you and try and profit by it. In all these princely dealings, in all royal affairs, we can and should be nothing but shadows. Where the King of Navarre leaves a bit of his plume and the Duc d’Alençon a piece of his cloak, we leave our lives. The queen has a fancy for you, and you for her. Nothing is better. Lose your head in love, my dear fellow, but not in politics.”
That was wise council. Therefore it was heard by La Mole with the melancholy of a man who feels that, placed between reason and madness, it is madness he will follow.
“I have not a fancy for the queen, Annibal, I love her; and fortunately or unfortunately I love her with all my heart. This is madness, you will say. Well, I admit that I am mad. But you are wise, Coconnas, you ought not to suffer for my foolishness and my misfortune. Go back to our master and do not compromise yourself.”
Coconnas pondered an instant. Then raising his head:
“My dear fellow,” he replied, “all that you tell me is perfectly reasonable;