THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
I understand, my good brother, you are angry because I was the first to call the King’s attention to the fact that your ball struck the leg of his horse instead of the boar, as you intended it should. But what can you expect? I could not prevent an exclamation of surprise. Besides, the King would have noticed it, would he not?”
“No doubt, no doubt,” murmured D’Alençon. “And yet I can think of it only as an evil intention on your part to denounce me as you did, and which, as you yourself saw, had no result except to make my brother Charles suspect me, and to make hard feeling between us.”
“We will return to this in a few moments. As to my good or evil intentions regarding you, I have come to you on purpose that you may judge them.”
“Very good!” said D’Alençon with his customary reserve. “Speak, Henry, I am listening.”
“When I have spoken, François, you will readily see what my intentions are, for the confidence I am going to place in you does away with all reserve and prudence. And when I have told you, you will be able to ruin me by a single word!”
“What is it?” said François, beginning to be anxious.
“And yet,” continued Henry, “I have hesitated a long time to speak to you of the thing which brings me here, especially after the way in which you turned a deaf ear today.”
“Really,” said François, growing pale, “I do not know what you mean, Henry.”
“Brother, your interests are too dear to me not to tell you that the Huguenots have made advances to me.”
“Advances!” said D’Alençon. “What advances?”
“One of them, Monsieur de Mouy of Saint Phal, the son of the brave De Mouy, assassinated by Maurevel, you know”—
“Yes.”
“Well, he came at the risk of his life to show me that I was in captivity.”
“Ah! indeed! and what did you say to him?”
“Brother, you know that I love Charles dearly. He has saved my life, and the queen mother has been like a real mother to me. So I refused all the offers he made me.”
“What were these offers?”
“The Huguenots want to reconstruct the throne of Navarre, and as in reality this throne belongs to me by inheritance, they offered it to me.”
“Yes; and Monsieur de Mouy, instead of the consent he expected to ask for, has received your relinquishment?”
“My formal relinquishment — even in writing. But since,” continued Henry.
“You have repented, brother?” interrupted D’Alençon.
“No, I merely thought I noticed that Monsieur de Mouy had become discontented with me, and was paying his visits elsewhere.”
“Where?” asked François quickly.
“I do not know. At the Prince of Condé‘s perhaps.”
“Yes, that might be,” said the duke.
“Besides,” went on Henry, “I have positive knowledge as to the leader he has chosen.”
François grew pale.
“But,” continued Henry, “the Huguenots are divided among themselves, and De Mouy, brave and loyal as he is, represents only one-half of the party. Now this other half, which is not to be scorned, has not given up the hope of having Henry of Navarre on the throne, who having hesitated at first may have reflected since.”
“You think this?”
“Oh, every day I receive proofs of it. The troops which joined us at the hunt, did you notice of what men it was composed?”
“Yes, of converted gentlemen.”
“Did you recognize the leader of the troop who signed to me?”
“Yes, it was the Vicomte de Turenne.”
“Did you know what they wanted of me?”
“Yes, they proposed to you to escape.”
“Then,” said Henry to François, who was growing restless, “there is evidently a second party which wants something else besides what Monsieur de Mouy wants.”
“A second party?”
“Yes, and a very powerful one, I tell you, so that in order to succeed it is necessary to unite the two — Turenne and De Mouy. The conspiracy progresses, the troops are ready, the signal alone is waited for. Now in this supreme situation, which demands prompt solution on my part, I have come to two decisions between which I am wavering. I have come to submit these decisions to you as to a friend.”
“Say rather as to a brother.”
“Yes, as to a brother,” went on Henry.
“Speak, then, I am listening.”
“In the first place I ought to explain to you the condition of my mind, my dear François. No desire, no ambition, no ability. I am an honest country gentleman, poor, sensual, and timid. The career of conspirator offers me indignities poorly compensated for even by the certain prospect of a crown.”
“Ah, brother,” said François, “you do wrong. Sad indeed is the position of a prince whose fortune is limited by the boundary of the paternal estate or by a man in a career for honors! I do not believe, therefore, in what you tell me.”
“And yet what I tell you is so true, brother, that if I thought I had a true friend, I would resign in his favor the power which this party wishes to give me; but,” he added with a sigh, “I have none.”
“Perhaps you have. You probably are mistaken.”
“No, ventre saint gris!” said Henry, “except yourself, brother, I see no one who is attached to me; so that rather than let fail an attempt which might bring to light some unworthy man, I truly prefer to inform my brother the King of what is taking place. I will mention no names, I will designate neither country nor date, but I will foretell the catastrophe.”
“Great God!” exclaimed D’Alençon unable to repress his terror, “what do you mean? What! you, you, the sole hope of the party since the death of the admiral; you, a converted Huguenot, a poor convert, or at least such you were thought to be, you would raise the knife against your brothers! Henry, Henry, by doing this, do you know that you would be delivering to a second Saint Bartholomew all the Calvinists in the kingdom? Do you know that Catharine is waiting for just such a chance to exterminate all who have survived?”
And the duke trembling, his face spotted with red and white blotches, pressed Henry’s hand to beg him to give up this idea which would ruin him.
“What!” said Henry, with an expression of perfect good-humor, “do you think there would be so much trouble, François? With the King’s word, however, it seems to me that I should avoid it.”
“The word of King Charles IX., Henry! Did not the admiral have it? Did not Téligny have it? Did not you yourself have it? Oh, Henry, I tell you if you do this, you will ruin us all. Not only them, but all who have had direct or indirect relations with them.”
Henry seemed to ponder an instant.
“If I were an important prince at court,” said he, “I should act differently. In your place, for instance, in your place, François, a son of France, and probable heir to the crown”—
François shook his head ironically.
“In my place,” said he, “what would you do?”
“In your place, brother,” replied Henry, “I should place myself at the head of the movement and direct it. My name and my credit should answer to my conscience for the life of the rebellious, and I should derive some benefit first for myself, then for the King, perhaps, from an enterprise which