BETWEEN TWO DUTIES
The marriage contracts of Élisabeth and Marguerite de France were to be
signed at the Louvre on the 28th of June, and the king returned to Paris
on the 25th, more cast down and preoccupied than ever.
Especially since Gabriel's last appearance, his life had become a
torment to him. He avoided being left alone, and constantly sought means
of banishing temporarily the sombre thought by which he was possessed,
so to speak.
But he had not mentioned that second encounter to a single soul; he was
at once anxious and afraid to unbosom himself on the subject to some
devoted and faithful heart; for he himself no longer knew what to think
or what course to adopt, and the fearful thought which haunted him had
thrown his mind into utter confusion.
Finally he determined to open his heart to Diane de Castro.
Diane had surely seen Gabriel again, he said to himself; there was no
question that the young count had just left her when he encountered him
the first time, so that Diane might possibly know his plans. In that
case, she could and she ought either to set her father's mind at rest or
to warn him; and Henri, despite the bitter doubts with which he was
ceaselessly assailed, did not believe his beloved daughter capable of
treachery toward him, or of conniving at it.
A mysterious instinct seemed to whisper to him that Diane was no less
anxious than he. In fact, Diane de Castro, although she knew nothing of
the two strange meetings which had taken place between the king and
Gabriel, was equally ignorant as to what had become of the latter during
the last few days. André, whom she had despatched several times to the
house in the Rue des Jardins St. Paul to learn something of Gabriel's
movements, had brought her no information. He had disappeared from Paris
again. We have seen him haunting the king at Fontainebleau.
In the afternoon of June 26 Diane was sitting pensively in her
apartments, quite alone, when one of her women came hurriedly in to
announce the king.
Henri's face wore its ordinary grave expression. After the first
greetings, he plunged at once into the matter in hand, as if to throw
off his troublesome anxiety at the first opportunity.
"Dear Diane," said he, gazing intently into his daughter's eyes, "it is
a long time since we have spoken together of Monsieur d'Exmès, who has
now taken the title of Comte de Montgommery. It is a long time also
since you have seen him, is it not? Tell me."
Diane at Gabriel's name turned pale and shuddered.
"Sire," she replied, "I have seen Monsieur d'Exmès once only since my
return from Calais."
"Where did you see him, Diane?" asked the king.
"At the Louvre, Sire, in this very room."
"About a fortnight ago, was it not?"
"I should think it was about that time, Sire," replied Madame de Castro.
"I suspected as much," returned the king.
He paused a moment, as if to rearrange his ideas.
Diane observed him attentively and fearfully, trying to divine the
purpose of his unexpected question.
But Henri's serious expression seemed impenetrable.
"Excuse me, Sire," she said, mustering all her courage. "May I venture
to ask your Majesty why, after your long silence as to him who saved me
from disgrace at Calais, you have done me the honor to pay me this visit
to-day, and at this hour, expressly, I should judge, to interrogate me
about him?"
"Do you wish to know, Diane?" asked the king.
"Sire, I am so bold," she replied.
"Very well, then, you shall know all," said Henri; "and I pray that my
confidence may invite and induce yours. You have often told me that you
loved me, my child."
"I have said it, and I say it again, Sire," cried Diane: "I love you as
my sovereign, my benefactor, and my father."
"Therefore I may reveal everything to my loyal and loving daughter,"
said the king; "so listen, Diane."
"I listen with all my soul, Sire."
Henri then described his two encounters with Gabriel,--the first in the
gallery of the Louvre, and the other in the forest of Fontainebleau. He
told Diane of the strange demeanor, as of mute rebellion, which the
young man had adopted, and how on the first occasion he had declined to
raise his hand to salute his king, and the second time had declined to
raise his hand to save his life.
Diane at this recital could not conceal her grief and her alarm. The
conflict which she so dreaded between Gabriel and the king had already
manifested itself on two occasions, and might soon appear again in a
still more dangerous and terrible form.
Henri, affecting not to notice his daughter's emotion, ended with these
words:--
"These are serious offences, are they not, Diane? They almost amount to
_lèse-majesté_! And yet I have concealed these insults from everybody,
and dissembled my indignation, because this young man has really
suffered at my hands in the past, notwithstanding the glorious service
he has rendered my kingdom, which ought doubtless to have been rewarded
much more generously." Fixing a piercing glance upon Diane, the king
continued,--
"I do not know, Diane, nor do I wish to know, whether you have been made
acquainted with the wrong I have done Monsieur d'Exmès; I only wish you
to feel that my silence has been due to my appreciation of that wrong
and my regret for it. But is it not imprudent for me to maintain
silence? Do not these outrages give warning of others more flagrant
still? Ought I not to have an eye to Monsieur d'Exmès? Upon these
points I have come, Diane, to ask for your friendly advice."
"I am grateful for your confidence in me, Sire," replied Diane,
sorrowfully, being thus forced to choose between the duty which she owed
respectively to the two men who were dearest to her on earth.
"It is a very natural confidence, Diane," the king returned. "Well?" he
added, observing that his daughter seemed to be at a loss.
"Well, Sire," replied Diane, with an effort, "I think that your Majesty
is right, and that for you to take some notice of Monsieur d'Exmès's
movements will perhaps be the wisest course you can adopt."
"Do you think, then, Diane, that my life is in danger from him?" asked
Henri.
"Oh, I did not say that, Sire!" cried Diane, warmly. "But Monsieur
d'Exmès seems to have been wounded to the quick, and there may be
danger perhaps--"
Poor Diane stopped abruptly, quivering with the torture she was
undergoing, the perspiration standing on her forehead in great beads.
This species of denunciation, which her moral sense had almost torn from
her, was very repugnant to her noble heart.
But Henri put a wholly different construction upon her very evident
distress.
"I understand you, Diane," said he, rising and pacing heavily to and
fro. "Yes, I foresaw it clearly. You see I must be suspicious of this
young man; but to live with this Damocles's sword forever hanging over
my head is impossible. The obligations of kings are not the same as
those by which other gentlemen are governed. I propose to take effective
measures to protect myself against Monsieur d'Exmès."
He walked toward the door as if to leave the room, but Diane threw
herself in his path.
What, Gabriel to be accused and perhaps imprisoned! And it was she,
Diane, who had betrayed him! She could not abide the thought. After all,
Gabriel's words had not been so full of menace.
"Sire, one moment, pray!" she cried. "You are mistaken; I swear that you
are mistaken! I have not said a word to imply that your doubly sacred
head is in danger. Nothing in Monsieur d'Exmès's confidences could ever
make me suspect him capable of crime. Otherwise, great God! would I not
have told you everything?"
"Very true," said Henri, stopping once more; "but what did you mean to
say, then, Diane?"
"I meant to say simply that I thought it would be well for your Majesty
to avoid as far as possible these vexatious encounters where an offended
subject is enabled to show his forgetfulness of the respect due to his
king. But a regicide's failure to show respect is a very different
matter. Sire, would it be worthy of you to try to remedy one unjust act
by another equally iniquitous?"
"No, surely not; I had no such intention," said the king; "and I have
proved it by keeping these occurrences to myself. Since you have
dissipated my suspicions, Diane; since you will answer for my bodily
safety to your own conscience and before God; and since in your opinion
I may be perfectly tranquil--"
"Tranquil!" Diane interrupted with a shudder. "Ah, I didn't go so far as
that, Sire. With what a terrible load of responsibility you overwhelm
me! On the contrary, your Majesty ought to be careful and on your
guard--"
"No," said the king, "I cannot live in a condition of never-ending dread
and apprehension. For two weeks I have entirely ceased to enjoy life.
This state of affairs must come to an end. One of two things must
happen: either trusting in your word, Diane, I shall go tranquilly on
with my life, thinking of the welfare of my realm, and not of my
enemy,--in short, without troubling myself further about Vicomte
d'Exmès; or I shall see that this man who bears me ill-will is put
where he can no longer injure me, by giving information of his outrages;
and since I occupy too proud and lofty a position to defend myself, I
shall leave that task to those whose duty it is to safeguard my person."
"And who are they, Sire?" asked Diane.
"Why, Monsieur de Montmorency, first of all, as constable and
commander-in-chief of the army."
"Monsieur de Montmorency!" echoed Diane, with an accent of horror.
That detested name at once recalled to her mind all the misfortunes of
Gabriel's father, his long and harsh captivity, and his death. If
Gabriel in turn should fall into the constable's hands, a like fate was
in store for him, and his destruction was certain.
In her imagination Diane saw him whom she had loved so dearly immured in
a dungeon without light or air, and dying there in one night, or, more
fearful still, lingering on for twenty years, and dying at the last
cursing God and man, but more than all Diane the traitress, who with her
equivocal and hesitating words had basely betrayed him.
There was no proof that Gabriel wished to slay the king, or would be
able to do it, while there was no room for doubt that the bitter enmity
of Monsieur de Montmorency would have no mercy on Gabriel.
Diane went over all this in her mind in a few seconds, and when the king
finally propounded the direct question to her,--
"Well, Diane, what advice do you give me? Since you are better able than
I to form an opinion as to the perils which beset my path, your word
shall be my law. Ought I to think no more about Monsieur d'Exmès, or
ought I, on the other hand, to busy myself with him exclusively?"
She replied in an agony of terror at his last words, "I have no other
counsel to offer your Majesty than that of your own conscience. If any
other than a man whom you had offended, Sire, had failed to show proper
respect to you, or had basely abandoned you when in danger of your life,
you would not, I fancy, have come to ask my advice as to the fit
punishment to be meted out to the culprit. Therefore some very weighty
motive must have constrained your Majesty to adopt a policy of silence
which seems to imply forgiveness. Now I confess that I can see no reason
why you should not continue to act as you have begun; for it seems to me
that if Monsieur d'Exmès had been capable of meditating a crime against
you, he could hardly have expected two fairer opportunities than those
which were offered him in a lonely gallery in the Louvre, and in the
forest of Fontainebleau on the edge of a precipice--"
"You need say no more, Diane," said Henri; "and I will not ask you
another question. You have banished a serious anxiety from my heart, and
I thank you sincerely for it, my dear child. Let us say no more about
this. Now I shall be able to devote my thoughts freely to our
approaching marriage festivities. I desire that they shall be
magnificent, and that you shall be as magnificent as they. Diane, do you
hear?"
"I beg your Majesty to excuse me," said Diane; "but I was just about to
ask leave to absent myself from these festivities. I should much prefer,
if I must confess it, to remain here by myself."
"What!" exclaimed the king; "but do you know, Diane, that this will be
truly a royal display? There will be games and tournaments, all on the
most splendid scale, and I myself shall be one of those who hold the
lists against all comers. What pressing affairs can you have to keep you
away from such superb spectacles, my darling daughter?"
"Sire," replied Diane, in a tone of the utmost gravity, "I have to
pray."
A few minutes later the king quitted Madame de Castro, with his heart
relieved of part of its anguish.
But alas! he left poor Diane with so much the more anguish at her heart.