WELL-GUARDED SLUMBER
Catherine de Médicis remained at her post for some time, although none
but Mary Stuart and the cardinal were left in the king's chamber; but
she neither saw nor heard anything of interest. The queen administered
the sleeping-draught to François, who seemed, as Ambroise Paré had
promised, to fall at once into a more peaceful slumber. Then everything
was still. The cardinal, seated in his chair, was deep in thought; while
Mary, on her knees, was pouring out her very soul in prayer.
The queen-mother softly withdrew to her own room to imitate the
cardinal's reflective mood.
If she had remained a few moments longer, however, she would have
witnessed a scene quite worthy of herself.
Mary Stuart, rising from her knees, said to the cardinal,--
"There is no reason why you should stay to watch with me, dear uncle;
for I intend to remain here till the king awakes. Dayelle, the
physicians, and the servants in attendance will be quite sufficient for
any emergency that can arise; so that you may go and take a little rest.
I will send to you if it is necessary."
"No," said the cardinal; "the Duc de Guise, who has been delayed by a
number of pressing matters, told me that before he retired he would come
to learn the latest news of the king, and I promised to await him here.
Hark! do I not hear his step now?"
"Oh, don't let him make any noise!" cried Mary, rushing to the door to
warn Le Balafré.
The Duc de Guise entered, pale and excited. He saluted the queen, but in
his preoccupation did not think to ask for the king's welfare; he went
straight to his brother, and led him aside to a window-recess.
"Terrible news!" he began,--"a veritable thunder-stroke!"
"In Heaven's name, what is it?" asked the cardinal.
"The Constable de Montmorency has left Chantilly with fifteen hundred
gentlemen," said the Duc de Guise. "The better to conceal his movements,
he made a detour around Paris, and came from Ecouen and Corbeil to
Pithiviers by the valley of Essonne. He will be at the gates of Orléans
with his troop to-morrow; and I have just received warning of his
coming."
"That is indeed terrible!" said the cardinal. "The old villain wishes to
save his nephew's head. I will warrant that it was the queen-mother who
notified him. Oh, this feeling of utter helplessness against that
woman!"
"This is no time to proceed against her, but to bestir ourselves in our
own interests," said Le Balafré. "What shall we do?"
"Go at once with our forces to meet the constable," replied Charles de
Lorraine.
"Will you guarantee to hold Orléans when I am no longer here with my
troops?"
"Alas! no,--indeed, I cannot," replied the cardinal. "All the Orléans
people are disaffected,--Huguenots and Bourbons at heart. But in any
event the States-General are on our side."
"And L'Hôpital against us, remember, my brother. Ah, it is a hard
position? How does the king?" the duke asked finally, danger reminding
him of his last resource.
"The king is in bad condition," was the cardinal's reply; "but Ambroise
Paré, who has come to Orléans at the queen's request (I will explain
this to you later), still hopes to save the king by a hazardous but
necessary operation to-morrow morning, which may have happy results. Do
not fail to be here at nine o'clock, brother, to sustain Ambroise, if
need be."
"Surely I will be here," rejoined Le Balafré, "for that is our only
hope. Our authority would die with François's last breath; but on the
other hand, it would be a fine thing to frighten the constable, and
perhaps make him retrace his steps, by sending him, by way of a welcome,
the head of his handsome nephew, De Condé."
"Yes, that would be a very eloquent greeting, in my opinion," said the
cardinal, reflectively.
"But this infernal L'Hôpital impedes everything!" exclaimed Le
Balafré.
"If we had the king's signature upon the decree for the prince's death,
instead of L'Hôpital's," suggested Charles de Lorraine, "there would be
no further difficulty, brother,--am I not right?--about this execution
taking place to-morrow morning before Montmorency's arrival, and before
Master Paré's operation."
"That would not be strictly legal; but it would be possible," replied Le
Balafré.
"Very well, then!" cried Charles de Lorraine, eagerly. "Leave me here,
my brother; there is nothing more for you to do to-night, and you must
need rest, for two o'clock will soon strike. You must husband your
strength for to-morrow. Retire, and leave me here. I mean to make a
desperate effort myself to retrieve our fortunes."
"What is it to be?" the duke asked. "Pray, take no definite step without
first consulting me, brother."
"Never fear! If I have what I want, I will wake you before daybreak to
perfect our plans."
"Very well," said Le Balafré; "with this assurance I will retire, for
it is true that I am exhausted. But be cautious!"
He said a few consoling words to Mary Stuart, and left the room with as
little noise as possible.
Meanwhile the cardinal had seated himself at a table, and was making a
copy of the decree of the commission, of which he had the original
before him.
That done, he rose and walked toward the king's bed. But Mary Stuart
stood erect in front of him, and stopped him with a gesture.
"Where are you going?" said she, in a low tone, but firmly, and with
signs of growing anger.
"Madame," replied the cardinal, "it is important, indispensable, that
the king should sign this paper."
"What is most important, and most indispensable, is that the king should
rest quietly," said Mary.
"Let me have his name at the bottom of this writing, Madame, and I will
importune you no more."
"But you will awake him," retorted the queen; "and I do not choose that
you shall. Besides, he is not capable of holding a pen at this moment."
"I will hold it for him," said the cardinal.
"I have told you that I will not have it!" replied Mary Stuart,
authoritatively.
The cardinal stopped a moment, amazed at this obstacle, which he had
never dreamed of.
Then he continued in his most insinuating tones,--
"Listen to me, Madame,--my dear niece, listen to me; I will tell you
what is at stake. You understand very well that I would respect the
king's repose if I were not constrained by the most urgent necessity. It
is our fortune and yours, our welfare and yours, which are at stake.
Understand me. This paper must be signed before daybreak, or we are
lost!--lost, I tell you."
"That does not concern me," said Mary, calmly.
"Indeed it does! Once more I tell you, our ruin is your ruin, child that
you are!"
"Even so, what does it matter to me?" the queen replied. "Do you suppose
I concern myself with your ambition? My ambition is to save my beloved,
to preserve his life if I can, and meanwhile to guard his priceless
repose. Master Paré constituted me the guardian of the king's slumber.
I forbid you to disturb it, Monsieur! Understand me! I forbid you! If
the king dies, my royalty dies too!--it is all one to me! But as long as
one breath remains in his body, I will defend it against the hateful
demands of your intrigues. I have contributed more than I ought, my
uncle, to the strengthening of your power and influence when my
François was still well and strong; but I take your power from your
hands again as soon as I have to concern myself with forcing respect to
be shown to what may be the last hours of peace on earth that God will
vouchsafe this poor life. The king, Master Paré said, would need
to-morrow all of the little strength he has left. No one on earth, on
any pretext whatsoever, shall deprive him of one moment of this
refreshing slumber."
"But when the motive is such an important and urgent one?" said the
cardinal.
"Upon no pretext whatever shall any one on earth awaken the king,"
repeated Mary, firmly.
"Ah, but it must be done!" retorted the cardinal, ashamed at last of
having been so long delayed by the unaided resistance of a mere child,
and she his niece. "The interests of State, Madame, are not consistent
with these sentimental considerations. The king's signature is essential
to me at once; and I will have it."
"You shall not have it, Monsieur le Cardinal," replied Mary.
The cardinal took a step toward the king's bedside, but again Mary
Stuart faced him and barred his passage.
The queen and the minister looked in each other's eyes for an instant,
each as excited and angry as the other.
"I will pass," said Charles de Lorraine, in a quick, short voice.
"Do you dare to lay your hand upon me, Monsieur?"
"My niece!"
"Your niece no longer, but your queen!"
These words were uttered in so firm, and withal dignified and queenly a
tone, that the astonished cardinal recoiled.
"Yes, your queen," Mary continued; "and if you approach one step nearer,
or make another motion, as if to make your way to the king, I will go to
that door; I will call those who are on guard there; and though you be
my uncle, though you be minister and cardinal, I, your queen, will order
your arrest upon the spot, as guilty of _lèse-majesté_."
"Such a scandal!" muttered the cardinal, in affright.
"Which of us is responsible for it, Monsieur?"
The sparkling eye, the inflated nostrils, the heaving bosom of the young
queen, and her whole determined bearing were a sufficient guarantee that
she would carry out her threat.
And then, too, she was so lovely and so haughty, and withal so touching,
that even the priest, with his heart of bronze, felt moved and beaten.
The man yielded to the child; and the affairs of State obeyed the cry of
natural affection.
"Well!" said the cardinal, drawing a long breath, "I will wait, then,
until the king awakes."
"Thanks!" said Mary, resuming the gentle and melancholy demeanor which
had become customary to her since the king's illness.
"But as soon as he awakes--" continued Charles.
"If he is then in condition to hear what you have to say, and do what
you wish, I will interpose no further obstacle."
The cardinal was perforce contented with this promise. He returned to
his seat at the table, and Mary to her _prie-Dieu_,--he waiting, and she
hoping.
The slow hours of that night of watching dragged themselves along, and
François II. did not awake. The promise of Ambroise Paré was not a
vain one: not for many nights had the king known such long and peaceful
slumber.
From time to time he made a slight movement or uttered a feeble moan;
sometimes he pronounced a word or a name, generally Mary's. But he would
relapse at once into his deep sleep; and the cardinal, who did not once
fail to rise in haste at the least sound, would return dejectedly to his
seat.
He crumpled in his hand uneasily the useless, fatal decree, which
without the king's signature might well serve for his own death-warrant.
He watched the torches gradually burn out or grow pale, as the cold
December dawn whitened the windows.
At last, as eight o'clock struck, the king moved, then opened his eyes,
and called, "Mary! are you there, Mary?"
"Always at your side," replied the queen.
Charles de Lorraine rushed forward with the paper in his hand. Perhaps
there was time even yet; a scaffold is soon erected.
But at that instant Catherine de Médicis re-entered the royal
apartments by the door leading to her own.
"Too late!" muttered the cardinal. "Ah, fortune turns her back upon us!
Now, if Ambroise does not save the king's life, we are lost indeed!"