DIANE DE POITIERS
The Constable de Montmorency was still with Diane de Poitiers, and was
addressing her in a loud voice, as rough and imperious with her as she
had shown herself sweet and gentle with him.
"Well, after all, she is your daughter, isn't she?" he was saying; "and
you have the same rights and the same authority over her as the king
has. Demand that this marriage take place!"
"But you must remember, my good friend, that having hitherto shown her
very little of a mother's affection I can hardly hope to exert a
mother's authority over her, and to chastise where I have never
caressed. We are, as you know, Madame d'Angoulême and myself, on very
cool terms with each other; and in spite of her advances at first, we
have only met at very long intervals. Besides, she has succeeded in
gaining a very great personal influence over the king's mind; and in
truth, I should find it hard to say which of us two is the more powerful
at this moment. What you ask me to do, my friend, is very difficult, not
to say impossible. Lay aside all thought of this marriage, and let us
replace it by a still more brilliant alliance. The king has betrothed
his little Jeanne to Charles de Mayenne; we will induce him to bestow
little Marguerite's hand on your son."
"My son sleeps in a bed and not in a cradle," replied the constable;
"and how, I should like to know, could a young girl, just learning to
talk, add to the fortunes of my family? Madame de Castro, on the other
hand, has, as you have just reminded me most opportunely, a vast
personal influence over the king; and that is why I wish her for my
daughter-in-law. _Mon Dieu_! it is a most extraordinary thing that when
a gentleman who bears the name of the foremost noble in Christendom
stoops to wed a bastard, he should meet with so many obstructions in
carrying out the _mésalliance_. Madame, you are no more the king's
favorite for nothing than I am your lover for nothing. In spite of
Madame de Castro, in spite of this fop who adores her, in spite of the
king himself, I insist that this marriage shall take place,--I insist
upon it."
"Oh, very well, my friend," replied Diane de Poitiers, meekly, "I agree
to do the possible and impossible to help you to attain your ends. What
more do you want me to say? But at least tell me that you will be kinder
to me, and will not rage and storm at me so, cruel one!"
And with her lovely red lips the beautiful duchess lightly touched old
Anne's rough grizzled beard, while he grumblingly submitted to the
caress.
For such was this singular passion, inexplicable except on the theory of
extraordinary depravity, which was nourished by the idolized favorite of
a handsome young monarch for an old graybeard who abused her.
Montmorency's rough brutality made amends to her for Henri's
love-making; and she took more delight in being ill-treated by the one
than in being petted and caressed by the other. Prodigious caprice of
the feminine heart! Anne de Montmorency was neither clever nor
brilliant; and he was, on very good grounds, reputed to be covetous and
stingy. The inhuman punishments he had inflicted upon the rebellious
population of Bordeaux had of themselves attached a sort of hateful
notoriety to his name. He was brave, it is true; but that quality is
common in France, and he had up to this time hardly ever been fortunate
in the battles in which he had taken part. At the victories of Ravenna
and Marignan, where he had held no command, he had not made himself
conspicuous above the common herd; at Bicocque, where he was colonel of
the Swiss Guards, he had let his regiment be almost cut to pieces; and
at Pavia he was taken prisoner. His military celebrity had not since
been increased, and St. Laurent had made a pitiable ending to it.
Without the favor of Henri II., inspired, no doubt, by Diane de
Poitiers, he would not have risen above the second place in the king's
council any more than in the army; and yet Diane loved him, coddled him,
and obeyed him in everything, being at once the favorite of a manly,
handsome young monarch and the slave of a ridiculous old veteran.
Just at this moment there was a discreet knock at the door; and a page,
entering at Madame de Valentinois's summons, announced that Vicomte
d'Exmès earnestly begged to be allowed a very brief audience of the
duchess on a most serious matter.
"The lover himself!" cried the constable. "What can he want of you,
Diane? Can he possibly have come to ask you for your daughter's hand?"
"Shall I allow him to come in?" meekly asked the favorite.
"Of course, of course; this incident may help us. But let him wait a
moment. Just one word more between ourselves."
Diane de Poitiers gave orders accordingly to the page, who left the
room.
"If Vicomte d'Exmès comes to you, Diane," the constable went on, "it
must be because some unexpected difficulties have arisen; and it must be
a very desperate emergency to drive him to resort to so desperate a
remedy. Now, listen carefully to what I say; and if you follow my
instructions to the letter, I will answer for it that your hazardous
interference with the king in this matter will be quite unnecessary.
Diane, whatever the viscount asks at your hands, refuse it. If he asks
what path he shall take, send him in the opposite direction to that in
which he wishes to go. If he wants you to say 'yes,' say 'no;' but say
'yes' if he hopes for a negative answer. Be contemptuous with him, and
haughty and ill-tempered, the worthy daughter of the fairy Mélusine,
from whom you of the family of Poitiers are said to have descended. Do
you understand me, Diane, and will you do as I say?"
"In every respect, my dear Constable."
"Then my fine fellow's threads will be considerably tangled, I fancy.
The poor fool, thus to walk right into the jaws of the--" he started to
say "she-wolf," but caught himself--"into the jaws of the waives. I
leave him to you, Diane; and you must give me a good account of this
handsome claimant. Till this evening!"
He condescended to kiss Diane's brow, and went out. Vicomte d'Exmès was
ushered in by another door.
Gabriel saluted Diane most respectfully, while she responded with an
impertinent nod. But Gabriel, buckling on his armor for this unequal
combat of burning passion against frigid vanity, began calmly enough:--
"Madame," said he, "the step which I have ventured to take with
reference to you is a bold one, no doubt, and may seem mad. But
sometimes in one's life circumstances come to light of such serious
moment as to lift us above the ordinary conventions and every day
scruples. Now, I am involved in one of these terrible crises of my
destiny, Madame. I, who speak to you, have come to put my life in your
hands; and if you let it fall, it will be broken forever."
Madame de Valentinois made not the least sign of encouragement. With her
body bent forward, resting her chin on her hand, and her elbow on her
knee, she gazed at Gabriel with a look of wonder mingled with weariness.
"Madame," he resumed, trying to shake off the gloomy effect of this
feigned indifference, "you either know or do not know that I love Madame
de Castro. I love her, Madame, with a deep, ardent, overpowering love."
"What is that to me?" seemed to say Diane de Poitiers's careless smile.
"I speak to you of this love which fills my whole soul, Madame, to
explain my saying that I ought to understand and excuse, yes, even
admire, the blind fatalities and insatiable demands of an engrossing
passion. So far from blaming it, as the common people do, or of pulling
it to pieces like the philosophers, or of condemning it like the
priests, I kneel before it and adore it as a blessing from the Most
High. It makes the heart into which it enters purer and more noble and
divine; and did not Jesus Himself consecrate it when He said to Mary
Magdalene that she was blessed above all other women for having loved so
well?"
Diane de Poitiers changed her position, and with eyes half closed
stretched herself out carelessly on her couch.
"I wonder how much longer his sermon is going to last," she was
thinking.
"Thus you see, Madame," continued Gabriel, "that love is in my eyes a
holy thing, and more than that, it is omnipotent. If the husband of
Madame de Castro were living still, I should love her just the same, and
should not even try to overcome the irresistible impulse. It is only a
false love which can be subdued; and true love no more flees from itself
than it commands its own beginning. So, Madame, you yourself, chosen and
beloved by the greatest king in the world,--you ought not to be, on that
account, out of all danger of contracting a sincere passion; and if you
had been unable to resist it, I should pity you and envy you, but I
would not condemn you."
Still unbroken silence on the part of the Duchesse de Valentinois.
Amused astonishment was the only emotion expressed upon her face.
Gabriel went on with still more warmth, as if to melt this brazen heart
with the flames that were seething in his own.
"A king falls in love with your adorable beauty, as may well be
imagined. You are touched by his affection; but may it not be that your
heart does not respond to it, much as it would like to do so? Alas! yes.
But standing near the king, a handsome gentleman, gallant and devoted,
sees you and loves you; and this more obscure but not less powerful
passion meets a response in your heart, which has not opened to admit
the thought of a king. But are you not a queen too, a queen of beauty,
just as the king who loves you is king in power? Are you not as
independent and free as he? Is it titles which win hearts? Who could
prevent you from having for one day, for one hour even, in your kind and
loving heart, preferred the subject to the master? It is not I, at all
events, who would have so little sympathy with lofty sentiments as to
esteem it a crime in Diane de Poitiers that being beloved of Henri II.,
she had loved the Comte de Montgommery."
Diane, at this home-thrust, made a sudden movement and half rose from
her seat, opening her great bright eyes to their fullest extent. Too few
persons at court knew her secret for her not to have felt a shock at
these words of Gabriel.
"Have you any substantial proof of this love that you prate of?" she
asked, not without a shade of anxiety in her tone.
"I have nothing but moral certainty of it, Madame," replied Gabriel;
"but I have that."
"Ah!" said she, resuming her insolent pouting. "Well, then, it is all
the same to me if I confess the truth to you. Yes, I did love the Comte
de Montgommery. And what next?"
But next, Gabriel had no more positive knowledge, and could only stumble
about in the darkness of conjecture. However, he continued:--
"You loved Jacques de Montgommery, Madame, and I venture to say that you
still love his memory; for if he disappeared from the face of the earth,
it was on your account and for your sake. Very well! it is in his name
that I come to beg your indulgence, and to ask you a question which will
seem to you, I say again, very presumptuous; but I also repeat that your
reply, if you are good enough to reply, will arouse only gratitude and
worship in my heart, for upon your reply my life hangs. Again I repeat
that if you do not refuse to answer me, I will be henceforward at your
service, body and soul; and the most firmly established power in the
world may sometime be in need of a devoted heart and hand, Madame."
"Go on, Monsieur," said the duchess, "and let us get at this terrible
question."
"I ought to ask it of you on my knees, Madame," said Gabriel, suiting
the action to the word.
And then he resumed with beating heart and faltering voice,--
"Madame, it was in the course of the year 1538 that you loved the Comte
de Montgommery, was it not?"
"Possibly," said Diane; "and then?"
"It was in January, 1539, that the Comte de Montgommery disappeared, and
in May, 1539, that Madame Diane de Castro was born?"
"Well?" asked Diane.
"Well, Madame!" said Gabriel, so low that she could hardly hear him,
"there lies the secret which at your feet I implore you to divulge to
me,--the secret on which my fate depends, and which shall die with me,
believe me, if you will deign to reveal it to me. On the crucifix which
hangs above your head, I swear it, Madame; I will yield up my life
rather than your confidence. And besides, you will always be able to
prove me a liar, for your word would be believed before mine; and I ask
you for no proof, but for your word alone. Madame, Madame, was Jacques
de Montgommery the father of Diane de Castro?"
"Oho!" said Diane, with a contemptuous laugh, "that is rather a bold
question; and you were quite right to precede it with such a lengthy
preamble. But never fear, Monsieur, I bear you no ill-will for it. You
have interested me like a riddle, and now you interest me still more;
for what is it to you, pray, Monsieur d'Exmès, whether Madame
d'Angoulême be the child of the king or the count? The king is supposed
to be her father, and that should satisfy your ambition, if you are
ambitious. Why do you draw me into it; and what claim have you to thus
question me about the past to no purpose? You have a reason, no doubt;
but what is the reason?"
"I have a reason indeed, Madame," said Gabriel; "but I conjure you not
to ask it of me for mercy's sake!"
"Oh, yes," said Diane, "you want to know my secrets and to keep yours to
yourself. That would be a very advantageous thing for you, no doubt!"
Gabriel detached the ivory crucifix which surmounted the carved oak
_prie-Dieu_ behind Diane's couch.
"By your everlasting salvation, Madame," said he, "swear to keep silent
as to what I tell you, and to make no use of it to my disadvantage!"
"Such an oath as that!" said Diane.
"Yes, Madame, for I know you to be a zealous and devout Catholic: and if
you swear by your everlasting salvation, I will believe you."
"And suppose I decline to swear?"
"I shall hold my peace, Madame, and you will have refused to save my
life."
"Do you know, Monsieur," replied Diane, "that you have strangely aroused
my woman's curiosity'? Yes, the mystery with which you so tragically
surround yourself attracts me and tempts me, I confess. You have
triumphed over my imagination to that extent, I tell you frankly; and I
did not suppose that any one could so pique my curiosity. If I swear, it
is, I give you fair warning, so that I may learn more about you. From
curiosity, pure and simple, I agree to do it."
"And I too, Madame," said Gabriel, "I implore you thus, so that I may
learn more; but my curiosity is that of the criminal awaiting his
death-sentence. Bitter and fearful curiosity, as you see! Will you take
this oath, Madame?"
"Say you the words, and I will say them after you, Monsieur."
And Diane said, after Gabriel, the following words:
"By my salvation, in this life and the next, I swear to reveal to no one
on earth the secret which you are about to impart to me, and never to
make any use of it to injure you, and to act in all ways just as if I
had never known it, and never should know it."
"Very well," said Gabriel, "and I thank you for this first proof of your
condescension. Now, in two words, you shall know all: my name is Gabriel
de Montgommery, and Jacques de Montgommery was my father!"
"Your father!" cried Diane, springing to her feet in a state of
stupefied excitement.
"So that if Diane de Castro is the count's daughter," said Gabriel,
"Diane de Castro, whom I love, or whom I thought that I loved to
distraction, is my sister!"
"Ah, I see," replied Diane de Poitiers, recovering herself a bit.--"This
will be the constable's salvation," she thought to herself.
"Now, Madame," continued Gabriel, pale but firm, "are you willing to do
me the further favor of swearing, as before, upon this crucifix, that
Madame de Castro is King Henri II.'s daughter? You do not reply? Oh, why
do you not reply. Madame?"
"Because I cannot take that oath, Monsieur."
"Ah, _mon Dieu, mon Dieu_! Diane is my father's child, then?" cried
Gabriel, tottering.
"I did not say that! I will never assent to that!" cried Madame de
Valentinois; "Diane de Castro is the king's daughter."
"Oh, really, Madame? Oh, how kind you are!" said Gabriel. "But, pardon
me! Your own interest may induce you to say so. So swear it, Madame,
swear it! In the name of your child, who will bless you for it, oh,
swear it!"
"I will not swear," said the duchess. "Why should I?"
"But, Madame," said Gabriel, "this very moment you took the same oath
simply to gratify your vulgar curiosity, as you told me yourself; and
now, when a man's very life is at stake, when by saying these few words,
you might rescue two souls from the bottomless pit, you ask, 'Why should
I say these words?'"
"But I will not swear, Monsieur," said Diane, coldly and decidedly.
"And if I should marry Madame de Castro notwithstanding, Madame, and if
Madame de Castro is my sister, don't you think that the crime will
rebound upon you?"
"No," replied Diane, "not when I have not taken my oath to it."
"Oh, horrible! horrible!" cried Gabriel. "But consider, Madame, that I
can tell everywhere that you loved the Comte de Montgommery, and were
false to the king, and that I, the count's son, am certain of it."
"Mere moral certainty, without proofs," said Diane, with a wicked smile,
having resumed her air of impertinent and haughty indifference. "I will
say that you lie, Monsieur; and you told me yourself that when you
affirm and I deny, you will not be the one to be believed. Consider,
too, that I can say to the king that you have presumed to make love to
me, threatening to circulate slanders about me if I didn't yield to
you. And then you will be lost, Monsieur Gabriel de Montgommery. But
pardon me," said she, rising; "I must leave you, Monsieur. You have
really entertained me exceedingly, and your story is a very singular
one."
She struck a bell, to summon a servant.
"Oh, this is infamous!" cried Gabriel, beating his brow with his
clinched fists. "Oh, why are you a woman, or why am I a man? But,
nevertheless, take care, Madame! for you shall not play with my heart
and my life with impunity; and God will punish you, and avenge me for
what you have done,--for this infamy, I say it again!"
"Do you think so?" said Diane. And she accompanied her words with a dry,
mocking little laugh which was peculiar to her.
At this moment, the page whom she had called raised the tapestry
curtain. She gave Gabriel a mocking salute and left the room.
"Well, well!" said she to herself, "my good constable is decidedly in
luck. Dame Fortune is like me,--she loves him. Why the devil do we love
him?"
Gabriel followed her out, mad with rage and grief.