CONFIDENCES.
The first thing the Duc d'Anjou heard on arriving at the Louvre was that
the formal reception of the ambassadors was arranged for the fifth day
from that. The tailors and the jewellers were waiting for the prince
with magnificent clothes and superb jewels which the King had ordered
for him.
While the duke tried them on with an anger which brought the tears to
his eyes, Henry of Navarre was very gay in a magnificent collar of
emeralds, a sword with a gold handle, and a precious ring which Charles
had sent him that morning.
D'Alençon had just received a letter and had shut himself up in his own
room to read it.
As to Coconnas, he was searching every corner of the Louvre for his
friend.
In fact, as may easily be imagined, he had been somewhat surprised at
not seeing La Mole return that night, and by morning had begun to feel
some anxiety.
Consequently he had started out to find his friend. He began his search
at the Hôtel de la Belle Étoile, went from there to the Rue Cloche
Percée, from the Rue Cloche Percée to the Rue Tizon, from there to the
Pont Saint Michel, and finally from the Pont Saint Michel to the Louvre.
This search, so far as those who had been questioned were concerned, had
been carried on in a way so original and exacting (which may easily be
believed when one realizes the eccentric character of Coconnas) that it
had caused some explanations between him and three courtiers. These
explanations had ended, as was the fashion of the times, on the ground.
In these encounters Coconnas had been as conscientious as he usually was
in affairs of that kind, and had killed the first man and wounded the
two others, saying:
"Poor La Mole, he knew Latin so well!"
The last victim, who was the Baron de Boissey, said as he fell:
"Oh, for the love of Heaven, Coconnas, do vary a little and at least say
that he knew Greek!"
At last the report of the adventure in the corridor leaked out. Coconnas
was heartbroken over it; for an instant he thought that all these kings
and princes had killed his friend and thrown him into some dungeon.
He learned that D'Alençon had been of the party; and overlooking the
majesty which surrounded a prince of the blood, he went to him and
demanded an explanation as he would have done of a simple gentleman.
At first D'Alençon was inclined to thrust out of the door the
impertinent fellow who came and asked for an account of his actions. But
Coconnas spoke so curtly, his eyes flashed with such brightness, and the
affair of the three duels in less than twenty-four hours had raised the
Piedmontese so high, that D'Alençon reflected, and instead of yielding
to his first inclination, he answered the gentleman with a charming
smile:
"My dear Coconnas, it is true that the King was furious at receiving a
silver bowl on his shoulder, that the Duc d'Anjou was vexed at being hit
on the head by some orange marmalade, and the Duc de Guise humiliated at
having the breath knocked out of him by a haunch of venison, and so they
were all determined to kill Monsieur de la Mole. But a friend of your
friend's turned aside the blow. The party therefore failed in their
attempt. I give you my word as prince."
"Ah!" said Coconnas, breathing as hard as a pair of bellows. "By Heaven,
monseigneur, this is good news, and I should like to know this friend to
show him my gratitude."
Monsieur d'Alençon made no reply, but smiled more pleasantly than he had
yet done, implying to Coconnas that this friend was none other than the
prince himself.
"Well, monseigneur!" said Coconnas, "since you have gone so far as to
tell me the beginning of the story, crown your kindness by finishing it.
They tried to kill him, but failed, you say. Well, what happened then? I
am brave and can bear the news. Have they thrown him into some dungeon?
So much the better. It will make him more careful in future. He never
would listen to my advice; besides, we can get him out, by Heaven! Stone
does not baffle every one."
D'Alençon shook his head.
"The worst of all this, my brave Coconnas," said he, "is that your
friend disappeared after the affair, and no one knows where he went."
"By Heaven!" cried the Piedmontese, again growing pale, "had he gone to
hell I should at least have known where he is."
"Listen," said D'Alençon, who, although for different reasons, was as
anxious as Coconnas to know La Mole's whereabouts, "I will give you the
advice of a friend."
"Give it, my lord," said Coconnas, eagerly.
"Go to Queen Marguerite. She must know what has become of the friend you
mourn."
"I will confess to your highness," said Coconnas, "that I had thought of
going to her, but I scarcely dared. Madame Marguerite has a way of
making me feel somewhat uncomfortable at times, and besides this, I
feared that I might find her in tears. But since your highness assures
me that La Mole is not dead and that her majesty knows where he is I
will take heart and go to her."
"Do so, my friend," said François. "And when you find out where La Mole
is, let me know, for really I am as anxious as you are. But remember one
thing, Coconnas"--
"What?"
"Do not say you have come at my suggestion, for if you do you will learn
nothing."
"Monseigneur," said Coconnas, "since your highness recommends secrecy on
this point, I shall be as silent as a tench or as the queen mother."
"What a kind, good, generous prince he is!" murmured Coconnas as he set
out to find the Queen of Navarre.
Marguerite was expecting Coconnas, for the report of his despair had
reached her, and on hearing by what exploits his grief had showed itself
she almost forgave him for his somewhat rude treatment of her friend
Madame la Duchesse de Nevers, to whom he had not spoken for two or
three days, owing to some misunderstanding between them. Therefore as
soon as he was announced to the queen he was admitted.
Coconnas entered the room, unable to overcome the constraint which he
had mentioned to D'Alençon, and which he had always felt in the presence
of the queen. It was caused more by her superior intellect than by her
rank. But Marguerite received him with a smile which at once put him at
his ease.
"Ah, madame," said he, "give me back my friend, I beg you, or at least
tell me what has become of him, for without him I cannot live. Imagine
Euryalus without Nisus, Damon without Pythias, or Orestes without
Pylades, and pity my grief for the sake of one of the heroes I have just
mentioned, whose heart, I swear, was no more tender than mine."
Marguerite smiled, and having made Coconnas promise not to reveal the
secret, she told him of La Mole's escape from the window. As to his
hiding-place, insistent as were the prayers of the Piedmontese, she
preserved the strictest silence. This only half satisfied Coconnas, so
he resorted to diplomatic speeches of the highest order.
The result was that Marguerite saw clearly that the Duc d'Alençon was
partly the cause of the courtier's great desire to know what had become
of La Mole.
"Well," said the queen, "if you must know something definite about your
friend, ask King Henry of Navarre. He alone has the right to speak. As
to me, all I can tell you is that the friend for whom you are searching
is alive, and you may believe what I say."
"I believe one thing still more, madame," replied Coconnas; "that is,
that your beautiful eyes have not wept."
Thereupon, thinking that there was nothing to add to a remark which had
the double advantage of expressing his thought as well as the high
opinion he had of La Mole, Coconnas withdrew, pondering on a
reconciliation with Madame de Nevers, not on her account, but in order
that he might find out from her what he had been unable to learn from
Marguerite.
Deep griefs are abnormal conditions in which the mind shakes off the
yoke as soon as possible. The thought of leaving Marguerite had at first
broken La Mole's heart, and it was in order to save the reputation of
the queen rather than to preserve his own life that he had consented to
run away.
Therefore, the following evening he returned to Paris to see Marguerite
from her balcony. As if instinct told her of the young man's plan, the
queen spent the whole evening at her window. The result was that the
lovers met again with the indescribable delight which accompanies
forbidden pleasures. More than this, the melancholy and romantic
temperament of La Mole found a certain charm in the situation. But a man
really in love is happy only for the time being, while he sees or is
with the woman he loves. After he has left her he suffers. Anxious to
see Marguerite again, La Mole set himself busily to work to bring about
the event which would make it possible for him to be with her; namely,
the flight of the King of Navarre.
Marguerite on her part willingly gave herself up to the happiness of
being loved with so pure a devotion. Often she was angry with herself
for what she regarded as a weakness. Her strong mind despised the
poverty of ordinary love, insensible to the details which for tender
souls make it the sweetest, the most delicate, and the most desirable of
all pleasures. So she felt that the days, if not happily filled, were at
least happily ended. When, at about nine o'clock every evening, she
stepped out on her balcony in a white dressing-gown, she perceived in
the darkness of the quay a horseman whose hand was raised first to his
lips, then to his heart. Then a significant cough reminded the lover of
a cherished voice. Sometimes a note was thrown by a little hand, and in
the note was hidden some costly jewel, precious not on account of its
value, but because it had belonged to her who threw it; and this would
fall on the pavement a few feet from the young man. Then La Mole would
swoop down on it like a kite, press it to his heart, answer in the same
voice, while Marguerite stood at her balcony until the sound of the
horse's hoofs had died away in the darkness. The steed, ridden at full
speed when coming, on leaving seemed as if made of material as lifeless
as that of the famous horse which lost Troy.
This was why the queen was not anxious as to the fate of La Mole. But
fearing that he might be watched and followed she persistently refused
all interviews except these clandestine ones, which began immediately
after La Mole's flight and continued every evening until the time set
for the formal reception of the ambassadors, a reception which by the
express orders of Ambroise Paré, as we have seen, was postponed for
several days.
The evening before this reception, at about nine o'clock, when every one
in the Louvre was engaged in preparations for the following day,
Marguerite opened her window and stepped out upon her balcony. As she
did so, without waiting for her note, La Mole, in greater haste than
usual, threw his note which with his usual skill fell at the feet of his
royal mistress.
Marguerite realized that the missive contained something special, and
retired from the balcony to read it. The note consisted of two separate
sheets.
On the first page were these words:
"_Madame, I must speak to the King of Navarre. The matter is urgent. I
will wait._"
On the second page were these words:
"_My lady and my queen, arrange so that I may give you one of the
kisses I now send you. I will wait._"
Marguerite had scarcely finished the second part of the letter when she
heard the voice of Henry of Navarre, who with his usual caution had
knocked on the outer door, and was asking Gillonne if he might enter.
The queen at once separated the letter, put one of the sheets in her
robe, the other in her pocket, hurriedly closed the window, and stepped
to the door.
"Enter, sire," said she.
Notwithstanding the fact that Marguerite had been careful to close the
window quickly and gently, the sound had reached Henry, whose acute
senses, in the midst of people he greatly mistrusted, had almost
acquired the exquisite delicacy they attain in the savage. But the King
of Navarre was not one of those tyrants who forbid their wives from
taking the air and watching the stars.
Henry was as gracious and smiling as ever.
"Madame," said he, "while every one is rehearsing the coming ceremonial,
I thought I would come and have a little talk with you about my affairs,
which you still regard as yours, do you not?"
"Certainly, monsieur," replied Marguerite; "are not our interests one
and the same?"
"Yes, madame, and that is why I wanted to ask what you thought about
Monsieur le Duc d'Alençon's avoiding me so for the last few days. The
day before yesterday he even went to Saint Germain. Does it not mean
either that he is planning to leave by himself, for he is watched very
little, or that he is not going to leave at all? Give me your opinion,
madame, if you please. I confess it will be a great relief to me to tell
you mine."
"Your majesty is right in being anxious at my brother's silence. I have
been thinking about it all day, and my idea is that as circumstances
have changed he has changed with them."
"You mean, do you not, that seeing King Charles ill and the Duc d'Anjou
King of Poland he would not be averse to staying in Paris to keep watch
over the crown of France?"
"Exactly."
"Be it so. I ask nothing better than for him to remain," said Henry;
"only that will change our entire plan. To leave without him I shall
need three times the guarantees I should have asked for had I gone with
your brother, whose name and presence in the enterprise would have been
my safeguard. But what surprises me is that I have not heard from
Monsieur de Mouy. It is not like him to stay away so long. Have you had
any news of him, madame?"
"I, sire!" exclaimed Marguerite, in astonishment; "why, how could you
expect"--
"Why, by Heaven, my dear, nothing would be more natural. In order to
please me, you were kind enough to save the life of young La Mole,--he
must have reached Nantes,--and if one can get to a place he can easily
get away from it."
"Ah! this explains an enigma, the answer to which I could not make out,"
said Marguerite. "I had left my window open, and found, on coming back
to my room, a note on my floor."
"There now," said Henry.
"A note which at first I could not understand, and to which I attached
no importance whatsoever," continued Marguerite. "Perhaps I was wrong,
and that it comes from that quarter."
"That is possible," said Henry; "I might even say probable. Might I see
this note?"
"Certainly, sire," replied Marguerite, handing to the king the missive
she had put into her pocket. The king glanced at it.
"Is it not Monsieur de la Mole's handwriting?" said he.
"I do not know," replied Marguerite. "It looks to me like a
counterfeit."
"No matter, let us read it." And he read:
"_Madame, I must speak to the King of Navarre. The matter is urgent. I
will wait._"
"So!" said Henry--"you see, he says he will wait."
"Certainly I see that," said Marguerite. "But what would you expect?"
"Why! _ventre saint gris!_ I expect that he is waiting!"
"That he is waiting!" cried Marguerite, looking at her husband in
astonishment. "How can you say such a thing, sire? A man whom the King
tried to kill--a man who is watched, threatened--waiting, you say! Would
that be possible?--are the doors made for those who have been"--
"Obliged to escape by the window--you were going to say?"
"Yes, you have finished my sentence."
"Well, but if they know the way by the window, let them take it, since
it is perfectly impossible for them to enter by the door. It is very
simple."
"Do you think so?" said Marguerite, flushing with pleasure at the
thought of again being near La Mole.
"I am sure of it."
"But how could one reach the window?" asked the queen.
"Did you not keep the rope ladder I sent you? Where is your usual
foresight?"
"Yes, sire, I kept it," said Marguerite.
"In that case there will be no difficulty," said Henry.
"What does your majesty wish?"
"Why, it is very simple," said Henry. "Fasten it to your balcony and let
it hang down. If it is De Mouy who is waiting and he wants to mount it,
he will do so."
Without losing his gravity Henry took the candle to aid Marguerite in
her search for the ladder. They did not have to look long; it was in a
wardrobe in the famous closet.
"There it is," said Henry; "now, madame, if I am not asking too much,
fasten it to the balcony, I beg you."
"Why should I fasten it and not you, sire?" said Marguerite.
"Because the best conspirators are the most careful. Seeing a man might
perhaps frighten away our friend, you see." Marguerite smiled and tied
the ladder.
"There," said Henry, concealing himself in a corner of the room, "stand
so he can see you; now drop the ladder; good! I am sure that De Mouy
will climb up."
In fact, about ten minutes later a man, mad with joy, stepped over the
balcony, but seeing that the queen did not come to him, he hesitated a
moment. Instead of Marguerite it was Henry who stepped forward.
"Ah!" said he, graciously, "it is not De Mouy, but Monsieur de la Mole.
Good evening, Monsieur de la Mole. Come in, I beg you."
La Mole paused a moment, overwhelmed. Had he still been on the ladder
instead of on the balcony he might possibly have fallen backward.
"You wanted to speak to the King of Navarre on matters of importance,"
said Marguerite. "I have told him so and here he is."
Henry closed the window.
"I love you," said Marguerite, hastily pressing the young man's hand.
"Well, monsieur," said Henry, placing a chair for La Mole, "what is it?"
"This, sire," replied La Mole. "I have left Monsieur de Mouy at the city
gates. He desires to know if Maurevel has spoken, and if his presence in
your majesty's room is known."
"Not yet, but it will be before long; so we must make haste."
"That is my opinion, sire, and if to-morrow evening Monsieur d'Alençon
is ready to start, De Mouy will be at the Porte Saint Marcel with five
hundred men. These will take you to Fontainebleau. Then you can easily
reach Blois, Angoulême, and Bordeaux."
"Madame," said Henry, turning to his wife, "I can be ready by to-morrow;
can you?"
La Mole's eyes were anxiously fixed on those of Marguerite.
"You have my promise," said the queen. "Wherever you go, I will follow.
But you know Monsieur d'Alençon must leave at the same time. No half way
with him; either he serves us or he betrays us. If he hesitates we do
not stir."
"Does he know anything of this plan, Monsieur de la Mole?" asked Henry.
"He should have received a letter from Monsieur de Mouy several days
ago."
"Why," said Henry, "he said nothing to me about it!"
"Be careful, monsieur," said Marguerite, "be careful."
"I shall be on my guard, you may be sure. How can we get an answer to De
Mouy?"
"Do not worry, sire. On the right, on the left, of your majesty, visible
or invisible, he will be on hand to-morrow during the reception of the
ambassadors. One word in the address of the queen will suffice for him
to understand whether you consent or not, whether he must leave or wait
for you. If the Duc d'Alençon refuses, he asks but a fortnight to
reorganize everything in your name."
"Really," said Henry, "De Mouy is invaluable. Can you insert the
necessary words in your address, madame?"
"Nothing will be easier," replied Marguerite.
"Then I will see Monsieur d'Alençon to-morrow," said Henry. "Let de Mouy
be at his post ready to understand at a word."
"He will be there, sire."
"And, Monsieur de la Mole," said Henry, "take my answer to him. You
probably have a horse or a servant near by?"
"Orthon is waiting for me at the quay."
"Go back to him, monsieur. Oh, no, not by the window, which is good only
for an emergency. You might be seen, and as it would not be known that
you had taken this risk for me, it might compromise the queen."
"How shall I leave, sire?"
"Although you may not be able to enter the Louvre by yourself, you can
at least leave it with me, for I have the password. You have your cloak,
I have mine; we will put them on and can pass the gate without
difficulty. Besides, I shall be glad to give some special orders to
Orthon. Wait here while I go and see if there is any one in the
corridor."
With the most natural air possible Henry went out to investigate. La
Mole was left alone with the queen.
"Ah! when shall I see you again?" said he.
"To-morrow evening, if we leave. Otherwise some evening soon in the Rue
Cloche Percée."
"Monsieur de la Mole," said Henry, returning, "you can come; there is no
one here."
La Mole bowed respectfully to the queen.
"Give him your hand to kiss, madame," said Henry; "Monsieur de la Mole
is no ordinary servitor."
Marguerite obeyed.
"By the way," said Henry, "be sure and keep the rope ladder. It is a
valuable instrument for conspirators; and when we least expect it we may
need it. Come, Monsieur de la Mole."