THE TABLETS OF DOM ANTOINE DE MOUCHY
A quick glance around showed me I was alone. Turning back to the
window I swung the free end of the rope to La Marmotte. She caught it,
drew it in, and closed the window over it as far as it would go.
Through the slight opening I saw for an instant the glow of the candle.
Then the rope tightened, and the light went out. I crept softly to a
door on my right, and standing there listened intently. All was
silence. I tried the door; it opened, and I saw before me De Mouchy's
study. His table, littered with papers, was almost in the centre of
the room. Near the window was a large carved chest. The walls were
lined with books, and three or four bookcases, filled with dust-laden
volumes, projected at right angles from them. In truth, it seemed as
if Dom Antoine owned a library that might rival that of the Abbey of
St. Victor.
I made up my mind to go a step farther than La Marmotte's suggestion,
and as the chances of discovery were equal whether I remained in the
outer room or here I decided to stay where I was. Between the wall and
one of the projecting bookshelves there was space sufficient for a man
to stand perfectly concealed, unless anyone chose to come round the
bookcase. Here, then, I took up my position, trusting much to luck, as
one has to do in a desperate enterprise, and relying on the chance that
De Mouchy would never suspect that anyone would dare to act as I was
doing in broad daylight, for it was not much beyond five o'clock in the
afternoon.
I had not long to wait. Presently I heard a scratching at a door
opposite to that by which I had entered the room. There was a murmured
word or so, then the door opened, and Dom Antoine de Mouchy stepped in,
bearing in his arms an immense black cat. Where the afternoon sunlight
shone warmly on the carved chest he placed the beast, stroking its back
once or twice, and then turned, and stood for a moment facing his table.
As he stood there, in the black robes and skull-cap of a doctor of the
Sorbonne, I took careful stock of him, for it was he who, years past,
had doomed me to a frightful death, and who had shared with Simon and
Diane de Poitiers the remains of my property. He was past middle life,
with a frame yet strong and vigorous. Cruelty and avarice had set
their seals on his broad face. His cheek-bones were high as those of a
Tartar, and the small and sunken eyes had a restless, savage look in
them--the look of a tiger; and no tiger ever thirsted for blood more
ferociously than Dom Antoine de Mouchy, Doctor of the Sorbonne, and
President of the Chambre Ardente, thirsted for the blood of his
fellow-creatures.
Twice he glanced around him, and then sitting at his table was soon
busily employed in jotting down something on his tablets. After a
while he stopped, and some thought moved him to silent laughter.
Leaning back he let his glance travel round the room, and then arrested
it once more on his tablets.
"Ha, ha!" he laughed out loudly this time, "this is a rare dish of
fried fish! Prick up your ears, Titi!" And reaching out a long arm he
stroked the fur of the huge cat that sat crouched on the coffer, an
occasional shiver running through its body. It was old, very old, as I
could see.
At De Mouchy's voice and the touch of his hand the creature rose
slowly, turned upon Dom Antoine a pair of green eyes from which the
sight had long since fled, and hissed like an angry snake. De Mouchy
laughed again as he went on:
"You agree--eh? Well, listen to the
names--Huguenots--Christaudins--Spawn of Geneva--whose bodies shall
perish as their souls, and whose goods shall come to the
righteous--that is, to me, Titi."
For a moment light seemed to come back to those sightless eyes, and
with a purr, as if it understood, the great cat leaped lightly on to
the table and sat before De Mouchy, whilst the latter put one finger on
the tablets, and spoke again:
"_Mon vieux_! the poor fisherman has netted some fine gold-fish this
time. No little sprats of tailors of the Rue St. Antoine or
out-at-heel scholars--but fine, fat, golden carp. The pity of it,
Titi, that the great ones of the land will take toll of this
haul--tithe and fee; but there will be something left for you and for
me--you understand?"
The cat snarled, as though it had followed every word, and De Mouchy
went on, carrying out his terrible humour:
"Good! You cannot speak nor see but you can hear, and so listen!
First--the Church first always, Titi--comes Odet de Coligny, Cardinal
de Châtillon, Bishop of Beauvais--a traitor--a wolf who has stolen into
the fold of Christ--with a hundred thousand livres a year of income!"
He paused, and looked at the cat, with a snarl on his lips as evil as
that on those of his familiar.
"Secondly, the High Nobility--Gaspard de Coligny, High Admiral of
France, the tallest poppy in the garden of heresy, Titi.
"Thirdly, the Law--in the person of Maître Anne du Bourg, an unjust
judge; but you and I will change his judgment seat for a felon's dock,
and give him a garment of red flames for his red robes of office."
The cat mewed as De Mouchy went on: "There are many more, my friend,
and one in special, against whom we dare not move as yet, for he bears
the lilies of France on his shield. But let us on to the sweets, for
we have dined well, and need a toothsome morsel. If you could see,
_mon vieux_, and had set eyes on her, I should have my doubts of you
also, for she is as the fairy light that draws the unwary into the Pit
of Death. Can you guess? No! Then I will tell you. What think you
of the Demoiselle de Paradis? Yes! Hiss, hiss! _Sus, sus_! On to
the heretics, _mon brave_!"
And as the cat rose on its tottering limbs, arched its back, and
snarled, the man leaned back snarling also, for the blood madness was
on him, and he was alone, and had let himself go utterly.
At this moment this strange scene was interrupted by a sharp, imperious
knock at the door, and as De Mouchy, with a start, swung round his
chair and rose to his feet the door was pushed open without further
ceremony, and he saw before him the beautiful but pitiless face of
Diane de Poitiers, and behind her stood Simon of Orrain.
As De Mouchy stepped forward to meet his visitors with a cringing air,
the cat, less of a hypocrite than its master, retreated to the far end
of the table, and began to hiss like a boiling kettle.
"I did not expect you yet, madame," began De Mouchy; but Diane de
Poitiers broke in upon his speech:
"It does not matter; let us to business. But away with that hideous
cat first!" And she pointed with her fan at Titi, who stood glaring at
her with his sightless eyes.
"He is a good adviser, madame," grinned De Mouchy; but she stamped her
foot.
"It looks like a devil. Away with it! else I shall ask Orrain to fling
it through the window."
Simon smiled grimly, and stretched out a long, thin arm; but with a
sullen look on his face De Mouchy lifted his pet in his arms, and,
opening the door of the adjoining room, thrust it therein, shutting the
door upon it. It was, indeed, a lucky change of plan I had made. Had
I been behind that door discovery was certain.
The Duchess had seated herself in De Mouchy's chair, and coolly lifting
up the tablets ran her eyes over them. Simon flung himself upon the
coffer, his sword between his knees, and began gnawing at his long
moustache, whilst De Mouchy stood between the two, his deep-set eyes
shifting from one to the other.
Suddenly Diane's red lips curved into a smile.
"_Eh bien_, De Mouchy! But you are building fine castles in Spain
here! See this, Orrain; he thinks to net Châtillon, the Admiral, and
the First Prince of the Blood!" And she broke into merry laughter.
"And why not, madame?" scowled De Mouchy.
Diane de Poitiers checked her laugh. "For the simple reason that the
house of Châtillon has become wise over D'Andelot's affair, and will
not set foot in Paris. As for Vendôme, he must be dealt with
differently." And her dark eyes flashed ominously.
"Put the tablets aside for the present," Simon cut in, "and let us not
argue. We each form an angle of a triangle, and the triangle will be
nothing at all if one of the angles is taken away. Let us discuss
measures; we will take the names after. How did my proposal go at the
council to-day?"
"Approved," said De Mouchy. "And the Chambre Ardente can act whenever
the said court thinks fit."
"That is, when you, as president, think fit?"
"Precisely, Monsieur le Vidame."
"This, however, is not enough," Simon went on. "Another little
suggestion of mine, the suspension of the edicts, made, possibly, by
madame's merciful intercession with the King, has borne good fruit, and
Paris is full of heretics. But I presume that it is neither their
bodies nor their souls that we desire." And he looked at his two
companions.
De Mouchy preserved a scowling silence, but with a flush on her face
the Duchess said:
"I do not follow you, monsieur. We are good Christians, and we work
for Holy Church."
Simon leaned back, his knee between his clasped hands, and laughed a
bitter, mocking laugh.
"Eternal Blue! For Holy Church! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! Madame,
those sweet lips of yours drop pearls of wisdom." And he rocked to and
fro.
Deeper grew the crimson on the Duchess' cheek, and she opened and shut
her fan with an angry snap. She tried to say something; but her words
died away in a stammer, and her eyes drooped before Simon's cold and
mocking look.
"Come," said he, the master-vampire, "let us leave this talk of Holy
Church for the salons and the council. We three know what we want, and
to get it we need a grant from the King, giving in equal shares all the
properties and goods of condemned heretics in Paris, which by law are
escheat to the Crown, to madame here, the crescent moon of France; to
you, most righteous judge; and to me, Simon, Vidame d'Orrain. This
done, we can begin to play."
"Excellent!" And De Mouchy rubbed his hands together. "I will light a
fire on every square and on the parvis of every church in Paris, and
the smell of the burning will be as incense to the holy saints."
Diane, however, remained silent, her face still flushed, and a
rebellious light in her sullen eyes, which refused to meet Simon's
look; and after a moment he went on:
"To obtain this, madame, we look to you. After last night I feel sure
his Majesty can refuse you nothing."
His words stung her into speech. "It is absurd," she burst out, "equal
shares! Monsieur, am I to be sucked dry by your exactions? Never! If
I get the grant it will be for myself, and you and De Mouchy will be
paid as heretofore. So much and no more; and if you like it not there
are others who will do my bidding." She rose from her seat in
magnificent anger, an evil, beautiful thing, and De Mouchy shrank from
her look. Not so Simon. With an angry growl he reached forward and
caught her wrist.
"Have you forgotten what there is between us?" he asked. She made no
answer, and strove to free herself silently; but Simon's grip was firm,
and there was a terrible meaning in his glance as he forced her back
into her seat. "Have you forgotten?" he asked again, "or shall I call
it from the house-tops to remind you? Fool! Do you not know there are
a hundred as fair as you ready to supplant you? One whisper of the
past, one whisper of the present--ay, the present--I have but to
breathe De Ganache's name."
"Enough!" she gasped, and Simon loosed his hold, and she sat for a
moment, her face buried in her hands.
"Come, Diane," and Simon changed his tone, "you have too many enemies
at your gate to quarrel with old friends. We need you and you need us."
She put her hands down, her face now as white as marble, all the cruel
lines of her features accentuated, and her eyes were those of a cowed
tigress. Never will I forget the scene. In this wicked woman's heart
there was not a regret, not a thought of the innocent blood she was
planning to shed. It was defeated avarice, pride wounded to the quick,
that struggled in her look, and made her, all beautiful as she was, for
the moment hideous.
"Get her some wine," said Simon shortly to De Mouchy--"and get it
yourself."
De Mouchy rose and left the room, and the two were alone together.
"Listen, Diane!" said Simon. "You stand on the edge of a precipice.
It is said that the King has spoken of nothing this morning but the
beauty of Mademoiselle de Paradis."
She gasped; and he went on:
"I see you understand. Well, unless you agree to my terms mademoiselle
is secure from harm; and I think you will find Anet a dull retreat."
There was a little snapping sound, and she had broken her fan, and
flung it from her on to the table. At this moment De Mouchy returned,
bringing with him some wine and glasses. One he filled and handed to
Diane, who drank it without a word, and then sat staring in front of
her.
"I think," said Simon, "that madame now agrees to our proposal. Is it
not so?'
"Yes," she said in a low voice, "I agree," but her eyes were kept down
to hide their expression.
"That, then, is settled. And remember, madame, that we cannot take
action until we have the King's grant in writing. De Mouchy here will
see that it is properly registered in the Chambre--and remember it must
be within a week, or----" And he bent forward and whispered something
in her ear.
"It shall be as you desire, Monsieur le Vidame."
"In that case," said Simon, filling himself a glass, "I drink to the
health of the Great Enterprise. To the unending radiance of the
crescent moon, to your new estate of Chateaux Vieux de Mouchy, and to
Simon, _Duc_ d'Orrain!"
With this he drank, and set the glass back on the table with a little
click.
There was a silence, and then Diane rose.
"There is nothing further to discuss, I think?" she said.
"No," replied Simon; "except that Dom Antoine here would like to
register a certain grant within a week."
She made no answer; but, preceded by De Mouchy and followed by Simon,
moved to the door, and all three left the room together. The stars had
been with me, and two minutes later I stood beside La Marmotte.
"Well?" she asked.
"There is no time to talk. If we could but get back that rope it would
remove all suspicion."
She hesitated, and then: "Perhaps with your sword."
"Excellent!" And, drawing my sword, which I had slung on once more, I
leaned forth from the window, and found that the point easily reached
the hook. It needed but a turn of the wrist to free the rope, which, a
moment after, was drawn in safely.
"And now," I said, "let us be off. If you are wise you will never set
foot here again."
She laughed sadly, and we went out together into the lonely Passage of
Pity. It was growing dark now, and threading our way through the
labyrinth of streets we reached the river face. Here La Marmotte
stopped, and abruptly wished me farewell; but I stayed her, thanking
her from my heart for her good deed, and ventured, with the utmost
diffidence, to say that if she were in need of a friend she could count
on me. She understood.
"Nay, monsieur," she said, "for me there is but one way, and that is to
follow the light that has come to me. We will never meet again; and,
perhaps, what I have done to-day may be some recompense for the past.
Farewell!"
Thus we parted; and from that day I never saw or heard of her again. I
may mention that when things changed with me I made every effort to
discover her, but without avail; and, when, some time after, Torquato
Trotto paid the penalty of his crimes, he asserted, even under the
rack, that he knew nothing of her, and that she had fled from him.
This I believe to be truth, and can only hope that the poor,
storm-tossed life found a haven of refuge at last.