POPULAR JUSTICE.
It is some time since sunrise. The Regent, who has recently and for good
cause moved to the tower of the Louvre, has just risen from his bed,
which is located in the rear of a vast chamber, roofed with gilded
rafters and magnificently furnished. Rich carpets hang from the walls. A
few favorites are accorded the august honor of assisting the treacherous
and wily youth, who is reigning over Gaul, in his morning toilet. One of
the courtiers, the seigneur of Norville, jealous of his servitude to the
prince, is kneeling at his feet in the act of adjusting his long
tapering shoes, while, seated on the edge of his bed, his head down,
careworn, pensive and twirling his thumbs as was his habit, the Regent
mechanically allows himself to be shod. Hugh, the Sire of Conflans and
marshal of Normandy, he who presided at the mutilation and execution of
Perrin Mace, is conversing in a low voice with Robert, marshal of
Champagne, another councilor of the Regent, in the embrasure of a window
at the other end of the chamber. After a long time watching his thumbs
twirl, the Regent raised his head, called the marshal of Normandy in his
shrill voice and asked: "Hugh, at what hour is the barrier of the Seine
closed, below the postern that opens on the river bank?"
"Sire, the barrier is closed at nightfall"; and the marshal added
sardonically. "Such are the orders of Marcel."
"After nightfall, no vessel can leave Paris?"
"No, Sire. After nightfall no one can leave Paris either by land or
water. Such, again, are the orders of Marcel."
"In that case," the Regent replied without looking up and after a
moment's reflection, "you will procure a vessel this morning, have it
moored outside of the barrier at a little distance from the postern gate
at the foot of the little staircase. You and Robert," proceeded the
Regent pointing to the marshal of Champagne, "will hold yourselves ready
to accompany me. Prudence and discretion."
For a moment the two favorites remained mute with astonishment. The
marshal of Normandy broke the silence with the question: "Do you
contemplate leaving Paris by night and furtively, Sire? Would you not be
leaving the field to that miserable Marcel? Why, by the saints! If that
insolent bourgeois annoys you, Sire, follow the advice I have so often
given you! Have Marcel and his councilmen hanged as I hanged Perrin
Mace! Did his execution cause Paris to riot? No; not one of the
good-for-nothings has dared to kick; they contented themselves with
attending in mass the funeral of the hanged fellow. Charge me with
relieving you of Marcel along with his gang. It is done quickly."
"Among other scamps that should be hanged high and short," added the
marshal of Champagne, "is one Maillart, who is profuse in violent
denunciations of the court!"
"Maillart! Allow not a hair on Maillart's head to be touched!" said the
Regent with lively interest, while bestowing a sinister and false leer
upon the courtiers.
"It will be as you say, Sire," answered the marshal of Normandy, not a
little astonished at the prince's words. "We shall spare Maillart. But
by God! Order that the other insolent creatures be put to death, Marcel
first of all! Your orders shall be executed."
"Hugh," answered the prince, rising on his feet to put on his robe that
the seigneur of Norville was pressing upon his master after having shod
him, "let the vessel be ready this evening as I ordered. Be punctual.
Prudence and discretion."
"You do not then listen to my advice!" cried the marshal almost
angrily. "Your clemency for those vile bourgeois will yet be the undoing
of you! Your goodness misleads you!"
"My clemency! My goodness!" repeated the prince, casting a sinister look
upon the marshal.
Understanding now the secret thoughts of his master, the courtier
answered: "If you have decided to mete out prompt justice to that
insolent bourgeoisie, why wait so long, Sire?"
"Oh! Oh! Why!" said the young man shrugging his shoulders. He then
relapsed into silence, and presently repeated: "Let the vessel be ready
this evening."
The Regent's favorites were too well acquainted with the youth's
stubbornness and profound powers of dissimulation to endeavor to obtain
from him any further light upon his plans. Nevertheless, the marshal of
Normandy was about to return to the charge, when an officer of the
palace entered and said: "Sire, the seigneur of Nointel and the knight
of Chaumontel request admission to take leave from you, a favor that you
have accorded them."
At a sign of the Regent the officer left walking backward, and returned
almost immediately accompanied by Conrad of Nointel and the knight of
Chaumontel. The trials of war had no wise affected the health of the two
seigneurs. The two had been among the first to turn tail at the battle
of Poitiers. The groom of the beautiful Gloriande was not leading back
to her feet the ten chained English prisoners that she had demanded as
the pledge of her future husband's valor.
"Well, Conrad of Nointel, you are leaving the court to return to your
seigniory?" said the Regent. "We hope to see you again in more
prosperous days. We ever love to number a Neroweg among our faithful
vassals, seeing that it is said your family is as old as that of the
first Frankish kings. Have you not an elder brother?"
"Yes, Sire. The elder branch of my family inhabits Auvergne, where it
owns estates that it owes to the sword of my ancestors, Clovis'
companions of war. My father left his castle of Plournel, situated near
Nantes, to come to Nointel which reverted to him upon my mother's death.
He preferred the neighborhood of Paris and of the court to that of
savage Brittany. I am of my father's opinion, and I do not expect ever
to return to the domains that I own in that region and which are
governed by my bailiffs."
"I rely on your promise. The illustriousness of your house makes me
anxious to keep it near my court."
"Sire, I shall return for a double reason. First of all to please the
Regent, and also to please my betrothed, the damosel of Chivry, who much
desires to see the court. But I must hasten to leave Paris in order to
collect the money for my own and my friend's ransom. It is a large sum
that we have to pay."
"Then you were both taken by the English?"
"Yes, Sire," answered the knight of Chaumontel; "but seeing that my
casque and sword are my only property, Conrad, as a loyal brother in
arms, has taken it upon himself to pay for me--"
"Did the English set you free on parole? They are generous enemies."
"Yes, Sire," answered Conrad. "I was taken by the men of the Duke of
Norfolk, and he placed our ransom at six thousand florins. But I said to
him: 'If you retain me a prisoner, my bailiff will never be able to
raise from my vassals so large a sum; the vigorous hand of their own
seigneur is required to seize so much money from those villeins; let me,
therefore, return to my domains, and on my faith as a Christian and a
knight I shall speedily bring to you the six thousand florins for our
ransom.'"
"And the Englishman accepted?"
"Without hesitation, Sire. Moreover, learning that my seigniory was in
Beauvoisis, he said to me: 'You will run in that region across a certain
bastard named Captain Griffith, who for some time has been raiding the
region of Beauvoisis with his band.'"
"That is so!" exclaimed one of the courtiers. "Fortunately, however, the
fortified castles of the seigneurs are protected from the ravages of
that chief of adventurers. He falls upon the plebs of the open fields,
and his bands put everything to fire and to the sword. He is a savage
warrior."
"Well," resumed the Regent with a cruel smile, "let the bourgeois who
presume to govern in our stead stop these disasters!" And turning to the
Sire of Nointel: "But what has that adventurer of a captain to do with
your ransom?"
"It is to him I am to deliver our ransom, together with a letter that
the Duke of Norfolk gave me for him."
At this moment the marshal of Normandy, who had inclined his head toward
the window, interrupted Conrad, saying: "What noise is that?... I hear
near and approaching clamors."
"Clamors!" cried the seigneur of Norville, "who would be so impudent as
to clamor in the vicinity of the King's palace? Give the order, Sire, to
punish the varlets."
"It is not clamors merely, but threatening cries," put in the marshal of
Champagne running to the door which he opened, and through which a wild
outburst of furious imprecations penetrated into the royal chamber.
Almost at the same time an officer of the palace ran in from the
gallery. He was pale and frightened, and came screaming: "Flee, Sire!
The people of Paris are invading the Louvre! They have disarmed your
guards!"
"Stand by, my friends!" cried the Regent, livid with terror and taking
refuge in his bed, behind the curtains of which he sought to hide
himself. "Defend me!... The felons mean to kill me!"
At the first signal of danger, the marshals of Normandy and Champagne,
the same as a few other courtiers, resolutely drew their swords. Conrad
of Nointel and his friend the knight of Chaumontel, however, guided by a
valor that was tempered by extreme prudence, searched with their eyes
for some issue of escape, while the seigneur of Norville, jumping upon
the bed, tried to hide himself behind the same curtain with the Regent.
Suddenly another door, one facing that of the gallery, flew open, and a
large number of palace officers, prelates and seigneurs, ran in
helter-skelter, screaming: "The Louvre is invaded by the people! Marcel
is heading a band of murderers.... Save the Regent!"
These cries had hardly been uttered when the courtiers saw Marcel,
followed by a compact troop armed with pikes, axes and cutlasses, appear
at the other end of the gallery that communicated with the royal
apartment. These men, bourgeois and artisans of Paris, uttered not a
sound. Only their foot-falls were heard on the stone slabs. The silence
of the armed crowd seemed more ominous than its previous clamors. At
their head marched the provost, calm, grave and resolute. A few steps
behind him came William Caillet armed with a pike, Rufin the
Tankard-smasher with a battle mace, and Jocelyn the Champion with drawn
sword. During the few seconds that it took Marcel to cross the gallery,
the distracted courtiers held a sort of council in broken words. None of
the confused and hasty views prevailed. The Regent remained hidden
behind the curtains of his bed together with the seigneur of Norville.
Trembling and pale but kept from fleeing by a sense of self-respect, the
majority of the courtiers crowded back into the furthest corner of the
apartment, while the less scrupulous Conrad of Nointel and his friend,
having slid themselves near the second door that led to another
apartment, prudently took themselves off.
When he presented himself at the threshold of the royal chamber, Marcel
met there none to defend it besides the two marshals who stood with
drawn swords. Be it, however, that at that supreme moment they felt
imposed by the aspect of the provost, or that they realized the
uselessness of a struggle that meant inevitable death to themselves,
both lowered their swords.
"Where is the Regent?" inquired Marcel in a loud and firm voice. "I
wish to speak with him. He has nothing to fear from the people."
The accent of the provost was so sincere and the loyalty of his word was
so generally acknowledged, even by his enemies, that yielding both to a
sentiment of royal dignity and to the confidence inspired by Marcel's
words, the Regent came out from behind the curtains, not a little
encouraged at the same time by the presence of the court people and the
quiet demeanor of the armed crowd that had invaded the Louvre.
"Here I am," said the Regent taking a few steps toward Marcel yet
unable, despite his powers of dissimulation, to wholly conceal the rage
that had succeeded his fright. "What do you want of me? The Regent waits
to hear you!"
Marcel turned towards the armed men who had followed him and ordered
them with a gesture to guard silence and not to cross the threshold of
the royal chamber which he now entered alone. On the other hand, after a
short and whispered consultation with his courtiers, the Regent
gradually regained composure and addressed the provost in these words:
"Your audacity is great!... To enter my palace in arms!"
"Sire! I have long been requesting an interview from you by letters, and
failed; I have been compelled to force open your doors in order to make
you hear, in the name of the country, the language of sincere
severity--"
"To the point," broke in the Regent impatiently. "What do you want?
Speak!"
"Sire! The people demand, first of all the loyal enforcement of the
reform ordinances which you have signed and promulgated."
"You are called the King of Paris," answered the Regent with a caustic
smile; "well, then, rule!... Save the country!"
"Sire! The voice of the national assembly has been heard in Paris and in
some other large towns. But your partisans and your officers, sovereign
in their seigniories or in the domains which they govern in your name,
have banded themselves to prevent the execution of the laws upon which
the safety of Gaul depends. Such a state of things must promptly cease,
Sire!... Aye, very promptly. The people so wills it."
The Regent turned to the group of prelates and seigneurs at the head of
whom stood the Marshal of Normandy; a hurried council was again held by
the courtiers who hastened around their chief; and then returning to the
provost, the Regent answered haughtily: "Is that your only grievance?
Let's hear the rest!!"
"We have imperative demands."
"What else do you want?"
"An act of justice and reparation, Sire! Perrin Mace, a bourgeois of
Paris, has been mutilated and then put to death in defiance of right and
of law by the order of some of your courtiers.... The seigneur who
ordered the execution of an innocent man must be sentenced to death! It
is the law of retaliation."
"By the cross of the Saviour!" cried the Regent. "You dare come and
demand of me the condemnation and execution of the marshal of Normandy,
my best friend!"
"That man is causing your ruin with his detestable advice. He shall
expiate his crime."
"Impudent scamp!" cried out the marshal of Normandy in a fit of rage,
threatening Marcel with his sword. "You have the audacity to make
charges against me!"
"Not another word!" ordered the Regent interrupting his favorite and
beckoning him to lower his sword. "It is for me to answer in this place.
I order you, Master Marcel, to leave this place, and upon the spot!"
"Sire!" answered the provost with patronizing commiseration, "you are
young, my hairs are grey.... Your age is impetuous, mine is calm.... I
therefore have the right and the duty to lecture to you. I beseech you
in the name of the country, in the name of your crown, to loyally
fulfill your promises, and, however painful it may seem to you, to
grant the reparation that I demand in the name of justice. Prove in that
manner that, when the law is audaciously violated, you punish the
guilty, whatever his rank.... Sire! It is still time for you to listen
to the voice of equity!--"
"And I tell you, Master Marcel," yelled the Regent furiously, "that it
is time, high time, to put an end to your insolent requests! Be gone,
instantly!"
"Away with this varlet in rebellion against his King," cried the
courtiers, like the Regent re-assured and deceived by the attitude of
Marcel's armed escort, that remained mute and motionless, and turning to
them the marshal of Normandy called out: "As to you, good people of
Paris, who now regret the criminal errand on which this bedeviled rebel
has brought you despite yourselves, join us, the true friends of your
King, in punishing the treason of this miserable Marcel.... Let his
blood fall upon himself!"
The provost smothered a sigh of regret, stepped back a few paces so as
to place himself beyond the reach of the marshal's sword, turned to his
people and said: "Carry out the orders that brought you here."
These words were hardly uttered when Marcel's armed men, anxious to make
amends for the silence and prolonged restraint imposed upon them by his
orders, burst loose in an explosion of cries of indignation and of
threats that struck the Regent and his courtiers with stupor and
consternation. Rufin the Tankard-smasher bolted upon the marshal of
Normandy, seized him by the collar and cried: "You had Perrin Mace
mutilated and hanged; now you shall be hanged! The gibbet is ready!"
"And this for you, caitiff," responded the marshal, quick as lightning
transfixing the student's left arm with a thrust of his sword. "The cord
that is to hang me is not yet twisted."
"No, but the iron that will smash you to death is forged, my noble
gentleman," answered the student dealing with his mace a furious blow
upon the marshal's head. "I have been Rufin the Tankard-smasher; now I
am Rufin the Head-smasher!"
The student spoke true. The marshal's skull was crushed; he fell and
expired at the Regent's feet bestaining with his blood the latter's
robe. During the tumult that ensued, the marshal of Champagne rushed at
Marcel dagger in hand. But William Caillet, who had all the while been
seeking with burning eyes for the Sire of Nointel from among the
brilliant bevy of courtiers, threw himself in front of the provost ahead
of Jocelyn, who had darted forward with the same intention, and the old
peasant thrust his pike into the bowels of the marshal. The corpse of
the courtier rolled upon the floor. Popular vengeance was taken.
The other seigneurs and prelates, who had run to the royal chamber, fled
back distracted by the door that had admitted them. When the Regent,
who, fainting with terror, had crouched back upon the bed with his face
hidden in his hands, looked up again, he found himself alone with Marcel
and not far from the prostrate corpses of his two councilors. Marcel's
armed men had slowly departed through the gallery together with Caillet,
while Jocelyn was engaged near a window in bandaging with his
handkerchief the wound of the student.
Finally, protruding under the drapery of the bed behind which he had
held himself all the while motionless as a mouse, the feet were seen of
the seigneur of Norville, who had lacked even the strength to flee.
"Mercy, Master Marcel!" cried the Regent, trembling with fear and
throwing himself at Marcel's feet with arms outstretched in supplication
and his face in tears. "Do not kill me; have pity upon me, my good
father! Mercy!"
"We have no thought of killing you," Marcel answered, painfully touched
by the suspicion; and stooping down to raise the Regent added: "May my
name be accursed if such a crime ever entered my mind! Fear not, Sire!
Rise! The people of Paris are good."
"Oh, my good father! I beg your pardon on my knees for having ignored
your wise counsels and listened to bad advisers." Breaking out into
sobs, the young prince added, wringing his hands in despair: "Oh, good
God! Alone and so young to be far away from my father, who is held a
prisoner, is it any fault of mine if I placed confidence in the men
around me?" The Regent's eyes fell upon the corpses of the two marshals.
In heart-rending accents he proceeded: "There they are, the men who
misled me! They loved me! They knew me since my cradle! But, like
myself, they were blind in their error. Oh, good father! Reproach me not
for weeping over the fate of these unfortunate men. It is my last adieu
to them," and still on his knees, the Regent crouched lower, his face in
his hands and continued sobbing--with rage, not repentance.
Although long made acquainted by experience with the Regent's profound
duplicity--a degree of duplicity almost incredible at so tender an
age--Marcel was deceived by what seemed the sincerity of the young man's
distressful accent. His touching prayer, his tears, the sorrow which he
did not fear to express at the death of his two councilors--all combined
to induce the belief that, frightened by the terrible reprisals that had
taken place under his own eyes, the Regent was sincerely contrite at his
errors, and that, convinced at last regarding his own interests, which
commanded him to break with the evil past, he now really desired to
march on the straight path. Marcel congratulated himself on the happy
change, and said to Jocelyn in a low voice: "Order our people away from
the gallery. Let them leave the palace and assemble under the large
window of the Louvre. You and Rufin may stay with me. I shall take the
Regent out of this chamber. The sight of the corpses is too painful to
him."
Jocelyn and the student executed the orders of Marcel. Crouching on the
floor the Regent did not cease moaning and sobbing. The seigneur of
Norville left his hiding place without being noticed by the prince, and
approaching him on tip-toe whispered in his ear: "Sire, the most
faithful of all your servitors is happy of having braved a thousand
dangers and deaths sooner than to leave you alone with these bandits and
rebels. Allow me, my noble and dear master, to help you to rise."
The Regent obeyed mechanically, and noticing that Marcel, who was just
giving his instructions to Jocelyn and Rufin, could neither see nor hear
him, he whispered back to Norville: "Do not leave me. Watch for a moment
when I can speak to you without being seen by anybody"; observing
thereupon that Marcel was again approaching, while the champion and
Rufin both left the room, he uttered a piteous moan, turned to the
corpses of the two marshals and muttered in a smothered voice: "Adieu,
oh, you who loved me and whose sad errors I shared. May God receive you
in his Paradise!"
"Come, Sire, come," said Marcel with kindness, leading the Regent to the
gallery; "come, lean upon me!"
The seigneur of Norville followed the prince from whom he did not take
his eyes and said to the provost in an undertone: "Oh, Master Marcel! Be
the protector, the tutor of my poor young master.... He always had a
tender feeling for you!"
"Now, Sire," Marcel said to the Regent after they had gone a little way,
"I place confidence in your promise ... I believe in the salutary effect
of the terrible example you witnessed. Oh, these painful extremes; but
violence fatedly engenders violence!... It now depends upon you, Sire,
to prevent the recurrence of similar acts of reprisal. Give the example
of respect for the law. All will then look to the law instead of
resorting to force, the last recourse of men when they have vainly
invoked justice! The present moment is decisive. If you should still
belie our hopes ... our new hopes; if unfortunately it should be shown
to us that you are incapable or unworthy of ruling under the watchful
and severe vigilance of the States General, elected by the nation
herself, I tell you sincerely, Sire, the people, finding their patience
exhausted, and impatient of further deceit, sufferings, disasters and
misery, might respect your life, but they would then choose another King
who shall be more thoughtful of the public weal.... You will then cease
to reign."
"Oh, good father! Why threaten me! I am a poor young man, and am at your
mercy. Have pity upon me!"
"Sire! I do not threaten you. Far from me be such cruelty! I only place
things before you such as they are. It depends upon you to help towards
the public safety."
"Speak, speak, good father.... I shall obey you as a most respectful
son, I swear to you upon my salvation.... Moreover, you shall be my only
councilor.... Speak, what do you order?"
"The people are assembled before the Louvre.... They are informed of the
death of the marshal of Normandy.... Show yourself at the window.... Say
a few good words to the crowd.... Announce plainly your good
resolves.... Declare that the cause of the people is above all yours ...
and here, Sire," added Marcel, taking off his hat and offering it to the
Regent, "as a token of our alliance, good will and harmony, wear my hat
with the popular colors. The inhabitants of Paris will be pleased at
this first proof of condescension and agreement."
"Give it to me.... Give it to me," the Regent said with avidity,
hastening to don Marcel's hat of red and blue. "A friend like you, my
good father ... only such a friend could give me such an advice.... Open
the window; I wish to speak to my well beloved people of Paris," added
the Regent addressing the seigneur of Norville, who having held himself
at a distance during the conversation of Marcel and the prince, now
again drew near as ordered. "Open the window wide," said the prince.
"Jocelyn," observed Rufin in a low voice to the champion while the
Regent, slowly moving towards the window that the seigneur of Norville
hastened to open, seemed to be consulting Marcel, "what do you think of
the good resolutions of that youngster?"
"Like Master Marcel, I believe him sincere. Not that I trust in the
heart of that royal stripling, but because it is to his interest to
follow wise counsel."
"Hm! Hm! To me it looks as if he is playing a comedy. A prince's word is
poor guarantee."
"Do you imagine the Regent is so double-faced or so foolish as to try to
deceive Master Marcel?"
"As true as Homer is the king of rhapsodists, never was my wench Margot
about to play me some scurvy trick without she called me her 'musk-rat,'
her 'beautiful king,' her 'gold canary,' and other names no less
flattering than deceitful."
"But what connection is there between Margot and the Regent? Quit your
fooling!"
"Listen to me to the end. I happen to have an assignment with her for
this evening near the Louvre, on the river bank, because by what she
says, her friend Jeannette does not want to see me at her house. Very
well. I swear by Ovid, the poet beloved of Cupid, Margot acted the
gentle puss and induced me to go and inhale the mists of the Seine
simply because she had made up her mind to go elsewhere this evening."
"Rufin, let's talk seriously!"
"Seriously, Jocelyn. I fear that the promises of the Regent are like
those of Margot! I can assure you, much as the sword thrust I received
smarts me devilishly, I would have preferred having pocketed one more in
return for having settled the accounts of that puling youngster as I did
the accounts of the marshal of Normandy."
"Come, now! Those are excesses worthy only of John Maillart.... But, by
the way, did he accompany us hither?"
"No. After he had, despite all your and Marcel's entreaties, driven a
few miserable brutes to massacre Master Dubreuil when he crossed our
march on his mule, Maillart disappeared. I place no reliance on him.
Heaven and earth! That murder was deplorable! The marshals of Normandy
and Champagne were enough----"
"Listen!" cried Jocelyn interrupting his friend, and pointing to the
Regent, who, having advanced to the balcony, was addressing the people
gathered on the street.
"Beloved inhabitants of my good city of Paris," the Regent was saying in
a moved and tearful voice, "I appear before you firmly resolved to make
amends for my wrongful conduct. I swear by these colors that are your
own, and that henceforth will be mine," he added, carrying his hand to
the red and blue hat he wore on his head. "The marshal of Normandy, one
of my councilors, unjustly ordered the execution of Perrin Mace, an
honest bourgeois of Paris. The marshal has just been put to death. May
that reparation satisfy you, dear and good Parisians! Let us forget our
dissensions; let us join in a common accord for the country's good....
Let us love one another! Let us help one another! I admit my errors!
Will you pardon them? Oh, I am so young! Evil councilors led me astray.
But I shall henceforth have only one.... That councilor ... here he is!"
and the Regent, turning towards Marcel, added: "Good inhabitants of
Paris, receive this embrace which I now give you from the bottom of my
heart in the person of the great citizen whom we all cherish, whom we
all venerate." While pronouncing these last words, the young prince
threw himself weeping into the arms of the provost and pressed him to
his breast,--the embrace of rulers, a mortal caress!
At the touching spectacle, the enthusiastic clamors of the mobile and
credulous mass resounded loud, and prolonged cries of "Long live
Marcel!" "Long live the Regent!" "To a happy issue!" greeted the
reconciliation as a happy augury of the future.
Profoundly moved himself, Marcel said to the Regent upon returning with
him into the gallery: "Sire, full of hope and of confidence, the people
acclaimed with their joyous cries an era of peace, of justice, of
grandeur and of prosperity. Do not shatter so many hopes. Good is so
easy for you to achieve! It is so beautiful to bequeath to posterity a
glorious name, blessed by all."
"My good father!" answered the Regent, panting for breath, "my eyes have
been opened to the light; my heart expands.... I am reborn for a new
life.... You shall not leave me to-day; only to-night if you must....
Let's go to work.... Let us jointly take prompt, energetic measures....
Oh! Your wishes shall be realized.... I shall bequeath to posterity a
name blessed by all.... Come, my good father!" and passing his arm
around the neck of Marcel with filial familiarity, the young man took a
few steps with him in the gallery towards his cabinet. But suddenly
stopping, he added in the most natural manner, as if struck by a
thought: "Oh, I forgot!" He then left Marcel and stepped back towards
the seigneur of Norville, whom he called. The latter hastened to respond
and the Regent whispered to him: "This evening, at nightfall, let a
vessel manned with two trusty sailors be ready for me just outside the
barrier facing the postern gate of the Louvre.... Gather all my gold and
precious stones in a coffer, and keep yourself ready to accompany me.
Prudence and discretion!"
"Sire, rely upon me!"
"Well, Jocelyn," said Marcel to the champion during the secret
conversation of the Regent and his courtier, "you see it.... My hopes
have not been deceived.... The lesson was terrible and salutary. Return
home and tell Marguerite that I do not expect to be back until late. I
wish to profit on the spot by the young man's repentance. He and I will
probably work together a part of the night."
"Pardon me, my good father," said the Regent to the provost, returning
to him; "we shall doubtlessly be up late together, and I wished to
notify the Queen that I may not see her again to-day"; and again placing
his arm around Marcel's neck he said to him while walking towards the
cabinet: "Now, to work! Good father, to work! And quickly!"
Thus, followed by the seigneur of Norville, the two quitted the gallery,
from which also Jocelyn and Rufin took their departure together.
"After what you have just heard," remarked the champion to the student,
"can you still entertain any doubts concerning the Regent's sincerity?
Do you still believe he plays a comedy?"
"Do you remember, Jocelyn, that at the University we were in the habit
of taking aim with a stone saying: 'If my stone hits, my first wish will
be realized?'"
"Rufin!" sadly answered the champion, "since on my arrival in Paris I
learned of my father's death, I have lost my sense of humor. As I said
to you before, I say now, let us talk seriously, my friend."
"I would not, my worthy Jocelyn, seem to make light of your bereavement;
and yet, out of place as my words may seem, they are, by Jupiter, to the
point! All I shall say is this: Day before yesterday, my wench Margot
gave me, with a good many monkey tricks and pussy purrings, an
assignment at the river bank. If Margot is faithful to her promise, I
shall then believe the Regent to be sincere in his good resolves; not
before."
"The devil take the fool!" said Jocelyn impatiently and he walked away
ahead of Rufin, who pensively said to himself: "My friend Rufin the Head
smasher, you are become as much of a fatalist as a Mohamedan! That's a
shameful thing for a free thinker!"