THE SEVEN SINS OF MAGDALENE.
The king, however, on seeing his horses, did not wish to be alone in the
carriage, but desired D'Epernon to sit by him. De Loignac and St. Maline
rode on each side, and an outrider in front. The king was, as usual,
surrounded by dogs, and there was also a table in the carriage, covered
with illuminated pictures, which the king cut out with wonderful skill,
in spite of the movement of the carriage. He was just then occupied with
the life of Magdalene, the sinner. The different pictures were labeled
"Magdalene gives way to the sin of anger"--"Magdalene gives way to the
sin of gluttony," and so on through the seven cardinal sins. The one
that the king was occupied with, as they passed through the Porte St.
Antoine, represented Magdalene giving way to anger.
The beautiful sinner, half-lying on cushions, and with no other covering
than the magnificent hair with which she was afterward to wipe the feet
of Jesus, was having a slave, who had broken a precious vase, thrown
into a pond filled with lampreys, whose eager heads were protruding from
the water: while on the other side, a woman, even less dressed than her
mistress, as her hair was bound up, was being flogged, because she had,
while dressing her mistress's head, pulled out some of those magnificent
hairs, whose profusion might have rendered her more indulgent to such a
fault. In the background were visible some dogs being whipped for having
allowed beggars to pass quietly, and some cocks being murdered for
having crowed too loudly in the morning.
On arriving at the Croix-Faubin, the king had finished this figure, and
was passing to "Magdalene giving way to the sin of gluttony."
This represented a beautiful woman lying on one of those beds of purple
and gold on which the ancients used to take their repasts; all that the
Romans had most recherche in meat, in fish, and in fruit, dormice in
honey, red mullets, lobsters from Stromboli, and pomegranates from
Sicily, ornamented the table, while on the ground some dogs were
disputing for a pheasant, while the air was full of birds, which had
carried off from the table, figs, strawberries, and cherries. Magdalene
held in her hand, filled with white liquor, one of those
singularly-shaped glasses which Petronius has described in his feasts.
Fully occupied with this important work, the king merely raised his eyes
as they passed by the convent of the Jacobins, from which vespers was
sounding on every bell, and of which every window and door was closed.
But a hundred steps further on, an attentive observer would have seen
him throw a more curious glance on a fine-looking house on his left,
which, built in the midst of a charming garden, opened on the road. This
house was called Bel-Esbat, and, unlike the convent, had every window
open with the exception of one, before which hung a blind. As the king
passed, this blind moved perceptibly; Henri smiled at D'Epernon, and
then fell to work on another picture. This was the sin of luxury. The
artist had represented this in such glowing colors, and had painted the
sin with so much courage and minuteness, that we can only describe a
small part of it, viz.:--that Magdalene's guardian angel was flying back
to heaven affrighted, and hiding his face in his hands. All this
occupied the king so much, that he never noticed an image of vanity who
rode by his carriage. It was a pity; for St. Maline was very happy and
proud on his horse, as he rode so near that he could hear the king say
to his dog, "Gently, M. Love, you get in my way;" or to M. le Duc
d'Epernon, "Duke, I believe these horses will break my neck." From time
to time, however, St. Maline glanced at De Loignac, who was too much
accustomed to these honors not to be indifferent to them; and he could
not but feel the superiority of his calm and modest demeanor, and even
would try to imitate, for a few minutes, until the thought would recur
again, "I am seen and looked at, and people say, 'Who is that happy
gentleman who accompanies the king?'" St. Maline's happiness seemed
likely to last for a long time, for the horses, covered with harness
heavy with gold and embroidery, and imprisoned in shafts like those of
David's ark, did not advance rapidly. But as he was growing too proud,
something peculiarly annoying to him came to temper it down; he heard
the king pronounce the name of Ernanton, and not once, but two or three
times. St. Maline strained his attention to hear more, but some noise or
movement always prevented him. Either the king uttered some exclamation
of regret at an unlucky cut of the scissors, or one of the dogs began to
bark. So that between Paris and Vincennes, the name of Ernanton had been
pronounced six times by the king, and four times by D'Epernon, without
St. Maline's knowing the reason. He persuaded himself that the king was
merely inquiring the cause of Ernanton's disappearance, and that
D'Epernon was explaining it. At last they arrived at Vincennes, and as
the king had still three sins to cut out, he went at once to his own
room to finish them. It was a bitterly cold day, therefore St. Maline
sat down in a chimney corner to warm himself, and was nearly falling
asleep, when De Loignac put his hand on his shoulder.
"You must work to-day," said he; "you shall sleep some other day; so get
up, M. de St. Maline."
"I will not sleep for a fortnight, if necessary, monsieur."
"Oh! we shall not be so exacting as that."--"What must I do, monsieur?"
"Get on your horse and return to Paris."
"I am ready; my horse is standing saddled."
"Good; go then straight to the room of the Forty-five, and awaken every
one; but excepting three, whom I will name to you, no one must know
where he is going, nor what he is about to do."
"I will obey these instructions implicitly."
"Here then are some more; leave fourteen of these gentlemen at the Porte
St. Antoine, fifteen others half way, and bring the rest here."
"Yes, monsieur; but at what hour must we leave Paris?"
"When night falls."
"On horseback or on foot?"
"On horseback."
"Armed?"
"Fully; with daggers, pistols, and swords."
"With armor?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Here are three letters; one for M. de Chalabre, one for M. de Biron,
and one for yourself. M. de Chalabre will command the first party, M. de
Biron the second, and yourself the third."
"Good, monsieur."
"These letters are only to be opened at six o'clock. M. de Chalabre will
open his at the Porte St. Antoine, M. de Biron his at the Croix Faubin,
and you yours on your return."
"Must we come quickly?"
"As quickly as possible, without creating suspicion. Let each troop come
out of Paris by a different gate; M. de Chalabre by the Porte Bourdelle;
M. de Biron by the Porte du Temple, and you through the Porte St.
Antoine. All other instructions are in the letters. Go quickly from here
to the Croix Faubin, but then slowly; you have still two hours before
dark, which is more than necessary. Now do you well understand your
orders?"
"Perfectly, monsieur."
"Fourteen in the first troop, fifteen in the second, and fifteen in the
third; it is evident they do not count Ernanton, and that he no longer
forms part of the Forty-five," said St. Maline to himself when De
Loignac was gone.
He fulfilled all his directions punctually. When he arrived among the
Forty-five, the greater number of them were already preparing for their
supper. Thus the noble Lardille de Chavantrade had prepared a dish of
mutton stewed with carrots and spices, after the method of Gascony, to
which Militor had occasionally aided by trying the pieces of meat and
vegetable with a fork.
Pertinax de Montcrabeau, and the singular servant who spoke to him so
familiarly, were preparing supper for themselves and six companions,
who had each contributed six sous toward it; each one, in fact, was
disposing according to his fancy of the money of his majesty Henri III.
One might judge of the character of each man by the aspect of his little
lodging. Some loved flowers, and displayed on their window-sills some
fading rose or geranium; others had, like the king, a taste for
pictures; others had introduced a niece or housekeeper; and M. d'Epernon
had told M. de Loignac privately to shut his eyes on these things. At
eight o'clock in winter, and ten in summer, they went to bed; but always
leaving fifteen on guard. As, however, it was but half-past five when
St. Maline entered, he found every one about, and, as we said,
gastronomically inclined. But with one word he put an end to all this:
"To horse, gentlemen," said he; and leaving them without another word,
went to explain his orders to MM. de Biron and Chalabre. Some, while
buckling on their belts and grasping their cuirasses, ate great
mouthfuls, washed down by a draught of wine; and others, whose supper
was less advanced, armed themselves with resignation. They called over
the names, and only forty-four, including St. Maline, answered.
"M. Ernanton de Carmainges is missing," said De Chalabre, whose turn it
was to exercise these functions. A profound joy filled the heart of St.
Maline, and a smile played on his lips, a rare thing with this somber
and envious man.
The forty-four therefore set off on their different routes.