MONCEAUX.
Meanwhile Gaston went toward Monceaux.
He had found the duke's domino and mask in the carriage. The mask was of
black velvet--the domino of violet satin. He put them both on, and
suddenly remembered that he was without arms.
He thought, however, he should easily procure some weapon at Monceaux.
As he approached, he found it was not a weapon that he needed, but
courage. There passed in his mind a terrible contest. Pride and humanity
struggled against each other, and, from time to time, he represented to
himself his friends in prison, condemned to a cruel and infamous death.
As the carriage entered the courtyard of Monceaux, he murmured,
"Already!"
However, the carriage stopped, the door was opened, he must alight. The
prince's private carriage and coachman had been recognized, and all the
servants overwhelmed him with attentions.
Gaston did not remark it--a kind of mist passed before his eyes--he
presented his card.
It was the custom then for both men and women to be masked: but it was
more frequently the women than the men who went to these reunions
unmasked. At this period women spoke not only freely, but well, and the
mask hid neither folly nor inferiority of rank, for the women of that
day were all witty, and if they were handsome, they were soon titled:
witness, the Duchesse de Chateauroux and the Comtesse Dubarry.
Gaston knew no one, but he felt instinctively that he was among the most
select society of the day. Among the men were Novilles, Brancas,
Broglie, St. Simon, and Biron. The women might be more mixed, but
certainly not less spirituelles, nor less elegant.
No one knew how to organize a fete like the regent. The luxury of good
taste, the profusion of flowers, the lights, the princes and
ambassadors, the charming and beautiful women who surrounded him, all
had their effect on Gaston, who now recognized in the regent, not only a
king, but a king at once powerful, gay, amiable, beloved, and above all,
popular and national.
Gaston's heart beat when, seeking among these heads the one for which
his blows were destined, he saw a black domino.
Without the mask which hid his face and concealed from all eyes its
changing expression, he would not have taken four steps through the
rooms without some one pointing him out as an assassin.
Gaston could not conceal from himself that there was something cowardly
in coming to a prince, his host, to change those brilliant lights into
funeral torches, to stain those dazzling tapestries with blood, to
arouse the cry of terror amid the joyous tumult of a fete--and at this
thought his courage failed him, and he stepped toward the door.
"I will kill him outside," said he, "but not here."
Then he remembered the duke's directions, his card would open to him the
isolated conservatory, and he murmured--
"He foresaw that I should be a coward."
He approached a sort of gallery containing buffets where the guests came
for refreshment. He went also, not that he was hungry or thirsty, but
because he was unarmed. He chose a long, sharp and pointed knife, and
put it under his domino, where he was sure no one could see it.
"The likeness to Ravaillac will be complete," said he.
At this moment, as Gaston turned, he heard a well-known voice say--
"You hesitate?"
Gaston opened his domino and showed the duke the knife which it
concealed.
"I see the knife glisten, but I also see the hand tremble."
"Yes, monseigneur, it is true," said Gaston; "I hesitated, I trembled,
I felt inclined to fly--but thank God you are here."
"And your ferocious courage?" said the duke in a mocking voice.
"It is not that I have lost it."
"What has become of it then?"
"Monseigneur, I am under his roof."
"Yes; but in the conservatory you are not."
"Could you not show him to me first, that I might accustom myself to his
presence, that I may be inspired by the hatred I bear him, for I do not
know how to find him in this crowd?"
"Just now he was near you."
Gaston shuddered.
"Near me?" said he.
"As near as I am," replied the duke, gravely.
"I will go to the conservatory, monseigneur."
"Go then."
"Yet a moment, monseigneur, that I may recover myself."
"Very well, you know the conservatory is beyond that gallery; stay, the
doors are closed."
"Did you not say that with this card the servants would open them to
me?"
"Yes; but it would be better to open them yourself--a servant might wait
for your exit. If you are thus agitated before you strike the blow, what
will it be afterward? Then the regent probably will not fall without
defending himself--without a cry; they will all run to him, you will be
arrested, and adieu your hope of the future. Think of Helene, who waits
for you."
It is impossible to describe what was passing in Gaston's heart during
this speech. The duke, however, watched its effect upon his countenance.
"Well," said Gaston, "what shall I do? advise me."
"When you are at the door of the conservatory, the one which opens on to
the gallery turning to the left--do you know?"
"Yes."
"Under the lock you will find a carved button--push it, and the door
will open, unless it be fastened within. But the regent, who has no
suspicion, will not take this precaution. I have been there twenty times
for a private audience. If he be not there, wait for him. You will know
him, if there, by the black domino and the golden bee."
"Yes, yes; I know," said Gaston; not knowing, however, what he said.
"I do not reckon much on you this evening," replied the duke.
"Ah! monseigneur, the moment approaches which will change my past life
into a doubtful future, perhaps of shame, at least of remorse."
"Remorse!" replied the duke. "When we perform an action which we believe
to be just, and commanded by conscience, we do not feel remorse. Do you
doubt the sanctity of your cause?"
"No, monseigneur, but it is easy for you to speak thus. You have the
idea--I, the execution. You are the head, but I am the arm. Believe me,
monseigneur," continued he in a hollow voice, and choking with emotion,
"it is a terrible thing to kill a man who is before you
defenseless--smiling on his murderer. I thought myself courageous and
strong; but it must be thus with every conspirator who undertakes what I
have done. In a moment of excitement, of pride, of enthusiasm, or of
hatred, we take a fatal vow; then there is a vast extent of time between
us and our victim; but the oath taken, the fever is calmed, the
enthusiasm cools, the hatred diminishes. Every day brings us nearer the
end to which we are tending, and then we shudder when we feel what a
crime we have undertaken. And yet inexorable time flows on; and at every
hour which strikes, we see our victim take another step, until at length
the interval between us disappears, and we stand face to face. Believe
me, monseigneur, the bravest tremble--for murder is always murder. Then
we see that we are not the ministers of our consciences, but the slaves
of our oaths. We set out with head erect, saying 'I am the chosen one:'
we arrive with head bowed down, saying, 'I am accursed.'"
"There is yet time, monsieur."
"No, no; you well know, monseigneur, that fate urges me onward. I shall
accomplish my task, terrible though it be. My heart will shudder, but my
hand will still be firm. Yes, I tell you, were it not for my friends,
whose lives hang on the blow I am about to strike, were there no Helene,
whom I should cover with mourning, if not with blood, oh, I would prefer
the scaffold, even the scaffold, with all its shame, for that does not
punish, it absolves."
"Come," said the duke, "I see that though you tremble, you will act."
"Do not doubt it, monseigneur; pray for me, for in half an hour all will
be over."
The duke gave an involuntary start; however, approving Gaston's
determination, he once more mixed with the crowd.
Gaston found an open window with a balcony. He stepped out for a moment
to cool the fever in his veins, but it was in vain; the flame which
consumed him was not to be extinguished thus.
He heard one o'clock strike.
"Now," he murmured, "the time is come, and I cannot draw back. My God,
to thee I recommend my soul--Helene, adieu!"
Then, slowly but firmly, he went to the door, and pressing the button,
it opened noiselessly before him.
A mist came before his eyes. He seemed in a new world. The music sounded
like a distant and charming melody. Around him breathed the sweetly
perfumed flowers, and alabaster lamps half hidden in luxuriant foliage
shed a delicious twilight over the scene, while through the interlacing
leaves of tropical plants could just be seen the leafless gloomy trees
beyond, and the snow covering the earth as with a winding sheet. Even
the temperature was changed, and a sudden shiver passed through his
veins. The contrast of all this verdure, these magnificent and
blossoming orange trees--these magnolias, splendid with the waxy blooms,
with the gilded salons he had left, bewildered him. It seemed difficult
to connect the thought of murder with this fair-smiling and enchanted
scene. The soft gravel yielded to his tread, and plashing fountains
murmured forth a plaintive and monotonous harmony.
Gaston was almost afraid to look for a human form. At length he glanced
round.
Nothing! he went on.
At length, beneath a broad-leaved palm, surrounded by blooming
rhododendrons, he saw the black phantom seated on a bank of moss, his
back turned toward the side from whence he was approaching.
The blood rushed to Gaston's cheeks, his hand trembled, and he vainly
sought for some support.
The domino did not move.
Gaston involuntarily drew back. All at once he forced his rebellious
limbs to move on, and his trembling fingers to grasp the knife they had
almost abandoned, and he stepped toward the regent, stifling a sob which
was about to escape him.
At this moment the figure moved, and Gaston saw the golden bee, which
seemed like a burning gem before his eyes.
The domino turned toward Gaston, and as he did so, the young man's arm
grew rigid, the foam rose to his lips, his teeth chattered, for a vague
suspicion entered his breast.
Suddenly he uttered a piercing cry. The domino had risen, and was
unmasked--his face was that of the Duc d'Olivares.
Gaston, thunderstruck, remained livid and mute. The regent and the duke
were one and the same. The regent retained his calm majestic attitude;
looked at the hand which held the knife, and the knife fell. Then,
looking at his intended murderer with a smile at once sweet and sad,
Gaston fell down before him like a tree cut by the ax.
Not a word had been spoken; nothing was heard but Gaston's broken sobs,
and the water of the fountains plashing monotonously as it fell.