THE OTHER DIANE
In spite of his marvellous self-control, Gabriel could not prevent the
blood from leaving his cheeks nor his voice from quivering when after a
moment's pause he said to the king,--
"Sire, it is in fear and trembling, and yet with implicit confidence in
your kingly word, that I venture, having only yesterday escaped from
captivity, to recall to your Majesty's mind the solemn engagement that
you deigned to enter into with me. The Comte de Montgommery still lives,
Sire; otherwise you would long ago have stayed my voice."
He stopped with a terrible oppression at his heart. The king remained
motionless and mute. Gabriel resumed:
"Well, then, Sire, since the Comte de Montgommery still lives, and since
according to Monsieur l'Amiral's testimony, I did prolong the resistance
of St. Quentin beyond the limit fixed by your Majesty, I have more than
kept my promise; now I beg you to keep yours. Sire, give me back my
father!"
"Monsieur!" said Henri, hesitatingly.
He looked anxiously at Diane de Poitiers, whose tranquillity and
self-possession seemed to be quite undisturbed.
Nevertheless, it was a difficult position for the king. Henri had grown
used to thinking of Gabriel as dead or in captivity, and had not
prepared himself with a reply to his terrible demand.
In the face of this hesitation Gabriel's heart was torn with anguish.
"Sire," he continued, in an almost despairing tone, "it is impossible
that your Majesty has forgotten! Your Majesty must remember our solemn
interview; what I undertook to do in the prisoner's behalf, and your
Majesty's reciprocal undertaking with me."
The king was touched in spite of himself at the grief and alarm of the
noble youth; the generous instincts in him awoke.
"I remember it all," he said to Gabriel.
"Ah, Sire, thanks!" cried Gabriel, with eyes shining with delight.
But Madame de Poitiers at this moment calmly interposed,--
"Doubtless the king remembers it all, Monsieur d'Exmès; but you
yourself seem to have forgotten."
A flash of lightning from a cloudless sky could not have terrified
Gabriel more than these words.
"What have I forgotten, Madame, pray?" the young man murmured.
"One half of your task, Monsieur," Diane replied. "You said to his
Majesty,--and if these are not your exact words, I at least give their
sense,--'Sire, to purchase the freedom of the Comte de Montgommery, I
will arrest the enemy in his triumphal march toward the heart of
France.'"
"Well, did I not do it?" asked the bewildered Gabriel.
"Oh, yes!" replied Diane, "but you added: 'And even, if it be necessary,
the assailed shall become the aggressor, and I will seize one of the
towns of which the enemy is in possession.' That is what you said,
Monsieur. Therefore it seems to me that you have done but half of what
you agreed to do. What answer have you to that? You held St. Quentin for
a certain number of days; it was well done, I do not deny. You have
shown us the town defended as you promised; but where is the town
taken?"
"Oh, _mon Dieu_, _mon Dieu_!" It was all Gabriel in his utter despair
could find strength to say.
"You see," Diane resumed with the same _sang-froid_, "that my memory is
even better and more at my command than yours. Yet I venture to hope
that now you remember."
"Yes, it is true, I do remember now!" cried Gabriel, in bitterness of
spirit. "But when I said that, I meant simply to say that in case of
need I would accomplish the impossible; for is it possible at this time
to take any town from the hands of the Spaniards or the English? Is it,
Sire? Your Majesty, by allowing me to go, tacitly accepted the first of
my offers, without giving me to understand that after such an heroic
effort and a long term of captivity I should be called upon to carry out
the second. Sire, it is to you--to you--that I appeal; one town for the
freedom of one man,--is not that enough? Will you not be content with
such a ransom; and must it be that on account of a mere foolish word
which escaped me in the exaltation of my spirit, you will impose upon
me, a weak human Hercules, another task a hundred times harder than the
first,--yes, Sire, even impossible, and understood to be so?"
The king made a motion of his lips, as if to speak, but the grande
sénéchale made haste to forestall him.
"Is it, pray, any easier and more practicable, is there any less of
danger or of madness, despite your promises, in setting free a dangerous
prisoner, who was guilty of the crime of _lèse-majesté_? You offered
to do the impossible in order to obtain the impossible, Monsieur
d'Exmès; and it is not fair that you should demand the fulfilment of
the king's word when you have not kept your own promise in full. The
duties of a sovereign are no less weighty than those of a son; enormous,
nay, superhuman services rendered the State can alone produce such a
condition of things as would justify his Majesty in nullifying the laws
of the State. You have a father to save,--very well; but the king has
France to protect."
And with a look which was a fit commentary to her words, Diane reminded
Henri of the great danger of allowing the old Comte de Montgommery and
his secret to rise from the tomb.
But Gabriel, making a last effort, stretched out his hands to the king,
and cried,--
"Sire, it is to you--to your sense of right, to your kind heart--that I
appeal. Sire, hereafter, aided by time and circumstance, I bind myself
to win back a town for my country, or to die in the attempt. But
meanwhile, Sire, for very pity's sake, let me see my father!"
Henri, taking counsel from the penetrating gaze of Diane and her whole
demeanor, responded, steadying his voice,--
"Keep your promise to the end, Monsieur; and I swear before God that
then, and then only, will I fulfil mine. My word is worth as much as
yours."
"That is your last word, Sire?" asked Gabriel.
"That is my last word."
Gabriel bent his head for a moment, overwhelmed and vanquished, and
altogether beside himself from his fearful repulse.
In one moment he revolved in his mind a whole world of thoughts.
He would be revenged upon the ungrateful king and his perfidious
favorite; he would throw in his lot with those of the Reformed religion;
he would accomplish the destiny of the Montgommeries; he would strike
Henri a mortal blow, even as Henri had struck the old count; he would
cause Diane de Poitiers to be banished from court in disgrace, and
bereft of all her honors. Henceforth that should be the one aim of his
will and his life; and far removed and impossible as its accomplishment
might seem to be for a simple gentleman, he would find a way to
accomplish it.
And yet his father meanwhile might die twenty times over. The avenger
was very well; but the savior was better. In his position, it was hardly
more difficult to capture a town than to punish a king; but the former
end was holy and glorious, the other criminal and impious: in the one
case he would lose Diane de Castro forever; in the other who could say
that he might not win her?
Everything that had happened since the fall of St. Quentin passed before
Gabriel's eyes like a flash.
In one tenth of the time that it takes us to write all this the gallant
and ever-ready heart of the young man had begun to throw off its
depression. He had made a resolution, formed his plan, and thought that
he could see in the distance a favorable result.
The king and his mistress marvelled, and were almost afraid, as they saw
him raise once more his pallid but tranquil face.
"So be it," was all he said.
"You are resigned, are you?" asked Henri.
"I have made my decision," Gabriel replied.
"How? Explain yourself," said the king.
"Listen to me, Sire. Any attempt that I should make to put into your
hands a town to pay for the one which the Spaniards have taken from you
would seem to you hopeless, impossible, the act of a madman, would it
not? Be frank with me, Sire, and you too, Madame,--is not this really
your opinion?"
"It is true," Henri replied.
"I fear so," added Diane.
"In all probability this attempt will cost me my life, and produce no
other result than to cause me to be looked upon as an absurd fool,"
Gabriel continued.
"It was not I who proposed it to you," said the king.
"Doubtless, your wisest course would be to give it up," Diane rejoined.
"I have told you, however, that I have resolved upon it," said Gabriel.
Neither Henri nor Diane could restrain an admiring exclamation.
"Oh, be careful!" cried the king.
"Of what?--of my life?" retorted Gabriel, laughing aloud. "I sacrificed
that long, long ago. But, Sire, there must be no misunderstanding and no
subterfuges this time. The terms of the bargain we are making together
before God are now clear and precise. I, Gabriel, Vicomte d'Exmès,
Vicomte de Montgommery, will bear myself in such fashion that by my
means some town which is to-day in the power of the Spaniards or the
English shall fall into your hands. This town shall be no paltry village
or hamlet, but a strong place, of as much importance as you can desire.
There is no ambiguity there, I think."
"No, truly not," said the king, uneasily.
"And you," Gabriel resumed, "Henri II., King of France, do also on your
part bind yourself to open the doors of my father's dungeon, at my first
demand, and to give up to me the Comte de Montgommery. Do you so bind
yourself? Is it done?"
The king noticed Diane's incredulous smile, and said,--
"I give you my word."
"Thanks, your Majesty. This is not all, however. You can well afford to
give one guarantee more to this poor maniac, who is hurling himself into
the abyss before your very eyes. You must be indulgent to those who are
about to die. I ask of you no signed writing, which might compromise
you,--doubtless, you would refuse it; but here is a Bible, Sire; place
your royal hand upon it, and take this oath: 'In exchange for a town of
the first class, the recovery of which I shall owe to Gabriel de
Montgommery alone, I pledge myself upon the holy gospels to restore
Vicomte d'Exmès's father to liberty; and I declare in advance that if I
prove false to this oath, said viscount is freed from all allegiance to
me and mine. I say that whatever he may do to punish me for my false
swearing will be well done, and absolve him before God and man for any
crime against my person.' Take that oath, Sire."
"By what right do you ask it of me?" said Henri.
"I told you, Sire, by the right of one who is soon to die."
The king still hesitated; but the duchess with her disdainful smile made
a sign to him that he might take the required oath without fear.
She really believed that for the moment Gabriel had lost his reason; and
she shrugged her shoulders in pity.
"Very well; I consent," said Henri, with a fatal impulse.
With his hand on the gospel, he repeated the words of the oath which
Gabriel dictated.
"At least," said the young man, when the king had done, "this will
suffice to spare your remorse. Madame Diane is not the only witness to
our new contract, for God also has witnessed it. Now, I have no more
time to lose. Adieu, Sire. In two months from now I shall be no longer
among the living, or my father will be in my arms."
He bowed low before the king and the duchess, and left the room in
haste.
Henri, in spite of himself, remained for a moment thoughtful and grave;
but Diane laughed merrily.
"Come, why don't you laugh, Sire?" said she. "Surely you see that this
madman is lost, and that his father will die in prison. You may safely
laugh, Sire."
"I am laughing," said the king, suiting the action to the word.