JOY AND ANGUISH
Monsieur le Vicomte de Montgommery! At that name which, when pronounced
by the king, seemed to promise all that he wanted, Gabriel's heart
fairly leaped for joy.
Henri clearly intended to pardon his father.
"See! he gives way," said Madame de Poitiers, beneath her breath to the
constable, who had come to her side.
"Let us wait our opportunity," said Monsieur de Montmorency, without
losing his self-possession.
"Sire," Gabriel was saying to the king, more easily moved as his custom
was by hope than by fear, "Sire, it cannot be necessary for me to repeat
to your Majesty what favor it is that I venture to ask of your kindness,
your benevolence,--I may say, of your sense of justice. Having, I trust,
accomplished what your Majesty asked of me, may I hope that your Majesty
will condescend to grant my request! Have you forgotten your promise, or
do you choose to redeem it?"
"Yes, Monsieur, I will redeem it, upon the condition that silence is to
be maintained as we agreed," Henri replied, without hesitation.
"That condition, Sire, shall be exactly and rigorously observed; to that
I pledge my honor anew," said Gabriel.
"Come hither, then, Monsieur," said the king.
Gabriel approached him. The Cardinal de Lorraine discreetly stepped
aside; but Madame de Poitiers, who was seated by Henri's side, did not
stir, and was doubtless able to hear what was said, although the king
lowered his voice so that it might reach Gabriel's ear alone.
However, this watchful surveillance did not disturb the king's
determination, it must be confessed; for he continued firmly,--
"Monsieur le Vicomte de Montgommery, you are a valiant subject whom I
esteem and honor. Even when you are in possession of what you crave and
have so nobly earned, we shall still be far from having discharged our
indebtedness to you. However, take this ring, and present it to the
governor of the Châtelet at eight o'clock to-morrow morning. He will be
advised of your coming, and will deliver to you on the spot the object
of your sublime and holy quest."
Gabriel, who felt as if his knees were tottering from excess of joy,
could restrain himself no longer, but fell at the king's feet.
"Ah, Sire!" said he, his breast heaving with emotion and his eyes wet
with tears of happiness, "all the force and energy of which I may claim
to have given proof I hereby devote to your Majesty's service for the
rest of my life, as I would have devoted them to the service of my
hatred if you had said 'no.'"
"Really?" said the king, smiling good-humoredly.
"Yes, Sire, I confess it; and you ought to understand me, since you have
pardoned my father. Yes, I believe I would have haunted your Majesty and
your Majesty's children, as I will now defend and protect you and love
you in them. Before God, who punishes all false swearing sooner or
later, I will keep my oath of fidelity just as I would have kept my oath
of vengeance."
"Well, we shall see! Rise, Monsieur," said the king, still smiling.
"Calm yourself; and to restore your self-control, tell me some details
of this unhoped-for success at Calais, of which it seems to me I shall
never tire of hearing and speaking."
By this means Henri retained Gabriel by his side more than an hour,
asking questions and listening, and making him repeat everything, even
to the most minute details, a hundred times without seeming to grow
weary.
Then he handed the young hero over to the tender mercies of the ladies,
who were eager to have their turn at questioning him.
But in the first place the Cardinal de Lorraine, who was quite without
information as to Gabriel's antecedents, and saw in him only his
brother's friend and protégé, insisted upon presenting him to the
queen.
Catherine de Médicis, in the presence of the whole court, was obliged
to extend her thanks and congratulations to the man who had won so
glorious a victory for the king. But she did it with noticeable coldness
and reserve; and the stern and contemptuous glance of her gray eyes gave
the lie in a great measure to the words which fell from her lips, but
which did not express the sentiments of her heart.
Gabriel, while thanking Catherine in respectful terms, was conscious of
a freezing sensation at his heart when he heard her lying compliments,
beneath which he seemed to discern, as he recalled the past, an ironical
and hidden threat.
As he turned to withdraw after paying his respects to Catherine de
Médicis, he saw a sight which was quite sufficient to justify his
presentiment of evil.
He chanced to look toward the king, and saw with terror that Diane de
Poitiers was conversing in whispers with him, with her wicked, sardonic
smile. The more Henri II. seemed to remonstrate, the more persistent she
seemed to become.
Finally, she called the constable, who also talked with the king with
much earnestness for a long time.
Gabriel saw all this from a distance. Not one of his enemies' movements
escaped him, and he suffered the torments of the damned.
But just when his heart was being thus torn by conflicting emotions, the
young queen-dauphine, Mary Stuart, approached him gayly, and overwhelmed
him with compliments and questions.
Gabriel, despite his anxiety, exerted all his powers to reply to her.
"Why, it's magnificent!" said Mary, enthusiastically, "is it not, my
dear Dauphin?" she added, addressing François, her youthful husband,
who joined cordially in his wife's friendly words.
"What would one not do to deserve such kind words?" said Gabriel, whose
distraught eyes never left the group composed of the king, Diane, and
the constable.
"When I felt attracted to you by a strangely sympathetic feeling some
time ago," continued Mary Stuart, with the charming grace that was
peculiar to her, "it was doubtless because my heart foresaw that you
would contribute this marvellous achievement to the glory of my dear
uncle De Guise. Ah, I would that I, like the king, had the power of
rewarding you! But a woman, alas! has neither titles nor honors at her
disposal."
"Oh, but I really have all that I could ask for in the world!" said
Gabriel. At the same time he was thinking to himself, "The king no
longer replies, he listens simply."
"Well, then," rejoined Mary Stuart, "if I had the power, I would create
desires in you so that I might gratify them. But at this moment, see, I
have nothing but this bunch of violets which the gardener at the
Tournelles just sent me as a great rarity after the late frost. With the
permission of Monseigneur le Dauphin, I will give you these flowers as a
memento of the day. Will you accept them?"
"Oh, Madame!" cried Gabriel, kissing respectfully the fair hand that
offered them.
"Flowers," continued Mary Stuart, dreamily, "offer us their sweet odor
when we are glad, and comfort us in times of sorrow. I may be very
unhappy some day, but I shall never be altogether so as long as I am
allowed to have flowers near me. It is understood of course, Monsieur
d'Exmès, that to you, in this hour of good fortune and triumph, I offer
them only for their perfume."
"Who knows," said Gabriel, shaking his head sadly,--"who knows if I,
triumphant and fortunate as you say, do not need them rather to comfort
and console me?"
His gaze, even while he was speaking, was still fastened upon the king,
who for the moment seemed to be thinking deeply, and yielding to the
arguments always more and more earnest of Madame de Poitiers and the
constable.
Gabriel could but tremble at the thought that the favorite must have
overheard the king's promise, and that his father and himself were
undoubtedly the subject of their conversation.
The young queen-dauphine left him, with some gentle raillery upon his
preoccupation.
At this moment Admiral de Coligny came up to him, and, in his turn,
offered his hearty felicitations upon his success in maintaining and
surpassing at Calais the renown he had won at St. Quentin.
The poor fellow had never seemed to be so petted by fate or more worthy
of envy than when he was enduring such tortures as he had never before
imagined.
"You are quite as successful," said the admiral, "in gaining victories
as in minimizing the effects of defeat. I am more than proud to have
foreseen your extraordinary merit, and my only regret is that I was not
present to share with you the dangers of this noble feat of arms, so
fortunate for you and so glorious for France."
"Other occasions will not be lacking, Monsieur l'Amiral," said Gabriel.
"I am much inclined to doubt it," said Coligny, with some sadness. "May
God grant that if we do ever meet again upon a battle-field, it may not
be on opposing sides!"
"May Heaven forefend, indeed!" exclaimed Gabriel, earnestly; "what mean
you by those words, Monsieur l'Amiral?"
"Four adherents of the Religion have been burned alive during the last
month," replied Coligny. "The Reformers, who are growing every day in
numbers and in power, will eventually grow weary of this hateful and
iniquitous persecution. Even now two armies might be formed, I fear,
from the two parties into which France is divided."
"'Well?" said Gabriel, inquiringly.
"Well, Monsieur d'Exmès, despite the walk which we took together to the
Rue St. Jacques, you retained your freedom of action, and only bound
yourself at your own discretion. But now you seem to me to be too high
in favor at court, and justly so, not to be enrolled in the king's army,
as against the heresy, as it is called."
"I think that you are mistaken, Monsieur l'Amiral," said Gabriel, whose
eyes never left the king. "I have every reason to think, on the other
hand, that I shall very soon have the right to march in the ranks of the
oppressed against the oppressors."
"What! What do you mean?" asked the admiral. "You are pale, Gabriel, and
your voice falters. Pray, what is the matter?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing, Monsieur l'Amiral! But I must leave you. _Au
revoir_! We shall soon meet again."
Gabriel had observed an acquiescent gesture made by the king; whereupon
Monsieur de Montmorency had left the room at once, darting a triumphant
glance at Diane as he went.
However, the reception came to an end a few moments later; and Gabriel,
as he was bowing to the king on taking his leave, ventured to say,--
"Sire, until to-morrow."
"Until to-morrow, Monsieur," the king replied.
But as he spoke Henri avoided Gabriel's eye; he even turned away, nor
did he smile any longer, while Madame de Poitiers's face was beaming.
Gabriel, whom every one thought to see radiant with joy and hope,
withdrew with grief and terror at his heart.
All the evening he haunted the neighborhood of the Châtelet.
He regained his courage to some slight extent when time passed without
his seeing Monsieur de Montmorency leave the prison.
Then he felt the royal signet on his finger, and recalled the solemn
words of Henri II., which left no chance for doubt, and which could not
conceal a deception,--"The object of your sublime and holy ambition
shall be restored to you."
Courage! The night which still separated Gabriel from the decisive
moment seemed more than a year long.