"'With a gentleman of more ancient race than you, foremost baron in Christendom though you be!' the count burst in, fairly beside himself. 'Besides, every noble is as good as the king; and kings have not always been so discreet, as you undertake to claim, and for very good reasons. Charles of Naples challenged Alphonse of Arragon, and François I., not so very long ago, challenged Charles V. "That was king against king," you say. 'Very well! Monsieur de Nemours, the king's nephew, called out an humble Spanish captain. The Montgommerys are every whit as good as the Valois; and as they have many times intermarried with the royal children of France and England, there is no reason why they should not fight with them. The Montgommerys of old bore the arms of France pure in the second and third quarterings. After their return from England, whither they followed William the Conqueror, their arms were azure, a lion, or, armed, andlampasséargent, with the mottoGarde lieu! and threefleurs-de-lison a field gules. Come, then, Monseigneur, our arms are like our swords, a fitting guarantee of our knightly prowess. Ah, if you loved this woman as I do, and if you hated me as I hate you! But no, you are a mere timid boy, happy in being able to hide behind your preceptor.'
"'Monsieur de Montmorency, let me go!' cried the dauphin, struggling fiercely with Montmorency, who was holding him back.
"'No, by Heaven!' said Montmorency, 'I will not let you fight with this madman! Below there! Help! help!' he shouted at the top of his voice.
"And Diane, too, leaning over the stairway, could be distinctly heard crying with all her might,—
"'Help! Come up, you fellows! Are you going to let your masters be murdered?'
"This Delilah-like perfidy—for, after all, they were two to one against Monsieur de Montgommery—undoubtedly excited the count's blind fury to the highest pitch. Perrot, paralyzed with terror, heard him say,—
"'Does it need, then, the last insult of all to convince you,—you and your go-between,—Henri de Valois, that youmustgive me satisfaction?'
"Perrot supposed that he then approached the dauphin and threatened to strike him with his hand, for Henri roared like a tiger. But Monsieur de Montmorency had evidently caught the count's arm, for while he was shrieking louder than ever, 'Help! help!' Perrot, who could see nothing, heard the prince cry out,—
"'His glove touched my face! He must die by no other hand than mine, now, Montmorency!'
"All this took place with the rapidity of lightning. Just at that moment the escort came in; then ensued a savage combat, and a tremendous noise of trampling, and clashing steel. Monsieur de Montmorency cried, 'Bind the madman!' And the dauphin, 'Don't kill him! In Heaven's name, don't kill him!'
"This one-sided battle didn't last a moment. Perrot hadn't time even to rush to his master's assistance. He got as far as the threshold; and there he saw one of the escort lying on the floor, and two or three others covered with blood. But the count was disarmed, and already bound and tightly held by five or six armed men who had attacked him at once. Perrot, who was not noticed in the confusion, thought he could be of more use to Monsieur de Montgommery by remaining free, and in condition to let his friends know, or to rescue him on some more favorable occasion. So he returned noiselessly to his post, and there, on the alert and with his hand on his sword, he waited—since his master was not killed, or even wounded—until it was time to show himself, and perhaps save him; for you will soon see, Monseigneur, that neither resolution nor daring was lacking in my good husband; But he was as prudent as he was valiant, and knew how to make skilful use of his opportunities. For the moment his cue was to watch; and that is what he did, carefully and with perfect self-possession.
"Meanwhile Monsieur de Montgommery, tightly pinioned, was still crying out,—
"'Didn't I tell you, Henri de Valois, that you would have to fight with ten swords against my one, and meet my insult with the obedient courage of your soldiers?'
"'You hear, Monsieur de Montmorency!' said the trembling dauphin.
"'Let him be gagged!' was Monsieur de Montmorency's only reply. 'I will soon give you your instructions,' said he to the men, 'as to what is to be done with him. Meanwhile keep careful watch on him; you shall answer for him to me with your heads.'
"And he left the oratory, taking the dauphin with him. They passed through the corridor, where Perrot was hiding behind the hangings, and went into Madame Diane's apartment.
"Perrot thereupon went over to the other wall, and applied his ear to the other disused door.
"The scene of which he had already been an auditor was on the whole less terrible than that to which he was now to listen."
"'MONSIEUR de MONTMORENCY,' said the dauphin, as he entered the room, angry and cast down, 'if you had not held me back, I should be better content with myself and you than I am at present.'
"'Permit me to say, Monseigneur,' Montmorency replied, 'that you talk like a hot-headed youth, and not like the king's son. Your days do not belong to you; they belong to your people, Monseigneur, and crowned heads have different duties from other men.'
"'Why, then, should I be so angry with myself, and so ashamed?' said the prince. 'Ah! there you are, Madame,' he added, addressing Diane, whom he had just espied.
"And for the moment his wounded self-esteem got the better of his jealous passion.
"'It is at your house and through your connivance,' said he, 'that I have been insulted for the first time in my life.'
"'Alas! at my house, yes; but do not say through my connivance, Monseigneur,' replied Diane. 'Haven't I suffered quite as much as you,—yes, more than you? Am I not innocent of all this? Do you suppose that I care for that man, pray? Or that I have ever cared for him?'
"Having betrayed him, she now disowned him; it was very simple.
"'I love you and only you, Monseigneur, she went on; 'my heart and soul are yours only and absolutely; and my existence dates only from the day when you accepted this heart which is devoted to you. But before that it may be—yes, I remember vaguely that I did allow this Montgommery to entertain some hope. Never anything positive, and no definite engagement. But you came; and all else was forgotten. Since that time I swear to you—and you may believe my words rather than the jealous slanders of Madame d'Étampes and her friends—since that blessed time I have not had a single thought or a single heart-beat that has not been for you, Monseigneur. That man lies; that man is acting in concert with my enemies; that man has no right over her who belongs so completely to you, Henri. I hardly know the man; and not only do I not love him, but, Great Heaven, I hate and despise him! See, I don't even ask you if he be dead or alive. I think only of you. And as for him, I hate him!'
"'Is this true, Madame?' said the dauphin, still with something of gloomy distrust in his tone.
"'It will be very easy and a very short matter to prove it,' replied Monsieur de Montmorency. 'Monsieur de Montgommery is living, Madame; but he is securely bound and in no condition to do any harm. He has put a shameful outrage upon the prince. But to accuse him before the ordinary tribunals is not to be thought of; to punish him for such a crime would be more dangerous than the crime itself. On the other hand, it is still more utterly out of the question that Monseigneur le Dauphin should engage in single combat with this insolent scoundrel. Now what do you suggest, Madame? What shall we do with this man?'
"There was a moment of painful silence. Perrot held his breath so that he might not lose a syllable of the words which were so slow in coming. But it was evident that Madame Diane was in fear for herself as well as for what she was going to say. She hesitated about uttering her own sentence.
"But at last she had to speak; and with a voice that was still reasonably firm, she said,—
"'Monsieur de Montgommery has been guilty of the crime oflèse-majesté. Monsieur de Montmorency, to what penalty are they liable who commit that crime?'
"'Death,' the constable replied.
"'Then,' said Madame Diane, coldly, 'my opinion is that this man should die.'
"Both the others stood aghast at these words; and there was another pause before Monsieur de Montmorency replied,—
"'You mean by that, Madame, that you do not love Monsieur de Montgommery, and never have loved him.'
"'For my part,' said the dauphin, 'I am less desirous than ever now that he should die.'
"'I hold the same views,' said Montmorency, 'but on different grounds from yours, I take it, Monseigneur. The opinion which generosity moves you to express, I hold for prudential reasons. Monsieur de Montgommery has many friends and powerful allies in France and England; it is known at court that he was likely to meet us here to-night. If they come to us and ask us boldly and clamorously for news of him to-morrow, it must not be that we are able to produce only a dead body. Nobles cannot be treated like serfs and put to death without ceremony. We must be able to reply,—"Monsieur de Montgommery has absconded;" or, "Monsieur de Montgommery is wounded and ill;" but in any event, "Monsieur de Montgommery is alive!" 'And if we are pushed to the last extremity, and if they persist in clamoring for him to the end, well, then we must be in a position where if worst comes to worst, we can take him from his prison or his bed and produce him to the slanderers. But I hope that this precaution, necessary though it be, will nevertheless be useless. Monsieur de Montgommery will be sought for and inquired for to-morrow and the day after; but in a week's time the matter will begin to die out, and in a month he will not be mentioned at all. Nothing is forgotten so speedily as a friend; and we must help to change the subject of common gossip. My conclusion is, then, that the culprit must neither die nor live; he must disappear.'
"'So be it!' said the dauphin. 'Let him go; let him leave France! He has property and connections in England; let him take refuge there.'
"'Not by any means, Monseigneur,' Montmorency replied. 'Death is too much; but banishment is not enough. Would you like,' he added in a lower tone, 'to have this fellow tell in England rather than in France how he threatened you with an insulting gesture?'
"'Oh, don't remind me of that!' cried the dauphin, grinding his teeth.
"'Yet I must remind you of it, Monseigneur, to fortify you against a perilous decision. It is essential, I say again, that the count should tell no tales, living or dead. The men of our escort can be depended upon; and, besides, they have no idea with whom they are dealing. The governor of the Châtelet is a friend of mine; more than that, he is as deaf and dumb as his prison, and devoted to his Majesty's service. Let Monsieur de Montgommery be carried to the Châtelet this very night. A good strong dungeon will keep him for us, or give him back to us, as we choose. To-morrow he will have disappeared; and we will take pains to spread most contradictory and inconsistent reports as to his disappearance. If these rumors do not die out of themselves, and if the count's friends are too persistent in making search for him, which is hardly probable; and if they institute a rigorous and thorough inquiry, which would greatly surprise me,—why, then we can justify ourselves in one word by producing the register of the Châtelet, which will prove that Monsieur de Montgommery, accused of the crime oflèse-majesté, is held in prison pending the regular decree of the courts. Then, when this fact is once established, will it be our fault if the prison is unhealthy; and if grief and remorse have taken too strong a hold on Monsieur de Montgommery, and if he dies before he has had time to appear to answer to the charge?'
"'Oh, Monsieur!' cried the dauphin, in horror.
"'Never fear, Monseigneur,' replied the prince's adviser; 'we shall have no need to go to such lengths. The rumors caused by the count's disappearance will die away. His friends will be consoled, and will soon forget; and Monsieur de Montgommery will live, if he chooses, the life of a prisoner from the moment that he dies to the world.'
"'But has he not a son?' asked Madame Diane.
"'Yes, a very young boy, who will be told that no one knows what has become of his father, and who will, when he has grown up, if he lives to grow up, poor little orphan, have interests and passions of his own, and will not trouble himself to unearth a story fifteen or twenty years old.'
"'That is all very true, and well thought of,' said Madame de Poitiers. 'Come, I am inclined to accept it; nay, more, I approve of it, and marvel at it.'
"'You are really too kind, Madame,' replied Montmorency, much flattered, 'and I am very glad to see that we are suited to appreciate each other.'
"'But I neither approve of it nor marvel at it, for my part,' cried the dauphin; 'on the contrary, I oppose it and disclaim it.'
"'Disclaim it, Monseigneur, and you will do quite right,' said Monsieur de Montmorency. 'Disclaim it; but do not oppose it. Find fault with it; but let it go on. All this doesn't concern you at all; and I take the whole responsibility of the affair upon my shoulders, before God and man.'
"'But henceforth we shall be bound together by fellowship in crime, shall we not,' said the dauphin, 'and you will no longer be my friend simply, but my accomplice?'
"'Oh, Monseigneur, perish the thought!' cried the crafty minister. 'You ought not to compromise yourself by punishing the culprit any more than by fighting him. Is it your pleasure that we refer the whole matter to the king your father?'
"'No, no; let my father know nothing of all this,' said the dauphin, quickly.'
"'But my duty,' said Monsieur de Montmorency, 'will compel me to inform him, nevertheless, Monseigneur, if you persist in thinking that the time for chivalrous deeds is to last forever. Come, let us not hasten the affair, if you prefer not, and let us wait for time to ripen our judgment. Only let us make sure of the count's person, as an essential part of our final plans, whatever they may be; and then we will postpone for a time any final conclusion on the subject.'
"'Very well,' said the dauphin, whose feeble will was quick to grasp at this pretended adjournment of the painful subject. 'Monsieur de Montgommery will thus have time to reconsider his first unreflecting impulse, and I also may reflect at my leisure on what my conscience and my dignity demand that I should do.'
"'Let us go back to the Louvre, then, Monseigneur,' said Monsieur de Montmorency, 'and leave no doubt of our presence there. I will send him back to you to-morrow, Madame,' he continued, turning to Madame de Poitiers with a smile; 'for I can see that you love him with a real, heartfelt passion.'
"'But is Monseigneur le Dauphin convinced of it?' said Diane; 'and have I his forgiveness for this unfortunate meeting, so entirely unforeseen by me?'
"'Yes, indeed you must love me,—in truth, with a mighty love, Diane,' replied the dauphin, thoughtfully; 'and I am in too great need of believing it to doubt it. And as the count very truly said, I felt too keenly the pang which cut my heart when I fancied I had lost you, so that your love is henceforth necessary to my existence; and when I loved you once, it was for life.'
"'Ah, God grant that you speak the truth!' cried Diane, passionately, covering with kisses the hand that the dauphin held out to her in token of forgiveness.
"'And now let us be off without more delay,' said Monsieur de Montmorency.
"'Au revoir, Diane.'
"'Au revoir, my dear Lord,' said the duchess, with a most captivating accent upon the last words.
"She went with him to the door of the room. While the dauphin was descending the stairs, Monsieur de Montmorency opened the door of the oratory where Monsieur de Montgommery was still lying, guarded and bound, and said to the leader of the men-at-arms,—
"'I will send hither at once one of my people, who will instruct you what to do with your prisoner. Until then watch his every movement, and don't lose sight of him for one moment. You shall answer to me, all of you, with your lives.'
"'Very well, Monseigneur,' replied the soldier.
"'Besides, I shall be on the watch too,' said Madame de Poitiers, from the door where she was still standing.
"They all disappeared, and Perrot from his hiding-place could hear nothing but the regular tread of the sentinel stationed just within the oratory to guard the door, while his comrades guarded the prisoner."
Aloyse, having rested a few moments, for she could hardly breathe as she recalled this mournful story, collected herself once more, and at Gabriel's earnest entreaty finished her narrative in these words:—
"One o'clock in the morning was striking when the dauphin and his unscrupulous mentor took their leave. Perrot saw that his master was lost beyond all hope of rescue if he gave Monsieur de Montmorency's messenger time to arrive. The moment for him to act was at hand. He had noticed that Monsieur de Montmorency had not mentioned any countersign or any signal by which his envoy could be recognized; so after waiting about half an hour, to give Monsieur time to have given him his instructions, Perrot crept carefully out of his hiding-place, went down a few stairs on his toes, and then ascended them again, making his tread distinctly audible, and knocked at the door of the oratory.
"The scheme that he had formed on the spur of the moment was an audacious one; but its very audacity gave it some chance of success.
"'Who's there?' asked the sentinel.
"'A messenger from Monseigneur le Baron de Montmorency.'
"'Open,' said the leader of the party to the sentinel.
"The door opened, and Perrot entered boldly and confidently.
"'I am,' said he, 'the squire of Monsieur Charles de Manffol, who is attached to Monsieur de Montmorency's service, as you know. We were just going off guard at the Louvre, my master and I, when we met on the Grève Monsieur de Montmorency with a tall young man wrapped in a cloak. Monsieur de Montmorency recognized Monsieur de Manffol, and called him. After talking together a few moments, they both ordered me to come here to Madame Diane de Poitiers's house, Rue du Figuier. I should find here, they said, a prisoner, as to whom Monsieur de Montmorency has given me certain directions which I am about to carry out. I asked him for a small escort; but he told me that there was already a sufficient force here, and I see that there are more of you than I need to assist me in executing the conciliatory mission with which I am intrusted. Where is the prisoner? Ah, there he is! Remove the gag, for it is necessary that I should speak to him, and that he should be able to reply to me.'
"The conscientious leader of the men-at-arms still hesitated, despite Perrot's deliberate speech.
"'Have you no written order to give me?' he asked.
"'Does one write orders on the Place de Grève at two in the morning?' replied Perrot, shrugging his shoulders. 'Monsieur de Montmorency told me that you would expect me.'
"'Very true.'
"'Well, then, what game are you trying to play on me, my good fellow? Come, leave the room, you and your people; for what I have to say to this gentleman must be kept secret between ourselves. What! don't you hear me? Leave us, I say!'
"They did finally leave; and Perrot walked coolly up to Monsieur de Montgommery, who had been relieved of his gag.
"'My brave Perrot!' said the count, who had recognized his squire at once, 'how do you happen to be here?'
"'You shall know, Monseigneur; but we have not a moment to lose now. Listen.'
"In a few words he told him of the scene which had transpired in Madame Diane's apartment, and of the determination which Monsieur de Montmorency seemed to have taken of burying forever the terrible secret of the insult with the insulter. Thus it was necessary to escape this fatal captivity by a bold and desperate stroke.
"'And what do you mean to do, Perrot?' asked Monsieur de Montgommery. 'See, there are eight of them against us two, and here we are not in the house of our friends,' he added bitterly.
"'Never mind that!' said Perrot; 'do you just let me do all the acting and the talking, and you are saved, you are free.'
"'What's the use, Perrot?' said the count, gloomily. 'What more have I to do with life or liberty? Diane does not love me! Diane hates me and betrays me!'
"'Put by all remembrance of that woman, and think of your child, Monseigneur.'
"'You are right, Perrot; I have already neglected him too much, poor little Gabriel, and God is just to punish me for it. For his sake, then, I ought and I will try to avail myself of this last chance of safety which you hold out to me, my friend. But, in the first place, listen to me: if this chance fails me, if this undertaking, audacious to the point of madness, which you are about to venture on, fails, I do not wish to bequeath to the orphan for his inheritance, Perrot, the results of my unhappy fate; I do not wish to subject him after my disappearance from among the living to the powerful hatred to which I have been forced to yield. Swear to me, then, that if the prison or the tomb opens its doors to me, and you survive me, Gabriel shall never know from you the circumstances of his father's disappearance from the world. If he should come to know this terrible secret, he would try some day either to avenge me or to rescue me, and would ruin himself. I shall have a bitter enough reckoning to settle with his mother, without adding that burden to it. Let my son live in happiness, free from anxiety about his father's past! Swear this for me, Perrot, and do not consider yourself relieved from the obligation of this oath unless the three actors in the scene you have described to me die before I do, and the dauphin (who will be king then, no doubt), Madame Diane, and Monsieur de Montmorency carry their potent hatred with them to the grave, and can no longer harm my child. Then, in that very improbable concurrence of events, let him try, if he will, to learn of my whereabouts and to find me. But until then, let him know as little as everybody else—yes, less than anybody else—of his father's end. Do you promise me this, Perrot! Do you swear it? I will not give myself up to your rash and, I greatly fear, fruitless devotion, except on that one condition, Perrot.'
"'Do you wish it so, Monseigneur? Then I swear it.'
"'Upon the cross of your sword-hilt, Perrot, Gabriel shall never know from you of this perilous mystery?'
"'Upon the cross of my sword-hilt, Monseigneur!' said Perrot, his right hand held aloft.
"'Thanks, my dear friend. Now do with me as you will, my faithful servant. I place my reliance on your courage and the favor of God.'
"'Be self-possessed and confident, Monseigneur,' replied Perrot. 'You will soon see.'
"Recalling the leader of the men-at-arms, he said,—
"'What the prisoner has said to me is satisfactory, and you may unbind him and let him go.'
"'Unbind him! Let him go!' rejoined the astounded leader.
"'To be sure! Such are Monsieur de Montmorency's orders.'
"'Monsieur de Montmorency,' replied the man-at-arms, shaking his head, 'ordered us to keep this prisoner in sight, and said as he went away that we should answer for it with our lives. How can it be that Monsieur de Montmorency now wishes us to set the gentleman at liberty?'
"'So that you refuse to obey me, who speak in his name, do you?' said Perrot, abating nothing of his assurance.
"'I hesitate. See here, if you were to order me to kill the man, or to throw him into the river, or to take him to the Bastille, we would obey, but to let him go!—that, you see, is not the sort of thing we're accustomed to.'
"'So be it!' replied Perrot, in no whit disconcerted. 'I have given you the orders that I received, and I wash my hands of the rest of it. You will answer to Monsieur de Montmorency for the consequences of your disobedience. As for me, there's nothing more for me to do here. Good-evening!'
"And he opened the door, as if to take his leave.
"'Ho, there, one moment!' said the leader; 'how quick you are! So you mean to declare that it is Monsieur de Montmorency's will that we should let this prisoner go? You are quite sure that it was Monsieur de Montmorency who sent you?'
"'You idiot!' replied Perrot; 'how else should I know that he had a prisoner under guard here? Has any other person gone out to tell of it, if it was not Monsieur de Montmorency himself?'
"'Well, your man shall be unbound!' said the soldier, as surly as a tiger whose prey has been torn from his grasp. 'How changeable these great lords are,corps Dieu!'
"'Good! I will await you,' said Perrot.
"He remained outside, nevertheless, on the topmost step of the staircase, with his face turned toward the stairs, and his drawn sword in his hand. If he saw the real messenger from Montmorency coming up, he must see to it that he came no farther.
"But he neither saw nor heard behind him Madame de Poitiers, who, aroused by the sound of voices, had come out of her chamber, and gone along to the open door of the oratory. She saw that they were releasing Monsieur de Montgommery, who was transfixed with horror as he saw her there.
"'Wretches!' she cried, 'what are you doing there?'
"'We are obeying the orders of Monsieur de Montmorency, Madame,' said the leader, 'and releasing the prisoner.'
"'It cannot be possible!' replied Madame de Poitiers. 'Monsieur de Montmorency can never have given such orders. Who brought you this order?'
"The men pointed out Perrot, who had turned about, stupefied with terror, on hearing Madame Diane's voice. A ray of light from the lamp fell full upon poor Perrot's pale face, and Madame Diane recognized him at once.
"'That man?' said she; 'that man is the prisoner's squire! Just see what you were about to do!'
"'That's a lie!' replied Perrot, still trying to deny his identity. 'I am Monsieur de Manffol's squire, and am sent here by Monsieur de Montmorency.'
"'Who says that he was sent by Monsieur de Montmorency?' chimed in the voice of a new arrival, who was the real envoy himself. 'My good fellows, this man lies! Here are the Montmorency ring and seal; and you ought to know me too. I am the Comte de Montausier.[3]What! you dared to take away the prisoner's gag, and were in the very act of releasing him? Wretches! Gag him again, and bind him tighter still!'
"'As you please!' said the chief of the guards; 'but the orders he gave us sounded all right, and were easy to understand.'
"'Poor Perrot!' was all the count said.
"He did not stoop to utter a word of reproach to Madame de Poitiers, though he would have had time enough before the handkerchief they put between his teeth was in place. It may be, too, that he feared to compromise his true-hearted squire any further; but Perrot, unluckily, wasn't as discreet as he, and said to Madame Diane indignantly,—
"'Well, Madame, you don't stop halfway in a felony, at least! Saint Peter denied his Lord three times, but Judas only betrayed him once. You have betrayed your lover three times within an hour. To be sure, Judas was only a man, while you are a woman and a duchess.'
"'Seize that man!' cried Madame Diane, in a perfect fury of rage.
"'Seize that man!' the Comte de Montausier echoed.
"'Ah, but I am not taken yet!' cried Perrot.
"And in so desperate a plight he took a desperate step; with one leap he was at Monsieur de Montgommery's side, and began to cut his bonds with his poniard, crying,—
"'Help yourself, Monseigneur, and let us sell our lives as dearly as we can!'
"But he had only time to free his left arm; for he could defend himself only partially while trying to cut the count's cords at the same time. Ten swords clashed with his. Surrounded, and struck at on all sides at once, a powerful blow that he received between the shoulders laid him at his master's feet, and he fell unconscious, and like a dead man."
[3]This exploit of the young Comte de Montausier, the apprehension of Montgommery, was a fitting prelude to the assassination of Lignerolles. It is well-known that Monsieur de Lignerolles having informed Charles IX. that the Duc d'Anjou, his master, had confided to him his secret scheme for getting rid of the leading Huguenots, the king induced his brother (D'Anjou) to have Lignerolles put out of the way as a precaution against any possible indiscretion on his part. The Comte de Montausier took charge of the execution, with four or five other gentlemen-executioners, all of whom eventually came to a wretched end. "Wherefore," says Brantôme, "we ought to take great care that we slay no man unjustly; for one scarcely ever hears of such a murder which has not been avenged with the sanction of God, who has put a sword at our side for use, and not to be abused."
[3]This exploit of the young Comte de Montausier, the apprehension of Montgommery, was a fitting prelude to the assassination of Lignerolles. It is well-known that Monsieur de Lignerolles having informed Charles IX. that the Duc d'Anjou, his master, had confided to him his secret scheme for getting rid of the leading Huguenots, the king induced his brother (D'Anjou) to have Lignerolles put out of the way as a precaution against any possible indiscretion on his part. The Comte de Montausier took charge of the execution, with four or five other gentlemen-executioners, all of whom eventually came to a wretched end. "Wherefore," says Brantôme, "we ought to take great care that we slay no man unjustly; for one scarcely ever hears of such a murder which has not been avenged with the sanction of God, who has put a sword at our side for use, and not to be abused."
"Perrot knew nothing of what happened after that.
"When he came to himself, his first sensation was of bitter cold. Then he collected his thoughts, opened his eyes, and looked about him; it was still profoundly dark. He was lying on the moist earth, and a dead body lay beside him. By the light of the little lamp which is always burning in the recess of the image of the Virgin, he saw that he was in the Cemetery of the Innocents. The body that had been thrown down by his side was that of the guard who had been killed by Monsieur de Montgommery. They had undoubtedly supposed that my husband was dead.
"He tried to rise, but the terrible pain from his wounds prevented him. However, putting all his strength into an almost superhuman effort, he succeeded in standing up and taking a few steps. Just then the black darkness was relieved by the light of a lantern; and Perrot saw two evil-looking men approaching with spades and mattocks.
"'They told us we should find them at the foot of the image of the Virgin,' said one of them.
"'Here are the sparks,' said the other, spying the soldier. 'But, no, there's only one.'
"'Well, we must find the other, then.'
"The two grave-diggers turned the light of their lantern upon the ground near them; but Perrot had made shift to drag himself behind a tomb at some distance from the place where they were looking for him.
"'The Devil must have carried one man off,' remarked one of the men, who seemed to be in a joking mood.
"'In God's name, don't say such things,' cried the other, shuddering, 'at such an hour, and in such a place!'
"And he crossed himself, with every indication of terror.
"'Well, at all events, there's only one here,' said the first who had spoken. 'What's the odds? Bah! we will bury the one that is here, and then say that his friend had escaped; or it may be that they didn't count right.'
"They set about digging a grave; and Perrot, who was tottering away little by little, was glad to hear the jovial digger say to his companion,—
"'It has just occurred to me that if we admit that we found only one body, and dig only one grave, the man will give us only five pistoles, perhaps, instead of ten. Wouldn't it be better for our pockets to say nothing about this extraordinary escape of the second corpse?'
"'Yes, faith!' replied his devout companion. 'Let us content ourselves with saying that we have accomplished our task; and then we shall have told no lie.'
"Meanwhile, Perrot, faint as death, had got as far as Rue Aubry-le-Boucher. There he hailed a market gardener's wagon, returning from market, and asked the driver where he was going.
"'To Montreuil,' was the reply.
"'Then will you be kind enough to give me a lift as far as the corner of Rue Geoffroy L'Asnier and Rue St. Antoine, where I live?'
"'Get in,' said the gardener.
"In this way Perrot made the greater part of the journey to our lodgings without much fatigue; and yet ten times on the way he thought that he was dying. At last the wagon stopped at Rue Geoffroy L'Asnier.
"'Well, here you are at home, my friend,' said the gardener.
"'Thank you, my kind fellow!' said Perrot.
"He got down with much stumbling, and was obliged to lean against the first wall that he came to.
"'My comrade has had a little too much to drink,' remarked the peasant, starting up his horse.
"And away he went, singing the newchansonjust written by Master François Rabelais, the jolly curé of Meudon:—
"'O Dieu, père Paterne,Qui muas l'eau en vin,Fais de mon cul lanternePour luire à mon voisin!'[4]
"'O Dieu, père Paterne,Qui muas l'eau en vin,Fais de mon cul lanternePour luire à mon voisin!'[4]
"It took Perrot an hour to get from Rue St. Antoine to Rue des Jardins. Luckily the January nights are long. He didn't meet a soul, and arrived home about six o'clock.
"My anxiety had kept me all night at the open window, Monseigneur, notwithstanding the cold. At Perrot's first call I rushed to the door and opened it.
"'Not a sound, on your life!' were his first words to me. 'Help me up to my room, but not a cry, not a word!'
"He went upstairs, leaning on my arm; while I, seeing that he was wounded and bleeding, didn't dare to speak, because he had forbidden me, but wept silently. When we finally got to our room, and I had taken off his coat and relieved him of his weapons, the poor soul's blood covered my hands, and I saw the great gaping wounds. He forbade my cry of horror by a stern gesture, and assumed the easiest position possible on the bed.
"'At least, let me call a surgeon, for God's sake!' I sobbed.
"'Useless!' was his answer. 'You know that I have a little skill in surgery. One of my wounds at least—the one just below the neck—is mortal; and I should not be alive now, I think, if something stronger than pain had not sustained me, and if God, who punishes assassins and traitors, had not prolonged my life for a few hours to serve His future plans. Soon the fever will seize me, and all will be over. No physician in the world can prevent that.'
"He spoke with such painful effort that I begged him to rest a little.
"'I must do so,' said he, 'and carefully husband what strength I have. But give me writing materials.'
"I brought what he asked for; but he had not then discovered that a sword-cut had mangled his right hand. At his best it was a hard matter for him to write, so he threw pen and paper aside.
"'Well, then, I must speak,' said he; 'and God will let me live long enough to finish what I have to say. For if it should ever come to pass that He, the just and merciful God, should aim a blow at my master's three enemies, in their omnipotence or in their life, which are the perishable goods of the wicked, then Monsieur de Montgommery may be saved by his son.'
"Then, Monseigneur," continued Aloyse, "Perrot began and told me the whole mournful story which I have fully detailed to you. There were long and frequent interruptions; and when he felt too exhausted to continue, he told me to leave him, and go down and show myself to the people in the house. I pretended, and without much pretence either, to be very anxious about the count and my husband. I sent everybody to make inquiries at the Louvre, and among Monsieur le Comte de Montgommery's friends one by one, and then among his acquaintances. Madame de Poitiers sent word that she had not seen him, and Monsieur de Montmorency that he didn't understand why they came to bother him.
"So all suspicion was diverted from me, as Perrot wished; and his murderers might well believe that their secret was hidden in the master's dungeon and the squire's grave.
"When I had thus put the servants off the scent for some time, and had intrusted you to one of them, Monseigneur Gabriel, I went back to my poor Perrot, who bravely resumed his narrative.
"About midday the fearful agony which had racked him up to that time seemed to abate somewhat. He spoke with less difficulty and with some animation. But as I was taking heart over this improvement, he said to me, smiling mournfully,—
"'This apparent change for the better means simply that the fever is coming on, as I told you it would. But, God be praised! I have finished describing this frightful plot. Now you know what no other but God and these three assassins know; and your loyal heart, always steadfast and strong, will enable you, I am sure, to keep this secret of death and blood until the day when, as I hope and pray, you may reveal it to him who has the right to know it. You have heard the oath that Monsieur de Montgommery required of me; and you must repeat the same oath to me, Aloyse.
"'So long as it is dangerous for Gabriel to know that his father is living,—so long as the three all-powerful enemies who have slain my master shall be left in this world by God's wrath,—do you keep silent, Aloyse. Swear it to your dying husband.'
"Weeping, I swore it; and it is that sacred oath which I am now proving false to, Monseigneur, for your three foes, more powerful and more to be dreaded than ever, are still living. But you were about to die yourself; and if you make a wise and discreet use of my revelation, that which threatens to destroy you may be your father's salvation and yours. But tell me again, Monseigneur, that I have not committed an unpardonable sin, and that because of my good intentions, God and my dear Perrot will forgive my perjury."
"There is no perjury in all this, blessed creature," replied Gabriel; "and there has been throughout your conduct naught but heroic devotion. But tell me the rest! tell me the rest!"
"Perrot," continued Aloyse, "went on to say,—
"'When I shall be no more, dear wife, you will do wisely to close this house, dismiss the servants, and betake yourself to Montgommery with Gabriel and our child. And even at Montgommery don't live in the château, but in our little house; and bring up the heir of the noble counts, if not in absolute secrecy, still without any luxury or display, so that his friends may know him, and his enemies forget him. All our good people down yonder, both the intendant and the chaplain, will assist you in fulfilling the important duty which the Lord has put upon you. It would be much better that Gabriel himself until he is eighteen at least should be ignorant of the name he bears, but should know only that he is of gentle birth. You will see. Our worthy chaplain and Monsieur de Vimoutiers, the child's guardian, will assist you with their advice; but even from these loyal friends you must conceal the tale that I have told you. Confine yourself to saying that you fear that Gabriel may be in danger from his father's powerful enemies.'
"Perrot also gave me all manner of cautions, which he repeated in a thousand different forms until his suffering began again, accompanied by weakness which was no less grievous to look upon; and yet he employed every moment of comparative ease to cheer me up and comfort me.
"He also mentioned to me and made me promise one thing which required by no means the least display of energy on my part, I confess, and was not the least potent cause of suffering to me.
"'In Monsieur de Montmorency's mind,' said he, 'I am buried in the Cemetery of the Innocents; so I must have disappeared with the count. If any sign of my return here should be discovered, you would be lost, Aloyse, and Gabriel too, perhaps! But your arm is strong and your heart is brave. When you have closed my eyes, collect all the strength of your soul and body, wait till the middle of the night when everybody here is sound asleep after the labors of the day, and then take my body down into the old burial-vault of the lords of Brissac, to whom this hotel formerly belonged. No one ever enters that abandoned tomb; and you will find the key to it, all rusty, in the great clothes-press in the count's room. Thus I shall have consecrated burial; and although a simple squire may be unworthy to lie among so many great nobles, still after death we are all nothing but Christians, are we?'
"As my poor Perrot seemed to be growing weaken and insisted on having my word, I promised all that he asked. Toward evening he became delirious, and to that, frightful agony succeeded. I beat my breast in despair at my inability to relieve him; but he made a motion that it was of no avail.
"At last, burning up with fever, and racked by terrible agony, he said,—
"'Aloyse, give me some water,—just a drop.'
"I had already offered, in my ignorance, to give him something to quench the burning thirst from which he said he was suffering, but he had persistently declined it; so I hastened to find a glass, which I handed to him.
"Before he took it, he said,—
"'Aloyse, one last kiss and one last adieu! and remember; remember!'
"I covered his face with kisses and tears. Then he asked me for the crucifix, and placed his dying lips upon the nails of the cross of Jesus, saying only, 'Oh,mon Dieu! oh,mon Dieu!' He pressed my hand with a last trembling grasp, and took the glass which I offered him. He took but one swallow, trembled violently all over, and fell back upon the pillow.
"He was dead.
"I passed the rest of the evening praying and weeping. However, I went, as I usually did, to superintend your retiring, Monseigneur. You can well believe that no one wondered at my grief. Terror reigned in the house; and all the faithful servants were grieving over the probable fate of their master and their good comrade Perrot.
"However, about two in the morning, everything was quiet, and I alone was awake. I washed away the blood with which my husband's body was covered, wrapped it in a cloth, and putting myself in God's hands, I set about taking down the dear burden, which weighed still heavier at my heart than in my arms. When my strength gave out, I knelt by the body and prayed.
"At last, after what seemed an interminable half-hour, I reached the door of the vault. When I opened it, not without considerable difficulty, an icy blast came rushing out and extinguished the lamp which I carried, and almost suffocated me. But I revived speedily, and laid my husband's body in a tomb which was open and empty, and which seemed as if it were waiting to receive him; then having kissed his cold lips once more and for the last time, I let down the heavy marble slab, which separated me forever from the beloved husband of my bosom. The noise of the stone falling upon stone frightened me so that, scarcely taking time to close the door of the vault, I fled like a mad woman, and never stopped until I reached my own room, where I fell upon a chair, completely exhausted. However, it was necessary that I should burn up the bloody cloths and bandages before daybreak, so that they might not betray me. When the first ray of light appeared, my weary task was done, and not a single trace remained of the events of the preceding day and night. I had put everything out of sight with the great care displayed by a criminal who means to leave nothing to bear witness to or to recall his crime.
"But such long and wearisome toil prostrated me completely, and I fell ill. However, it was my duty to live for the sake of the two orphans whom Providence had intrusted to my sole protection; and I did live, Monseigneur."
"Poor woman! poor martyr!" said Gabriel, taking her hand in his.
"A month later," continued the nurse, "I carried you to Montgommery, in obedience to my husband's dying instructions.
"In the sequel it turned out as Monsieur de Montmorency had predicted. The inexplicable disappearance of the Comte de Montgommery and his squire made a noise at court for about a week; then the talk began to die out; and finally, the expected arrival of the Emperor Charles V., who was on his way through France to chastise the people of Ghent, became the universal subject of conversation.
"It was in May of the same year, five months after your father's disappearance, that Diane de Castro was born."
"Yes," rejoined Gabriel, thoughtfully; "and did Madame de Poitiers belong to my father? Did she love the dauphin after him or simultaneously?—sombre questions these, which cannot be answered satisfactorily by the slanderous gossip of an idle court. But my father is alive! He must be alive! And Aloyse, I will find him. There are two men living in me now,—a son and a lover, who will find a way to discover his living tomb."
"God grant it!" said Aloyse.
"And have you learned nothing since, nurse," said Gabriel, "as to the prison where these wretches may have buried my father?"
"Nothing, Monseigneur; and the only clew that we have on that point is the remark of Monsieur de Montmorency as reported by Perrot,—that the governor of the Châtelet was a devoted friend of his, and could be depended upon."
"The Châtelet!" cried Gabriel; "the Châtelet!"
For like a flash of lightning his memory brought before him all at once the gloomy, desolate old man, who might never utter a word, and whom he had seen with such a strange agitation of the heart, in one of the deepest dungeons of the royal prison.
Bursting into tears, Gabriel threw himself into the arms of his faithful and true-hearted nurse.