"Enfin, l'aimera, puis las! le tuera,Dame du roy."
"Enfin, l'aimera, puis las! le tuera,Dame du roy."
And so the prophecy, thus far so faithfully fulfilled, was to be accomplished to the end! Catherine would cause the condemnation and death of him whom she had loved! Gabriel expected it, and was ready for it.
However, the Florentine, thinking perhaps that she might have gone too far, checked herself a moment; and turning with her most gracious manner to the Duc de Guise, who was still silent, she said,—
"But you say nothing, Monsieur de Guise. You are of my opinion, are you not?"
"No, Madame," replied Le Balafré, slowly; "no, I confess that I am not of your opinion, and that is why I said nothing."
"Ah, you too turn against me!" rejoined Catherine, in a hollow, threatening voice.
"I am so unfortunate as to disagree with you in this matter, Madame," said the duke. "However, you see that until now I have been heartily with you, and that in everything concerning the constable and Madame de Valentinois I entirely agreed with your plans."
"Yes, because they served your own," muttered Catherine. "I see it now when it is too late."
"But as for Monsieur de Montgommery," continued Le Balafré, calmly, "I cannot conscientiously share in your feeling, Madame. It seems to me impossible to hold a brave and loyal gentleman answerable for a pure accident. Prosecution would result in a triumph for him, and his accusers would be confounded. And concerning the risks to which, in your opinion, Madame, the lives of our kings would be exposed by an indulgent mode of dealing which prefers to believe in misfortune rather than in crime, why, I am convinced, on the other hand, that the real danger would lie in making the people too familiar with the idea that royal lives are not held in such sacred reverence as they have supposed."
"Doubtless these are very exalted political maxims," retorted Catherine, bitterly.
"I consider them true and in good sense, at all events, Madame," added Le Balafré; "and for all these reasons, and others besides, I am of opinion that what we ought now to do is to apologize to Monsieur de Montgommery for this arbitrary arrest, which happily has been kept secret,—more happily for us than for him; and when our apologies have been accepted, we have only to restore him to the world, free and honorable and honored as he was yesterday, and as he will be to-morrow and forever after. I have spoken."
"Superb!" sneered Catherine.
Turning sharply to the young king, she asked,—
"And does this fine opinion that we have just listened to happen to coincide with yours, my son?"
The demeanor of Mary Stuart, who was bestowing a grateful glance and smile upon the Duc de Guise, left François II. no room for hesitation.
"Yes, Mother," he replied, "I confess that my uncle's opinion is mine."
"And so you betray your father's memory, do you?" retorted Catherine, in a deep voice which she struggled to render unmoved.
"On the other hand, Madame, I respect it," said François. "My father's first words after his wound were to request that Monsieur de Montgommery should not be molested, were they not? And did he not, in one of his rare intervals of consciousness while he lay dying, repeat that request, or rather command? Allow his son, Madame, to obey him."
"Very well! and you thrust aside at the very beginning your mother's devout will—"
"Madame," interrupted the Duc de Guise, "allow me to remind you of your own words, 'only one will in the kingdom.'"
"But I also said, Monsieur, that of the minister should always be subordinate to that of the king," cried Catherine.
"Yes, Madame," observed Mary Stuart, "but you added, the king's will should be enlightened by those persons who are interested only in his glory and his welfare. Now, no one is more interested than I, his wife, in either of those subjects, I fancy; and I advise him, as my uncle De Guise does, to believe rather in the loyalty than in the perfidy of a tried and valiant subject, and not to begin his reign with an iniquitous act."
"Do you yield to such suggestions as these, my son?" Catherine asked once more.
"I yield to the voice of my conscience, Mother," replied the young king, with more firmness than could have been expected of him.
"Is this your last word, François?" continued Catherine. "Be careful! If you refuse your mother the first request that she makes of you; if you thus assume the attitude of an independent master toward her, and act like the docile instrument of others,—you may reign alone, with or without your faithful ministers. I will have nothing more to do with anything that concerns king or kingdom, but I will deprive you of the benefit of my experience and devotion. I will return to my retirement, and abandon you, my son. Consider, consider well!"
"We should deplore her retirement, but would resign ourselves to bear it," murmured Mary Stuart, in a low voice which none but François heard.
But the amorous, imprudent youth, like a faithful echo, repeated aloud,—
"We should deplore your retirement, but would resign ourselves to bear it, Madame."
"Ah, very good!" was all Catherine said.
Then she continued in a voice of suppressed rage, pointing at Gabriel,—
"As for that villain, I shall meet with him again, sooner or later."
"I know it, Madame," replied the young man, whose mind was still dwelling on the horoscope.
But Catherine heard him not.
In a perfect fury of wrath, she included the charming young king and queen and the Duc de Guise in a baleful glance, viperish and awful,—a fatal glance, wherein one might have read the promise of all the crimes dictated by Catherine's ambition and the whole sombre history of the last kings of the Valois line.
Without another word she left the room.
After Catherine de Médicis's departure, there was a moment of silence. The young king seemed amazed at his own hardihood; while Mary, with the keen intuition of affection, could not avoid a shudder at the thought of the queen-mother's last threatening glance. The Duc de Guise was secretly delighted to find himself thus freed from an ambitious and dangerous associate before his first hour of authority was at an end.
Gabriel, who was the occasion of all this trouble, was the first to speak.
"Sire," said he, "and you, Madame, and you also, Monseigneur, I thank you with all my heart for your kind and generous treatment of a poor wretch whom Heaven itself has abandoned. But notwithstanding my profound gratitude, with which my heart is overflowing, I ask you of what use is it to turn aside danger and death from so mournful and hopeless an existence as mine? My life is of no value for any purpose, or to any person, not even myself. For that reason I would not have disputed Madame Catherine's right to take it, because henceforth it is useless to me."
He added sorrowfully in his own mind, "And because it may yet become a nuisance."
"Gabriel," the Duc de Guise rejoined, "your life has been gloriously and worthily lived in the past, and contains equal possibilities for the future. You are a man of vigor and energy, such as are in great request by those who govern empires, and are seldom available."
"Then, too," the sweet and soothing voice of Mary Stuart chimed in, "yours is a great and noble heart, Monsieur de Montgommery. I have known you for a long while, and Madame de Castro and myself have very often talked together about you."
"In short," observed François II., "your past services, Monsieur, justify me in relying upon you for like services in the future. The embers of war, which are now smouldering, may burst into a blaze at any moment, and I do not wish that a momentary despair, whatever be its cause, should deprive the country forever of a defender who is, I am sure, as loyal as he is gallant."
Gabriel listened with a grave and wondering sadness to these kind words of hope and encouragement. He gazed in turn at each of the exalted personages who had addressed them to him, and appeared to be in very deep thought.
"Well," he at last replied, "this unexpected good-will which all of you, who ought perhaps to hate me, thus demonstrate, has changed my heart and my destiny. At your service, Sire, at yours, Madame and Monseigneur, so long as you live, I place the existence of which you have made me a gift, so to speak. I was not born a villain, and your kindness touches me deeply. I was born to be devoted to somebody, to sacrifice myself, and to serve as the instrument of noble ideas and great men,—sometimes a happy, but at others a fatal instrument, alas! as God, in His wrath, knows only too well! But let us speak no more of the gloomy past, since you are good enough to believe in the possibility of a future for me. That future, however, belongs not to me, but to you; and henceforth I cherish what you admire, and think as you think. I abdicate my will. Let the beings and the objects in whom I believe, do with me as they please. My sword, my blood, my life,—all that I am, is theirs. I give my arm unreservedly and irrevocably to assist your genius, Monseigneur, as I devote my soul to religion."
He did not say which religion; but those who heard him were such devoted Catholics that no thought of the Reformed religion entered their minds.
The eloquent abnegation of the young count deeply touched them all. Mary had tears in her eyes; and the king congratulated himself on having been firm enough to rescue such a grateful heart. As for the Duc de Guise, he believed that he knew better than any one how far Gabriel's ardent self-sacrifice might go.
"Yes, my friend," said he, "I have need of you. I shall call upon you some day, in the name of France and the king, to draw the sword you promise us."
"It shall be ready, Monseigneur,—to-morrow, to-day, always!"
"Keep it in its scabbard for the present," said the duke. "As his Majesty has said, peace prevails at the moment,—there is a truce to war and faction. So rest on your sword awhile, Gabriel, and give this unfortunate notoriety which your name has attained of late time to die away. Surely, not a soul of those who are entitled to the name and possess the heart of a gentleman will ever dream of accusing you for your misfortune. But your real glory demands that this undesirable renown should sink into oblivion. Hereafter, say in a year or two, I will ask the king to bestow upon you again the office of captain of the Guards, of which you have never ceased to be worthy."
"Ah," said Gabriel, "it is not honors that I covet, but opportunities to be useful to my king and country, opportunities to fight. I dare not say opportunities to die, for fear that I may seem ungrateful."
"Do not talk so, Gabriel," replied Le Balafré. "Just say that when the king shall call upon you for assistance against his foes, you will respond to the summons without delay."
"I will, Monseigneur, wherever I am, or may be required to go."
"It is well," said the Duc de Guise; "I ask no more than that of you."
"For my part," said François II., "I thank you for your promise, and you may rely upon me to see that you do not repent having redeemed it."
"While I," added Mary Stuart, "assure you that your devotion always will meet with equal confidence on our part, and that you shall be one of those friends from whom we have no secrets, and to whom we will refuse nothing."
The young count, more deeply touched than he chose to confess to himself, bowed, and touched respectfully with his lips the hand which the queen held out to him.
He then pressed the hand of the Duc de Guise, and receiving his dismissal by a kindly gesture from the king, withdrew, being thenceforth bound, by force of a generous action, to the son of the man upon whom he had sworn to be revenged even in the persons of his children.
Gabriel found Admiral de Coligny awaiting him when he reached home.
Aloyse had informed the admiral, who had come to pay a friendly visit to his companion-in-arms at St. Quentin, that her master had been summoned to the Louvre that morning; she had imparted her anxiety to him, and Coligny had determined to remain until the count's return should reassure them both.
He received Gabriel with much cordiality, and questioned him as to what had taken place.
Without going into details, Gabriel merely told him that upon his offering a simple explanation of his connection with the deplorable death of Henri II. he had been dismissed unharmed personally and with his honor unsullied.
"It could not have been otherwise," exclaimed the admiral; "for the whole nobility of France would have protested as one man against any suspicion which would have cast a blot upon the fame of one of its worthiest members."
"Let us drop the subject," said Gabriel, with sorrowful constraint. "I am very glad to see you, Monsieur l'Amiral. You know that I am already at heart a member of your sect, for I have told you and written you to that effect. Since you think that I would not bring discredit upon the faith in which I believe, I not only wish to, but I do now abjure the faith in which I was brought up; your discourse and Master Paré's, the books I have read and my own reflections, have completely convinced me, and I am with you heart and soul."
"Welcome news! and it comes very opportunely," said the admiral.
"I think, however," said Gabriel, "that even in the interest of the Religion itself, it might perhaps be better to keep my conversion secret for a time. As Monsieur de Guise just observed, any sort of notoriety is best avoided for the present. Besides, this delay will conform better with the new duties I have to perform."
"We shall always be proud to announce your name publicly as one of us," said the admiral.
"But my proper course is to decline, or at all events postpone, this priceless token of your esteem," Gabriel replied. "But I do wish to give you this pledge of my utter, immovable faith, and to be able to call myself in my own mind one of your brethren, both in purpose and in fact."
"This is glorious, indeed!" exclaimed Monsieur de Coligny. "All that I ask is your permission to inform the leaders of our party of the notable conquest which our ideas have definitively made."
"Oh, I consent to that with all my heart," said Gabriel. "The Prince de Condé," continued the admiral, "La Renaudie, and Baron de Castelnau, already know you, and appreciate your merit fully."
"Alas! I much fear that they overestimate it; for, viewed in the most favorable light, my merit is very slight."
"No, no!" returned Coligny; "they do well to rely upon it. I know you well also. Besides," continued he, in a lower tone, "we may perhaps have an opportunity to put your new zeal to the proof very soon."
"Indeed!" said Gabriel, in surprise. "You know, Monsieur l'Amiral, that you can rely upon me,—nevertheless, with certain reservations, which I must make known to you."
"Who has not his reservations to make!" rejoined the admiral. "But listen, Gabriel: It was not only as a friend, but as a partisan as well, that I came to visit you to-day. We have spoken of you with the prince and La Renaudie. Even before your definite adhesion to our principles we looked upon you as an auxiliary of peculiar merit, and of impregnable honesty; in fact, we all agreed in regarding you as a man capable of serving us if you chose, but incapable of betraying us, whatever might happen."
"Indeed, I do possess that last qualification, in default of the former," Gabriel replied. "You may always rely upon my word, if not upon my assistance."
"Then we resolved to have no secrets from you," said the admiral. "You will be, like one of our leaders, made acquainted with all our plans, and you will be held to no responsibility except silence. You are not like other men; and exceptional measures must be taken with exceptional men. You will remain quite free, and we only shall be bound."
"Such confidence!" exclaimed Gabriel.
"Your engagement is left entirely to your own discretion, I repeat," said the admiral. "To begin with, let me tell you one fact: the schemes which were revealed to you in the Place Maubert, and which were then postponed, are practicable to-day. The weakness of the young king, the domineering arrogance of the Guises, the purpose of persecuting us which is no longer hidden,—all urge us to action; and we are about to act."
"Pardon me," Gabriel interrupted him; "I have already told you, Monsieur l'Amiral, that I can only give myself to your cause with certain limitations. Before you go any further with your confidences, I ought to tell you definitely that I do not mean to concern myself with the political aspects of the Reformation,—at least during the continuance of the present reign. I freely offer my fortune, my time, and my life to assist in the propagation of our principles and in extending our moral influence; but I have no right to view the movement except in its religious bearing, and in no sense as a party question. François II., Mary Stuart, as well as the Duc de Guise himself, have treated me very generously,—yes, nobly. I will not betray their confidence any more than yours. Allow me to refrain from action, and occupy myself only with the principle for which we strive. Demand my testimony whenever you please; but I reserve the independence of my sword."
Monsieur de Coligny replied, after a moment's reflection,—
"My words, Gabriel, were not mere empty sounds. You are and shall still be quite free. Go on alone in your own path if you please; act independently of us or not at all. We shall never call you to account. We know," he added, with a significant expression, "that it is sometimes your way to prefer to dispense with associates or advisers."
"What do you mean?" asked Gabriel, in surprise.
"I know what I mean," replied the admiral. "For the present you ask that you may take no part in our conspiracies against the royal authority. So be it! Our duty will be done when we have given you notice of our movements and purposes. Then you may follow us or stand apart; that is your affair, and yours only. You will always know, either by letter or messenger, when and where we have need of you, and then you will act as seems good to you. If you come to us, you will always be welcome; if you stay away, no one will have any fault to find. Such is the agreement to which the leaders of the party have come concerning you, even before you had told me where you stood. You can accept such conditions, I should think."
"Indeed, I do accept them; and I thank you heartily," said Gabriel.
During the night which followed that eventful day, Gabriel, kneeling before his father's tomb in the mortuary vault of the counts of Montgommery, communed with his dead in these words:—
"Yes, my Father, I did indeed take oath not only to punish your murderer in his own lifetime, but also to visit his sins upon his children after him. There is no doubt of it, O my Father, no doubt! But I did not anticipate what has happened. Are there not obligations even more sacred than the fulfilment of an oath? What duty can compel one to strike down an enemy who puts the sword in one's hand, and presents his bare breast to receive the blow? If you were living, my Father, I am sure you would advise me to postpone my wrath, and not to meet confidence with treachery. Forgive me, then, from the grave, for doing what if you were living you would require me to do. Moreover, something seems to tell me that my vengeance is merely suspended, and that but for a short time. You know on high what we can only feel a presentiment of here below. But the pallor of this sickly king, and the frightful glance with which his mother threatened him, and the predictions (which have thus far proved accurate, and which decree that my own life must fall a prey to that woman's rancorous hatred), and the conspiracies already set on foot against the reign which began only yesterday,—all combine to lead me to think it probable that the boy of sixteen will occupy the throne for a much less time even than the man of forty, and that I shall very soon be able to resume my task and my oath of expiation, my Father, under the reign of another of the sons of Henri II."
Seven or eight months passed by, unmarked by any important occurrences either for the personages of this story, or for the actors upon the stage of history.
Nevertheless, during that time events of considerable importance were preparing.
To understand what they were, and learn all about them, we have only to pay a visit, on the 25th of February, 1560, to the place of all others where news is supposed to be most plentiful; that is to say, the cabinet of Monsieur le Lieutenant de Police, who was at that time one Monsieur de Braguelonne.
On the evening of the 25th of February, Monsieur de Braguelonne, lounging carelessly on his Cordova leather couch, was listening to the report of Master Arpion, one of his secretaries.
Master Arpion was reading aloud as follows,—
"To-day the notorious thief, Gilles Rose, was arrested in the great hall of the palace, in the act of cutting off the end of a golden girdle, on the person of a canon of Ste. Chapelle."
"To-day the notorious thief, Gilles Rose, was arrested in the great hall of the palace, in the act of cutting off the end of a golden girdle, on the person of a canon of Ste. Chapelle."
"A canon of Ste. Chapelle! Well, upon my word!" exclaimed Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"It was a very sacrilegious performance," observed Master Arpion.
"And very clever, too," replied the lieutenant of police, "very clever! for your canon is a suspicious mortal. I will tell you presently, Master Arpion, what must be done with this cunning thief. Go on."
"The demoiselles of the hovels in the Rue du Grand-Heuleu," continued Arpion, "are in a state of open revolt."
"The demoiselles of the hovels in the Rue du Grand-Heuleu," continued Arpion, "are in a state of open revolt."
"For what cause, in God's name?"
"They claim to have addressed a petition directly to our lord the king, asking to be allowed to retain their establishments, and meanwhile they have had an encounter with the watch and put them to rout."
"That is very amusing!" laughed Monsieur de Braguelonne. "We can easily set that to rights. Poor girls! Is there anything else?"
Master Arpion continued,—
"Messieurs les Deputés de la Sorbonne having presented themselves at Madame la Princesse de Condé's house at Paris, to insist that she should not eat flesh during Lent, were received with jeers and derision by Monsieur de Sechelles, who said to them, among other insulting things, that he liked them less than a boil on his nose, and that such calves as they made strange ambassadors."
"Messieurs les Deputés de la Sorbonne having presented themselves at Madame la Princesse de Condé's house at Paris, to insist that she should not eat flesh during Lent, were received with jeers and derision by Monsieur de Sechelles, who said to them, among other insulting things, that he liked them less than a boil on his nose, and that such calves as they made strange ambassadors."
"Ah, that is a serious matter!" said the lieutenant, rising. "Refusing to abstain from meat, and poking fun at Messieurs de la Sorbonne! This tends to swell your account, Madame de Condé; and when we present you with the total—Arpion, is that all?"
"Mon Dieu, yes! for to-day. Monseigneur has not told me what to do with this Gilles Rose."
"In the first place," said Monsieur de Braguelonne, "you will take him, together with the most adroit pickpockets and burglars you can find in the prison, and send the whole lot of fine fellows to Blois, where they can have an opportunity to exhibit their tricks and cleverness for the king's entertainment during the fêtes which are being arranged for his Majesty."
"But, Monseigneur, suppose they retain the articles they have stolen in fun?"
"Then they shall be hung."
At this moment an usher entered and announced,—
"Monsieur le Inquisiteur de la Foi!"
Master Arpion did not need to be told to withdraw, He bowed respectfully and left the room.
The man who was ushered in was, in fact, a notable and formidable personage.
To his every-day titles of Doctor of the Sorbonne and Canon of Noyon, he added the extraordinary and high-sounding appellation of 'Grand Inquisitor of the Faith in France.' And in order that he might bear a name as sonorous as his title, he called himself Démocharès, although he was really plain Antoine de Mouchy. The people had christened his subordinatesmouchards,—police spies.
"Good-evening, Monsieur le Lieutenant de Police," said the grand inquisitor.
"The same to you, Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur," responded the lieutenant.
"Any news in Paris?"
"I was just about to ask you that very question."
"That means that there is none," observed Démocharès, with a profound sigh. "Ah, these are hard times! There is nothing going on,—no conspiracies, and no crime at all! What cowardly wretches these Huguenots are! Our profession has a decided grievance against them, Monsieur de Braguelonne!"
"No, no!" replied Monsieur de Braguelonne, emphatically. "No, governments change, but the police remains."
"Nevertheless," retorted Monsieur de Mouchy, bitterly, "see what the result has been of our descent upon the main army of the Reformers in the Rue des Marais. By surprising them at table in the midst of their dinner, we hoped to take them in the act of eating pork in the guise of the paschal lamb, as you had told us; but the only result of that magnificent expedition was one poor little larded chicken. Can such exploits as that reflect much credit upon your organization, Monsieur le Lieutenant de Police?"
"One can't always succeed," said Monsieur de Braguelonne. "Were you any more fortunate yourself, in the matter of the advocate of Place Maubert,—Trouillard, was it not? Yet you expected great things of it."
"I admit it," said Démocharès, piteously.
"You expected to prove as clearly as the day," continued Monsieur de Braguelonne, "that this Trouillard had abandoned his two daughters to the tender mercies of his fellow-enthusiasts after a frightful orgy; but, behold! the witnesses whom you had bought at such a high price suddenly retracted everything and gave you the lie."
"The traitors!" muttered De Mouchy.
"More than that," said the lieutenant, pitilessly pursuing his advantage, "I received reports from various sources, all of which went to show that the virtue of the two young girls was without a stain."
"It was infamous," grumbled Démocharès.
"A bad failure, Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur de la Foi, a bad failure!" repeated Monsieur de Braguelonne, with much complacency.
"Well," cried Démocharès, impatiently, "if the affair did miscarry, it was all your fault!"
"What, my fault!" ejaculated the amazed lieutenant.
"To be sure. You content yourself with reports and retractations, and such nonsense. Of what consequence are these repulses and contradictions? We must go ahead all the same, and boldly accuse the villains as if we had met no rebuff at all."
"What! without proofs?"
"Yes, and convict them."
"When they have committed no crime?"
"Yes, and hang them."
"Without judges?"
"Yes, a hundred times yes! Without judge or crime or proof! There's no great merit in hanging only those who are really guilty."
"But what an outcry of rage there will be against us then!" said Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"Ah! that is what I expected you would say," rejoined Démocharès, triumphantly. "That is the very corner-stone of my whole system, Monsieur. For what does this rage of which you speak lead to? Conspiracy. What is the outcome of conspiracy? Revolution. And what is the principal result of revolution? Why, to make your office and mine of very great importance and utility."
"To be sure, from that point of view!" said Monsieur de Braguelonne, laughing.
"Ah, Monsieur," observed Démocharès, with the air of a master, "remember this principle, 'In order to reap crimes we must first sow them.' Persecution is a very great force."
"Well, I must say," rejoined the lieutenant, "that it seems to me we have not been behindhand in that direction since the beginning of this reign. It would be difficult to stir up and provoke the discontented of all sorts more than we have done."
"Pshaw! what have we done?" asked the grand inquisitor, scornfully.
"Well, in the first place, do you consider the daily domiciliary visits and despoiling of all the Huguenots, innocent or guilty, of no account?"
"My faith! yes, I consider them of absolutely no account," was Démocharès's reply; "for you see with what tranquil patience they bear these annoyances, which are altogether too trifling."
"And the punishment of Anne Dubourg, nephew of a chancellor of France, who was burned two months since in the Place de Grève,—was that nothing?"
"It was a very small thing," said the fastidious De Mouchy. "What was the result of it? The murder of President Minard, one of his judges, and an apocryphal conspiracy of which we never, succeeded in finding any traces. So that was nothing to make a very great amount of talk about."
"Well, what do you say to the last edict?" asked Monsieur de Braguelonne,—"the last edict, which strikes, not at the Huguenots alone, but at the whole nobility of the kingdom. For my own part, I said frankly to Monsieur le Cardinal de Lorraine that I thought it went a little too far."
"Are you speaking of the ordinance suppressing pensions?" said Démocharès.
"No, indeed, but of the one which requires all suitors, whether of high or low birth, to quit the court within twenty-four hours, under pain of being hanged. You must agree that to decree the halter for gentlemen and clowns alike is rather severe, and likely to lead to trouble."
"Yes, the order does not lack audacity," said Démocharès, with a smile of satisfaction. "Fifty years ago such an edict would, I confess, have excited the whole nobility to revolt. But now you see they only complain, and do nothing overt. Not one of them has raised a hand."
"That's where you are mistaken, Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur," said Braguelonne, lowering his voice; "and though they may not be stirring at Paris, there is trouble brewing in the Provinces."
"Aha!" cried De Mouchy, eagerly, "you have some intelligence of that sort?"
"Not yet, but I expect it every moment."
"From what quarter?"
"From the Loire."
"Have you agents there?"
"Only one, but he is a good one."
"Only one? that's very risky," remarked Démocharès, with a very knowing air.
"I much prefer, myself," replied Monsieur de Braguelonne, "to pay a single trustworthy man, who is at once intelligent and reliable, the price of twenty stupid rascals. That is my way; what do you think?"
"Oh, that's all very well; but who is responsible to you for this man?"
"Well, his head in the first place; and then his past services, too, for he has been put to the proof."
"Never mind; it's very risky," persisted Démocharès. Master Arpion came softly in while Monsieur de Mouchy was speaking, and whispered in his master's ear.
"Aha!" cried the lieutenant, triumphantly. "Very well! Arpion, introduce Lignières at once. Yes, while Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur is here; for is he not one of us?"
Arpion saluted and withdrew.
"This Lignières is the very man of whom I was speaking to you," continued Monsieur de Braguelonne, rubbing his hands. "You shall hear what he says. He has just arrived from Nantes. We have no secrets from each other, have we?—and I am very glad to have an opportunity to prove to you that my way is as good as another."
At this point Master Arpion opened the door to Lignières.
It was the selfsame little fellow, lean and hungry-looking, whose acquaintance we have already made at the Protestant meeting in the Place Maubert,—the same who had so boldly exhibited the republican medal, and prated about decapitated lilies and crowns trodden under foot.
Thus we may see that even if the name of instigating agent (agent provocateur) had not come into use at that time, the article itself was in a flourishing condition.
Lignières, as he entered the room, cast a look of cold distrust upon Démocharès, and after he had saluted Monsieur de Braguelonne, remained cautiously silent and motionless, waiting to be questioned.
"I am delighted to see you, Monsieur Lignières," was Monsieur de Braguelonne's greeting. "You may speak with perfect freedom before Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur de la Foi en France."
"Oh, to be sure!" Lignières made haste to exclaim; "and if I had had any idea that I was in the presence of the illustrious Démocharès, pray believe, Monseigneur, that I should not have hesitated as I have."
"Very well!" said De Mouchy, nodding his head approvingly, and evidently much flattered by the spy's respectful deference.
"Come, speak, Monsieur Lignières!—waste no time," said the lieutenant of police.
"But it may be," suggested Lignières, "that Monsieur is not thoroughly conversant with what took place at the last meeting but one held by the Protestants at La Ferté?"
"In fact, I know very little about it," replied Démocharès.
"Then if I may," added Lignières, "I will briefly recount the serious facts which I have gathered recently; that course will be better, and make what comes after more readily understood."
Monsieur de Braguelonne gave the signal of assent, for which Lignières was waiting. This little delay was doubtless annoying to the impatient lieutenant; but it also flattered his pride by affording an opportunity of showing off to the grand inquisitor the superior capacity and extraordinary eloquence of the agent he had chosen.
It is certain that Démocharès was not only surprised, but that he felt the delight of a skilful connoisseur who recognizes a more unexceptionable and perfect instrument than he has himself previously possessed.
Lignières, much excited by this appreciation in such a high quarter, tried to show himself worthy of it, and his performance was really very fine.
"That first assemblage at La Ferté was really not of very much importance," he began. "There was nothing done or said that was not very insipid; and it was to no purpose that I proposed overthrowing his Majesty, and establishing in France a constitution like that in vogue among the Swiss cantons; my suggestions found no echo but insulting remarks. It was only provisionally determined to present a petition to the king, praying that there might be an end to the persecutions of the Reformers, and that the Guises should be dismissed, a ministry formed, headed by the princes of the blood, and the States-General be convoked forthwith. Simply a petition!—a very meagre result that. However, they made an accurate computation of their numbers and effected an organization; that is something tangible. Then the matter of choosing leaders came up. So long as it was only a question of the subordinate leaders in the different districts there was no trouble; but the commander-in-chief, the head and front of the conspiracy,—that is where the difficulty began. Monsieur de Coligny and the Prince de Condé declined through their respective mouthpieces the dangerous honor which it was proposed to confer upon one or the other of them. It would be much better, so we were told in their behalf, to select some Huguenot who occupied a less lofty position, so that the movement might bear a more unmistakable stamp of its popular character,—a fine excuse for the simpletons! However, they were content with it; and after much debate they finally elected Godefroid de Barry, Seigneur de la Renaudie."
"La Renaudie!" Démocharès repeated the name. "Yes, he is in fact one of the ardent ringleaders of these scoundrels. I know him to be an energetic and resolute man."
"You will soon know him for a Catiline!" said Lignières.
"Oh, ho!" said the lieutenant of police; "I think that is going a little too far."
"You will see," returned the spy,—"you will see if I am going too far! I come now to our second convocation, which met at Nantes the 5th of this month of February."
"Aha!" cried Démocharès and Braguelonne together.
Both moved closer to Master Lignières, with eager curiosity.
"That was the time," said Lignières, bursting with importance, "when they no longer confined themselves to mere talk. Listen! Shall I give your Lordships at length all the details and the proofs, or shall I hasten at once to the results?" added the villain, as if he wished to continue to hold their two hearts dependent on his words as long as possible.
"Give us the facts—the facts!" cried the lieutenant, impatiently.
"Very well, then, and you will shudder when you hear them. After some unimportant preliminary speechmaking, La Renaudie took the floor; and this, in substance, is what he said: 'Last year, when the Queen of Scotland desired to try the ministers at Stirling, all their parishioners determined to follow them to that place; and although they were unarmed, this extensive movement was quite sufficient to frighten the regent and induce her to forego the violent measures she had meditated. I propose that here in France we begin in like manner,—that a great multitude of those of our belief should make their way to Blois, where the king is living for the moment, and should present themselves without arms before his Majesty, and hand him a petition wherein he will be implored to recall the edicts of persecution, and allow the Reformers the free exercise of their religion; and since their secret meetings in the night-time have been falsely slandered, he will be asked to permit them to assemble in their places of worship under the eyes of the constituted authorities.'"
"Well, well, always the same thing!" Démocharès interrupted, in a tone of disappointment. "Peaceful and respectful demonstrations, which amount to nothing! Petitions! protests! supplications! Is this the awe-inspiring news you had to give us, Master Lignières?"
"Oh, wait,—just wait!" replied Lignières. "You can understand that I cried down this innocent proposition of La Renaudie's just as you do,—nay, even more than you. To what, I asked, had such purposeless steps led before, or to what could they be expected to lead? Others of the Protestants spoke in the same strain. Thereupon La Renaudie, with much satisfaction, disclosed the true inwardness of his heart, and betrayed the audacious scheme which lay hidden beneath his innocent words."
"Let us hear this audacious scheme," said Démocharès, with the air of a man not easily to be astonished.
"It is well worth the trouble of frustrating, I think," continued Lignières. "While men's minds are occupied with the mob of timid, unarmed petitioners, who approach the throne as suppliants, five hundred horsemen and a thousand foot,—you understand, Messieurs, fifteen hundred men,—selected from among the noblemen who are most determined and most devoted to the Reformation and to the princes, are to come together from the various provinces, under thirty chosen leaders, to advance quietly upon Blois by different roads, enter the town, with or without force,—with or without force, I say,—carry off the king, the queen-mother, and Monsieur de Guise, and bring them to trial, and fill their places with the princes of the blood, leaving it for the States-General to decide upon the form of government which shall finally be adopted. There, Messieurs, is the plot. What do you say to it? Is it a childish one? Should it be passed by without being noticed? In short, am I good for nothing, or am I useful to some extent?"
He came to an end with an expression of triumph. The grand inquisitor and the lieutenant exchanged glances of surprise, not unmixed with alarm. There was a long pause, during which their minds were busy with reflections of various descriptions.
"By the Mass, but this is admirable, I declare!" cried Démocharès, at last.
"Say rather that it is terrible," observed Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"We shall see; we shall see!" continued the grand inquisitor, shaking his head very knowingly.
"Why," said Monsieur de Braguelonne, "we only know the schemes which this La Renaudie avows; but it is very easy to guess that nothing will come of them; that Messieurs de Guise will be on their guard; that they will all be cut in pieces; and that if his Majesty intrusts the power to the Prince de Condé, it will only be by force."
"But we are forewarned!" returned Démocharès. "All that these poor fools mean to do against us will turn against themselves, and they will fall into their own trap. I promise you that Monsieur le Cardinal will be delighted, and would have paid a high price for such an opportunity of making an end of his enemies."
"God grant that he may continue to be delighted to the end!" said Monsieur de Braguelonne.
Addressing Lignières, who had now become a man to be treated well, an invaluable ally, and of great consequence, he said,—
"As for you, Monsieur le Marquis," (the rascal was really a marquis) "you have rendered a most valuable service to his Majesty and to the State. You shall be worthily rewarded for it, never fear!"
"Yes, my word for it!" added Démocharès; "you deserve a handsome reward, Monsieur, and you possess all my esteem! To you, also, Monsieur de Braguelonne, my sincere congratulations upon your choice of agents. Ah, Monsieur de Lignières has a claim to my highest consideration, in truth!"
"That is a very generous recompense for what little I have been able to do," said Lignières, bowing modestly.
"You know that we are not ungrateful, Monsieur de Lignières," continued the lieutenant. "But come, you have not told us everything, have you? Did they fix a time, or a place of rendezvous?"
"They are to meet in the neighborhood of Blois on the 15th of March," replied Lignières.
"The 15th of March! Well, well!" exclaimed Monsieur de Braguelonne. "We have only twenty days before us, and Monsieur le Cardinal de Lorraine is at Blois! It will take about two days to notify him and receive his orders. What a responsibility!"
"But what a triumph at the end!" said Démocharès.
"Have you the names of the leaders, dear Monsieur de Lignières?" asked the lieutenant.
"Yes, I have them written down," was the reply.
"What a jewel of a man!" exclaimed Démocharès, admiringly. "He helps to reconcile me to human nature."
Lignières unbuttoned an inner pocket in his doublet, and drew from it a scrap of paper, and having unfolded it, he read aloud as follows:—
"List of the leaders, with the names of the provinces which they respectively command:—"Castelnau de Chalosses,—Gascogne."Mazères,—Béarn."Du Mesnil,—Périgord."Maillé de Brézé,—Poitou."La Chesnaye,—Maine."Sainte-Marie,—Normandie."Cocqueville,—Picardie."De Ferrières-Maligny,—Île de France and Champagne."Châteauvieux,—Provence, etc.
"List of the leaders, with the names of the provinces which they respectively command:—
"Castelnau de Chalosses,—Gascogne.
"Mazères,—Béarn.
"Du Mesnil,—Périgord.
"Maillé de Brézé,—Poitou.
"La Chesnaye,—Maine.
"Sainte-Marie,—Normandie.
"Cocqueville,—Picardie.
"De Ferrières-Maligny,—Île de France and Champagne.
"Châteauvieux,—Provence, etc.
"You can read that list and make your comments upon it at your leisure, Monsieur," said Lignières, handing the treacherous paper to the lieutenant.
"This is nought but organized civil war!" exclaimed Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"Take notice too," added Lignières, "that while these detachments are making their way toward Blois, other leaders in each province are to hold themselves in readiness to put down any movement that may be attempted in behalf of Messieurs de Guise."
"Good! We will have them all as in a great net!" said Démocharès, rubbing his hands. "Why, you seem overwhelmed, Monsieur de Braguelonne! After the first feeling of surprise, I declare that, for my own part, I should be very sorry if all this had not taken place."
"But just see how little time we have left!" observed the lieutenant. "In truth, my good Lignières, while I would not for the world reproach, I must say that since the 5th of February you have had time enough to notify me."
"How could I?" asked Lignières. "I was intrusted by La Renaudie with more than twenty commissions between Nantes and Paris. And not only have I succeeded in gleaning some valuable information, but to have neglected or postponed his commissions would have been to arouse suspicion, while to write you a letter or send a messenger would have been to compromise our secrets."
"Very true," said Monsieur de Braguelonne, "you are always right. Let us say no more about what is done, but consider what there remains to do. You have told us nothing of the Prince de Condé. Was he not with you at Nantes?"
"He was there," Lignières replied. "But before taking any decided step he wished to consult Chaudieu and the English ambassador, and so he said that he would accompany La Renaudie to Paris for that purpose."
"Is he coming to Paris, then? And is La Renaudie also coming?"
"Better than that; they ought both to be here ere this." said Lignières.
"And where do they lodge?" asked Monsieur de Braguelonne, eagerly.
"That I can't tell you. I took pains to ask, in a careless way, where I might find our leader if I had any communication to make; but they only gave me an indirect channel of correspondence. La Renaudie probably does not wish to compromise the prince."
"That is a great pity, I must admit," reflected the lieutenant. "We shall have difficulty in finding traces of them."
At this moment Master Arpion entered once more with his soft and mysterious tread.
"Well, what is it, Arpion?" asked Monsieur de Braguelonne, sharply. "You knew very well that we were engaged with important business, and why the devil do you interrupt us?"
"I should not have ventured to enter unless for something of equal importance," replied Arpion.
"Well, what is it? Tell me quickly, and aloud; for we are all friends here."
"A man named Pierre des Avenelles—" began Arpion.
De Braguelonne, Démocharès, and Lignières exclaimed simultaneously,—
"Pierre des Avenelles!"
"That's the advocate of the Rue des Marmousets, who ordinarily entertains the Protestants at Paris," said Démocharès.
"And upon whose house I have long had my eye," added De Braguelonne. "But the good man is very sly and careful, and has always eluded my surveillance. What does he want, Arpion?"
"To speak with Monseigneur at once," replied the secretary. "He seems to me to be in a state of great alarm."
"He cannot know anything," said Lignières, quickly and jealously. "Besides," he added, with lofty scorn, "he is an honest man."
"We shall see; we shall see!" observed the grand inquisitor. (That was his favorite expression.)
"Arpion," Monsieur de Braguelonne said to the secretary, "show this man in immediately."
"I will, Monseigneur," said Arpion, leaving the room.
"Pardon me, my dear Marquis," continued De Braguelonne, addressing Lignières, "this Des Avenelles knows you, and the unexpected sight of you might disturb him. And then, too, neither you nor I would care to have him know you were one of us. Be good enough to step into Arpion's closet while this interview is in progress; it is there at the end of the passage. I will recall you as soon as we have done with him. You might remain, if you will, Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur, for your imposing presence cannot fail to be useful."
"Very well; I will remain to please you," said Démocharès, well content.
"And I will withdraw," said Lignières; "but remember what I say, Monsieur le Lieutenant. You will not learn anything of importance from this fellow Des Avenelles. A poor fool! A timid but upright soul! But of no particular account,—of no account at all."
"We will do the best we can. But go, go, my dear Lignières! here is our man."
In fact, Lignières had but just time to make his escape when a man entered, pale and trembling with nervous excitement, escorted, indeed, almost carried, by Master Arpion.
It was Pierre des Avenelles, the advocate, whom we first-met with Sieur Lignières, at the meeting in the Place Maubert, where he made the success of the evening, if our readers remember, with his courageously timid speech.
On the occasion of this, our second meeting with Pierre des Avenelles, he was all timidity, and had lost his courage.
After bowing to the floor before Démocharès and De Braguelonne, he began in a faltering voice,—
"I am, I presume, in the presence of Monsieur le Lieutenant de Police?"
"And of Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur de la Foi," added De Braguelonne, waving his hand toward De Mouchy.
"Oh, Holy Virgin!" cried poor Des Avenelles, turning still paler if that were possible. "Messeigneurs, you see, being a very great culprit,—alas! one who has been too guilty,—may I hope for mercy? I know not. Can my sincere wish to atone for my sins help me to lighten their punishment? It is for your clemency to reply."
Monsieur de Braguelonne saw at once with what manner of man he had to do.
"To confess is not sufficient," he said harshly; "there must be reparation as well."
"Oh, there shall be, Monseigneur, if I can accomplish it!" returned Des Avenelles.
"Very well; but in order to accomplish it," continued the lieutenant, "you must have it in your power to be of some service to us, or to give us some valuable information."
"I will try to do so," said the advocate, almost choked with terror.
"It will be very difficult," retorted De Braguelonne, carelessly, "for we already know all there is to know."
"What! you know—"
"Everything, I tell you; and in this pass to which you have brought yourself your tardy repentance will hardly avail to save your head, I promise you."
"My head! Oh, Heaven! My head in danger? Yet I have come—"
"Too late," said the inflexible De Braguelonne. "You cannot now be of any use to us, and we know in advance everything that you can tell us."
"Perhaps not," said Des Avenelles. "Excuse my question, but what do you know?"
"In the first place, that you are one of these damned heretics," interposed Démocharès, in a voice of thunder.
"Alas, alas! that is only too true!" replied Des Avenelles. "Yes, I am of the Religion,—why, I'm sure I have no idea; but I will abjure it, Monseigneur, if you will only spare my life. The meeting-house is surrounded by too many perils, and I will go back to Mass."
"That is not all," said Démocharès; "you are in the habit of entertaining Huguenots at your house."
"No one has ever been able to find one in any of their visitations," returned the advocate, eagerly.
"Very true," said Monsieur de Braguelonne; "for you probably have some secret exit from your house,—some hidden passage, some as yet unknown means of communication with the outer world. But one of these days we will not leave one stone of your house standing on another, and it will be forced to yield us its secret."
"I will give it up to you myself," said the advocate; "for I admit, Monseigneur, that I have at times furnished board and lodging to those of the Religion. They pay well; and my profession is so unremunerative! One must live! But it shall never happen again; and if my abjuration is accepted, no Huguenot will ever dare to knock at my door again."
"You have also spoken frequently at the Protestant meetings," continued Démocharès.
"I am an advocate," whined Des Avenelles. "Besides, I have always spoken in favor of moderate measures. You ought to know that, since you know everything."
Summoning courage to raise his eyes to these two forbidding personages, Des Avenelles went on,—
"But, asking your pardon, it seems to me that you do not know everything; for you speak only about me, and have nothing to say about the affairs of the party in general, which are in truth of vast moment. Therefore I am glad to see that there are many things of which you still know nothing."
"That is just where you are mistaken," retorted the lieutenant; "and we will prove it to you."
Démocharès motioned him to be careful.
"I understand you, Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur," said he; "but there can be no imprudence in showing our hand to Monsieur, for Monsieur will not leave this place for a long time to come."
"What! not leave here for a long time?" cried Pierre des Avenelles, in affright.
"No, certainly not," coolly remarked Monsieur de Braguelonne. "Do you imagine, pray, that under color of coming here to make revelations, you will be allowed at your ease to observe our position, and assure yourself as to the extent of our information, and then go and report everything to your accomplices? That won't do, my dear Monsieur; and you are our prisoner from this moment."
"Prisoner!" Des Avenelles repeated the word as if overwhelmed at the thought; but upon reflection he adopted a different tone. Our man, we remember, had the courage of cowardice in the highest degree.
"Oh, well,—in fact, I much prefer it so!" he cried. "I am much safer here with you than I should be at home, in the midst of all their plot-hatching. And since you have determined to keep me here, Monsieur le Lieutenant, you will have no scruples now about consenting to reply to some of my respectful questions. In my humble opinion, you are not so thoroughly well informed as you believe, and I think I may find some way of proving my good faith and my loyalty by some valuable revelation."
"Hum! I much doubt it," replied Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"In the first place, what do you know about the latest meetings of the Huguenots, Monseigneur?" asked the advocate.
"Do you mean the one held at Nantes?" said the lieutenant.
"Ah! do you know that? Very well! Yes, the one held at Nantes. What took place there?"
"Do you refer to the conspiracy that was formed there?" rejoined Monsieur de Braguelonne, slyly.
"Alas, yes! I see that I can tell you nothing of consequence on that subject," replied Des Avenelles. "That conspiracy—"
"Has for its object to carry off the king from Blois, substitute the princes for Messieurs de Guise by force, convoke the States-General, etc. All this is ancient history, my dear Monsieur des Avenelles, for it happened way back on the 5th of February."
"And the conspirators who feel so sure of their secret!" exclaimed the advocate. "They are lost, and myself with them; for doubtless you know the leaders of the conspiracy?"
"The secret leaders as well as the avowed ones. The former are the Prince de Condé and the admiral; while the avowed leaders are La Renaudie, Castelnau, Mazères—But it would take too long to enumerate them all. See, here is a list of their names, and of the provinces as well which they are respectively expected to incite to rebellion."
"Great God of mercy! How skilful are the police, and what fools the conspirators!" cried Des Avenelles. "Is there not, then, the least little word which I can tell you, which you do not already know? The Prince de Condé and La Renaudie, for instance,—do you know where they are?"
"Together in Paris."
"Why, this is frightful! And there is nothing left for me to do but to commend my soul to God! Yet, stay!—one word more, in pity's name! Whereabouts in Paris are they?"
Monsieur de Braguelonne did not immediately reply, but with his clear and piercing glance seemed to be reading Des Avenelles's soul and his eyes to their lowest depths.
The latter, with labored breath, repeated his question,—"Do you know in what part of Paris the Prince de Condé and La Renaudie now are, Monseigneur?"
"We shall have no difficulty in finding them," replied Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"But you haven't found them yet!" cried Des Avenelles, with delight. "Ah! God be praised! I may still win my pardon.Iknow where they are, Monseigneur."
Démocharès's eye glistened; but the lieutenant of police concealed his satisfaction.
"Pray, where are they?" he said in the most indifferent tone imaginable.
"At my house, Messieurs, at my house!" said the advocate, proudly.
"I knew it," calmly replied Monsieur de Braguelonne. "What do you say,—you knew that, too?" ejaculated Des Avenelles, whose cheeks lost their color again.
"To be sure I did; but I wished to test your good faith. Come, it is all right, and I am content with you! Your case was a very serious one, to say the least. To think of having sheltered such great villains!"
"You made yourself quite as guilty as they," said Démocharès, sententiously.
"Oh, don't say so, Monseigneur!" rejoined Des Avenelles. "I feared I was incurring great risks, and I have hardly dared to breathe since I have known the horrible plans of my two guests. But I have known them only three days,—only three days, I solemnly swear! You should know that I was not present at the Nantes gathering. When the Prince de Condé and the Seigneur de la Renaudie arrived at my house in the early part of this week, I believed myself to be harboring adherents of the Reformed religion, but not conspirators. I have a holy horror of conspirators and conspiracies! They said nothing to me on the subject at first; and it is that for which I am angry with them. Thus to expose to deadly peril, without his knowledge, a poor fellow who had never done them aught but good turns,—that was very wrong. But these great personages never do otherwise."
"What's that?" was Monsieur de Braguelonne's sharp retort,—for he considered himself a very great man indeed.
"I refer to the great personages of the Reformed religion," the advocate made haste to explain. "However, they began by keeping everything from me; but they were whispering together all day long, and writing day and night; visits they received every minute. I watched and listened; in short, I guessed at the beginning of the plot, so that they were obliged to tell me everything,—their meeting at Nantes, their great conspiracy; in fact, all this that you know, and which they thought so carefully concealed. But since that revelation I have not been able to sleep or eat; I have just existed. Every time that anybody came to my house—and God knows how often people have come there!—I would imagine that they had come to carry me before the judges. During the night, in my rare moments of feverish sleep, I dreamed of nothing but courts and scaffolds and executioners, and I would awake bathed in a cold perspiration, to begin again my unceasing attempts to foresee and estimate the risk I was running."
"The risk you were running, did you say?" said Monsieur de Braguelonne. "Why, prison in the first place—"
"And torture in the second," added Démocharès.
"To be followed probably by hanging," said the lieutenant.
"Or the stake, possibly," continued the grand inquisitor.
"The wheel has been known to be used in such cases," the lieutenant put in, as a suitably effective end to the list.
"Imprisoned! tortured! hanged! burned alive! broken on the wheel!" Poor Des Avenelles repeated every word as if he had actually undergone each of the punishments they enumerated.
"Dame! You are an advocate, and should know the law," retorted Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"Indeed, I know it only too well!" cried Des Avenelles. "Therefore, after three days of mortal anguish, I could restrain myself no longer: I felt that such a secret was too heavy a burden for my responsibility, and I came to deposit it in your hands, Monsieur le Lieutenant de Police."
"That was the safest course to pursue," replied Monsieur de Braguelonne; "and although, as you see, your revelation is of no great service to us, still we will take your good intentions into consideration."
He talked for some moments in a low tone with De Mouchy, who seemed to be urging him, not without much resistance, to adopt a certain course of action.
"Before everything, I beg you, for mercy's sake," said Des Avenelles, imploringly, "not to betray my defection to my former—accomplices; for, alas! they who murdered President Minard might well do me an ill turn also."
"We will keep your secret," replied the lieutenant of police.
"But you propose to keep me a prisoner, do you not?" said Des Avenelles, with a very humbled and frightened air.
"No; you may return freely to your own house at any moment," replied De Braguelonne.
"Do you mean it?" said the advocate. "Ah! I see you propose to arrest my guests?"
"Not your guests, either. They will remain as free as yourself."
"How is that?" asked Des Avenelles, in amazement.
"Just listen to me a moment," replied Monsieur de Braguelonne, in an authoritative tone, "and pay good heed to my words. You will return at once to your own house, lest a too long absence should arouse suspicion. You will say not a word more to your guests, either as to your own fears or their secrets. You will act, and leave them to act, as if you had not been in this room to-day. Do you understand me? Hinder nothing, and express surprise at nothing. Let things take their course."
"That is easily done," said Des Avenelles.
"However," added Monsieur de Braguelonne, "if we need any information, we will either send to you for it or summon you hither, and you will hold yourself always in readiness to serve us in either way. If a descent upon your house is judged necessary, you will lend a hand in making it effective."
"Since I have done so much merely to make a beginning, I will go through with it," said Des Avenelles, with a sigh.
"Very well. One word in conclusion. If matters progress in a way to prove that you have obeyed these very simple instructions, you shall have your pardon; but if we have reason to suspect that you have been in the least degree indiscreet, you will be the first to be punished, and will suffer worse than all the others."
"You shall be burned alive, by our Lady!" chimed in Démocharès, in his deep and gloomy voice.
"However—" began the trembling advocate.
"That is sufficient," said De Braguelonne. "You have heard; see that you remember.Au revoir."
He made an imperious motion with his hand. The too prudent advocate left the room, relieved and anxious at the same time.
After his departure, for a moment nothing was said by the two others.
"You wished it so, and I yielded," said the lieutenant, finally; "but I confess that I have serious doubts as to the wisdom of that mode of procedure."
"No, everything is as well as can be," replied Démocharès. "This business must be allowed to take its own course, and with that in view, the important point was not to give the alarm to the conspirators. Let them think themselves sure of their secret, and go ahead in their false security. They fancy that they are marching in darkness, while we are following all their movements in the broad daylight. It is superb! Such another occasion to strike a deadly blow at the root of the heresy will not present itself in twenty years. Besides, I know the ideas of his Eminence the Cardinal de Lorraine upon this matter."
"Better than I do, to be sure," said De Braguelonne. "What are we to do now?"
"You will remain at Paris," said Démocharès, "and with the assistance of Lignières and Des Avenelles, keep a strict watch upon the two leading conspirators. I shall set out in an hour for Blois, to warn Messieurs de Guise. The cardinal will be somewhat alarmed at first, but Le Balafré is with him to encourage him; and when he comes to think it over, he will be in an ecstasy of delight. It is for those two to assemble in a fortnight around the king, without disturbance, all the forces they have available. Meanwhile, our Huguenots will have nothing to startle them; they will fall in a body, or one by one, into the trap we have laid, the blind fools, and they will be at our mercy. We shall have them, and then,—'General slaughter!'"
The grand inquisitor stalked up and down the room rubbing his hands for joy.
"May God grant," said Monsieur de Braguelonne, "that no unforeseen event shall reduce this splendid scheme to nought!"
"Impossible!" Démocharès made haste to say. "General slaughter! We have them on the hip! Call Lignières back, if you will, so that he may finish with the information he has for us, which I am to report to the Cardinal de Lorraine. But I look upon the heresy as already extinct. General slaughter!"
If in imagination we go forward two days, and traverse forty leagues of space, we may fancy ourselves on the 27th of February at the splendid Château de Blois, where the court was temporarily established.
There had been a great celebration at the château the day before, with jousting and ballets and allegorical representations, all under the direction of Monsieur Antoine de Baïf the poet.
So that on the morning in question the young king and his queen, for whose entertainment the fête had been given, had risen rather later than usual, and not fully rested from the fatigue of their holiday-making.
Fortunately no reception was appointed for that day, so that they were at liberty to amuse themselves by chatting over at their leisure the things that had pleased their fancy.
"For my own part," said Mary Stuart, "I thought all the entertainments the finest and rarest things imaginable."
"Yes," replied François, "especially the ballets and the scenes that were acted. But I must confess that the sonnets and madrigals seemed to me a trifle tiresome."
"What!" cried Mary; "why, they were very bright and clever, I assure you."
"But too everlastingly eulogistic, you must agree,mignonne. You see, it's not especially amusing to hear one's self praised thus by the hour; and I could not help fancying last evening that the good God Himself must sometimes have His moments of being bored in His Paradise. Then you must remember, too, that these gentlemen, especially Messieurs de Baïf and de Maisonfleur, have a way of interlarding their discourse with numbers of Latin words, which I do not always understand."
"But that has a very learned air," said Mary, "and it is a fashion which makes me feel very literary and of very correct taste."