CHAPTER XC.
HIS HIGHNESS MONSEIGNEUR LE DUC DE GUISE.
On Sunday the 10th of June, toward eleven o'clock in the day, the wholecourt were assembled in the apartment leading to the cabinet in which,since his meeting with Diana de Meridor, the Duc d'Anjou was dying byslow but sure degrees. Neither the science of the physicians, nor hismother's despair, nor the prayers which the king had desired to beoffered up, had been successful in averting the fatal termination.Miron, on the morning of this same 10th of June, assured the king thatall chance of recovery was hopeless, and that Francois d'Anjou would notoutlive the day. The king pretended to display extreme grief, andturning toward those who were present, said, "This will fill my enemiesfull of hope."
To which remark the queen-mother replied: "Our destiny is in the handsof Heaven, my son."
Whereupon Chicot, who was standing humbly and reverently near HenriIII., added in a low voice:
"Let us help Heaven when we can, sire."
Nevertheless, the dying man, toward half-past eleven, lost both colorand sight; his mouth, which, up to that moment, had remained open,became closed; the flow of blood which for several days past hadterrified all who were near him, as the bloody sweat of Charles IX. hadsimilarly done at an earlier period, had suddenly ceased, and hands andfeet became icy cold. Henri was sitting beside the head of the couchwhereon his brother was extended. Catherine was standing in the recessin which the bed was placed, holding her dying son's hand in hers.
The bishop of Chateau-Thierry and the Cardinal de Joyeuse repeated theprayers for the dying, which were joined in by all who were present,kneeling, and with their hands clasped reverently together. Towardmid-day, the dying man opened his eyes; the sun's rays broke through acloud and inundated the bed with a flood of light. Francois, who, up tothat moment, had been unable to move a single finger, and whose mind hadbeen obscured like the sun which had just re-appeared, raised one of hisarms toward heaven with a horror-stricken gesture.
He looked all round the room, heard the murmuring of the prayers, grewconscious of his illness as well as of his weakness, became aware of hiscritical position, perhaps because he already caught a glimpse of thatunseen and terrible future, the abode of certain souls after they havequitted their earthly prison.
He thereupon uttered a loud and piercing cry, and struck his foreheadwith a force which made every one tremble.
Then, knitting his brows, as if one of the mysterious incidents of hislife had just recurred to him, he murmured:
"Bussy! Diana!"
This latter name had been overheard by none but Catherine, so weakenedhad the dying man's voice become before pronouncing it.
With the last syllable of that name Francois d'Anjou breathed his lastsigh.
At this very moment, by a singular coincidence, the sun, which hadgilded with its rays the royal arms of France, and the goldenfleurs-de-lis, was again obscured: so that the fleurs-de-lis which hadbeen so brilliantly illumined but a moment before, became as dark andgloomy as the azure ground which they had but recently studded withconstellations almost as resplendent as those whereon the eye of thedreamer rests in his upward gaze toward heaven.
Catherine let her son's hand fall.
Henri III. shuddered, and leaned tremblingly on Chicot's shoulder, whoshuddered too, but from a feeling of awe which every Christian feels inthe presence of the dead.
Miron placed a golden spatula on Francois' lips; after a few seconds, helooked at it carefully and said:
"Monseigneur is dead."
Whereupon a deep prolonged groan arose from the antechamber, like anaccompaniment to the psalm which the cardinal murmured: "Cedantiniquitates meae ad vocem deprecationis meae."
"Dead," repeated the king, making the sign of the cross as he sat in hisfauteuil; "my brother, my brother!"
"The sole heir of the throne of France," murmured Catherine, who, havingquitted the bed whereon the corpse was lying, had placed herself besidethe only son who now remained to her.
"Oh!" said Henri, "this throne of France is indeed large for a kingwithout issue; the crown is indeed large for a single head. No children!no heirs! Who will succeed me?"
Hardly had he pronounced these words when a loud noise was heard on thestaircase and in the apartments.
Nambu hurriedly entered the death chamber, and announced--"His HighnessMonseigneur le Duc de Guise."
Struck by this reply to the question which he had addressed to himself,the king turned pale, rose, and looked at his mother. Catherine waspaler than her son. At the announcement of the horrible misfortunewhich mere chance had foretold to his race, she grasped the king's hand,and pressed it, as if to say--
"There lies the danger; but fear nothing, I am near you."
The son and mother, under the influence of the same terror and the samemenace, had comprehended each other.
The duke entered, followed by his officers. He entered, holding his headloftily erect, although his eyes ranged from the king to the death-bedof his brother with a glance not free from a certain embarrassment.
Henri III. stood up, and with that supreme majesty of carriage which, oncertain occasions, his singularly poetic nature enabled him to assume,checked the duke's further progress by a kingly gesture, and pointed tothe royal corpse upon the bed, the covering of which was in disorderfrom his brother's dying agonies. The duke bowed his head, and slowlyfell on his knees. All around him, too, bowed their heads and bent theirknees. Henri III., together with his mother, alone remained standing,and bent a last look, full of pride, upon those around him. Chicotobserved this look, and murmured in a low tone of voice, "Dejicietpotentes de sede et exaltabit humiles"--"He hath put down the mightyfrom their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek."
POSTSCRIPT.
A few words with reference to the principal characters in the novel ofthe "Forty-five Guardsmen" are necessary to complete the story.
Diana de Monsoreau, having taken the vows at the Convent desHospitalieres, survived the Duc d'Anjou only two years. Of Remy, herfaithful companion, we hear no more: he disappeared without leaving atrace behind him.
History, however, informs us more fully as to the others. The Duc deGuise, having at last broken into open rebellion against Henri III., wasso far successful, that with the aid of the League he compelled the kingto fly from Paris. A hollow reconciliation was, however, patched upbetween them, the Duc de Guise stipulating that he should be appointedlieutenant-general of the kingdom; but no sooner had the king returnedto the Louvre than he determined on the assassination of the duke. Hesounded Crillon, the leader of the "Forty-five," on the subject, butthis noble soldier refused to have anything to do with it, offering,however, to challenge him to single combat. De Loignac was lessscrupulous, and we know the result; the Duc de Guise and his brother thecardinal were both murdered. Ten days after this event, Catherine deMedicis, the queen-mother, died, regretted by none.
The Parisians, exasperated by the murder of the Duc de Guise, declaredhis brother, the Duc de Mayenne, the head of the League, and roseagainst the king, who was again obliged to fly. He begged the king ofNavarre for aid, who promptly responded to the call, and they wereshortly before Paris with a united army of Catholics and Huguenots.Henri III. was, however, pursued by the relentless hate of the cleverand unscrupulous Duchesse de Montpensier. She worked so skillfully onthe fanatical mind of the young Jacobin friar, Jacques Clement, that heundertook the death of the king. He entered the camp with letters forHenri, whom he stabbed while reading them. The king died on the 2dAugust, 1589, after having declared Henri of Navarre his successor.
Of the subsequent life and adventures of Chicot, unfortunately nothingauthentic is known. TRANSLATOR.
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