CHAPTER XIX.
THE ARTIST AND THE POLITICIAN.
"Ah! it is you, Dubois," exclaimed the regent, as his minister entered.
"Yes, monseigneur," said Dubois, taking out some papers. "Well, what doyou say to our Bretons now?"
"What papers are those?" asked the regent, who, in spite of thepreceding day's conversation, or perhaps because of it, felt a secretsympathy with De Chanlay.
"Oh, nothing at all, first a little report of what passed yesterdayevening between M. de Chanlay and his excellency the Duc d'Olivares."
"You listened, then?" said the regent.
"Pardieu, monseigneur, what did you expect that I should do?"
"And you heard?"
"All. What do you think of his Catholic majesty's pretensions?"
"I think that perhaps they use his name without his consent."
"And Cardinal Alberoni? Tudieu! monseigneur, how nicely they manageEurope: the pretender in England; Prussia, Sweden, and Russia tearingHolland to pieces; the empire recovering Sicily and Naples; the grandduchy of Tuscany for Philip the Fifth's son; Sardinia for the king ofSavoy; Commanchio for the pope; France for Spain; really, this plan issomewhat grand, to emanate from the brain of a bell-ringer."
"All smoke! these prospects," said the duke; "mere dreams."
"And the Breton league, is that all smoke?"
"I am forced to own that that really exists."
"And the dagger of our conspirator; is that a dream?"
"No; it even appeared to me likely to be vigorously handled."
"Peste! monseigneur, you complained in the other plot that you foundnone but rose-water conspirators. Well, this time I hope you are betterpleased. These fellows strike hard."
"Do you know," said the regent, thoughtfully, "that the Chevalier deChanlay is of an energetic and vigorous nature."
"Ah, the next thing will be, you will conceive a great admiration forthis fellow. I know, monseigneur, that you are capable of it."
"How is it that a prince always finds such natures among his enemies,and not among friends?"
"Because, monseigneur, hatred is a passion, and devotion often only aweakness; but if you will descend from the height of philosophy anddeign to a simple act, namely, to give me two signatures--"
"What signatures?" asked the regent.
"First, there is a captain to be made a major."
"Captain la Jonquiere?"
"Oh, no; as to him, we'll hang him when we have done with him; butmeanwhile, we must treat him with care."
"Who, then, is this captain?"
"A brave officer whom monseigneur eight days, or rather eight nightsago, met in a house in the Rue St. Honore."
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, I see I must aid your memory a little, monseigneur, since you havesuch a bad one."
"Speak, one can never get at the truth with you."
"In two words, eight nights ago you went out disguised as a musketeerthrough the little door in the Rue Richelieu, accompanied by Noce andSimiane."
"It is true; what passed in the Rue St. Honore?"
"Do you wish to know, monseigneur?"
"I do."
"I can refuse you nothing."
"Speak, then."
"You supped at the house--that house, monseigneur."
"Still with Noce and Simiane?"
"No, monseigneur, tete-a-tete. Noce and Simiane supped too, butseparately. You supped, then, and were at table, when a brave officer,who probably mistook the door, knocked so obstinately at yours, that youbecame impatient, and handled the unfortunate who disturbed you somewhatroughly, but he, who, it seems, was not of an enduring nature, took outhis sword, whereupon you, monseigneur, who never look twice beforecommitting a folly, drew your rapier and tried your skill with theofficer."
"And the result?" asked the regent.
"Was, that you got a scratch on the shoulder, in return for which youbestowed on your adversary a sword-thrust in the breast."
"But it was not dangerous?" asked the regent, anxiously.
"No; fortunately the blade glided along the ribs."
"So much the better."
"But that is not all."
"How?"
"It appears that you owed the officer a special grudge."
"I had never seen him."
"Princes strike from a distance."
"What do you mean?"
"This officer had been a captain for eight years, when, on yourhighness's coming into power, he was dismissed."
"Then I suppose he deserved it."
"Ah, monseigneur, you would make us out as infallible as the pope!"
"He must have committed some cowardly act."
"He is one of the bravest officers in the service."
"Some infamous act then?"
"He is the most honest fellow breathing."
"Then this is an injustice to be repaired."
"Exactly; and that is why I prepared this major's brevet."
"Give it to me, Dubois, you have some good in you sometimes."
A diabolical smile passed over Dubois's face as he drew from hisportfolio a second paper.
The regent watched him uneasily.
"What is that paper?" asked he.
"Monseigneur, you have repaired an act of injustice, now do an act ofjustice."
"The order to arrest the Chevalier Gaston de Chanlay, and place him inthe Bastille," cried the regent. "Ah! I see now why you bribed me with agood action; but stay, this requires reflection."
"Do you think I propose to you an abuse of power, monseigneur?" askedDubois, laughing.
"No, but yet--"
"Monseigneur," continued Dubois, "when we have in our hands thegovernment of a kingdom, the thing most necessary is, to govern."
"But it seems to me that I am the master."
"To reward, yes; but on condition of punishing--the balance of justiceis destroyed, monseigneur, if an eternal and blind mercy weighs down oneof the scales. To act as you always wish, and often do, is not good, butweak. What is the reward of virtue, if you do not punish vice?"
"Then," said the regent, the more impatiently that he felt he wasdefending a bad though generous cause, "if you wished me to be severe,you should not have brought about an interview between me and this youngman; you should not have given me the opportunity of appreciating hisworth, but have allowed me to suppose him a common conspirator."
"Yes; and now, because he presented himself to your highness under aromantic guise, your artistic imagination runs away with you. Diable!monseigneur, there is a time for everything; so chemistry with Hubert,engraving with Audran, music with Lafare, make love with the wholeworld--but politics with me."
"Mon Dieu!" said the regent, "is it worth while to defend a life,watched, tortured, calumniated as mine is?"
"But it is not your life you are defending, monseigneur; consider, amongall these calumnies which pursue you, and against which Heaven knows youshould be steeled by this time; your most bitter enemies have neveraccused you of cowardice--as to your life, at Steinkirk, at Nerwinden,and at Lerida, you proved at what rate you valued it. Pardieu! if youwere merely a private gentleman, a minister, or a prince of the blood,and you were assassinated, a man's heart would cease to beat, and thatwould be all; but wrongly or rightly, you coveted a place among thepowerful ones of the world; for that end you broke the will of Louis theFourteenth, you drove the bastards from the throne whereon they hadalready placed their feet, you made yourself regent of France--that isto say, the keystone of the arch of the world. If you die, it is not aman who falls, it is the pillar which supports the European edificewhich gives way; thus our four last years of watchfulness and struggleswould be lost, and everything around would be shaken. Look at England;the Chevalier de Saint George will renew the mad enterprises of thepretender; look at Holland---Russia, Sweden, and Prussia would hunt herto the death; look at Austria--her two-headed eagle seizes Venice andMilan, as an indemnification for the loss of Spain; cast your eyes onFrance--n
o longer France, but Philip the Fifth's vassal; look, finally,at Louis the Fifteenth, the last descendant of the greatest monarch thatever gave light to the world, and the child whom by watchfulness andcare we have saved from the fate of his father, his mother, and hisuncles, to place him safe and sound on the throne of his ancestors; thischild falls back again into the hands of those whom an adulterous lawboldly calls to succeed him; thus, on all sides, murder, desolation,ruin, civil and foreign wars. And why? because it pleases MonsieurPhilippe d'Orleans to think himself still major of the king's troops, orcommandant of the army in Spain, and to forget that he ceased to be sofrom the moment he became regent of France."
"You _will_ have it, then," said the duke.
"Stay, monseigneur," said Dubois, "it shall not be said that in anaffair of this importance you gave way to my importunity. I have saidwhat I had to say, now I leave you--do as you please. I leave you thepaper; I am going to give some orders, and in a quarter of an hour Iwill return to fetch it."
And Dubois saluted the regent and went out.
Left alone, the regent became thoughtful--this whole affair, so somberand so tenacious of life, this remains of the former conspiracy, filledthe duke's mind with gloomy thoughts; he had braved death in battle, hadlaughed at abductions meditated by the Spaniards and by Louis theFourteenth's bastards; but this time a secret horror oppressed him; hefelt an involuntary admiration for the young man whose poniard wasraised against him; sometimes he hated him, at others he excused--healmost loved him. Dubois, cowering down over this conspiracy like aninfernal ape over some dying prey, and piercing with his ravenous clawsto its very heart, seemed to him to possess a sublime intelligence andpower; he felt that he, ordinarily so courageous, should have defendedhis life feebly in this instance, and his eyes involuntarily sought thepaper.
"Yes," murmured he, "Dubois is right, my life is no longer my own;yesterday, my mother also told me the same thing. Who knows what mighthappen if I were to fall? The same as happened at the death of myancestor Henry the Fourth, perchance. After having reconquered hiskingdom step by step, he was about--thanks to ten years of peace,economy, and prosperity--to add Alsace, Lorraine, and perhaps Flanders,to France, while the Duke of Savoy, his son-in-law, descending the Alps,should cut out for himself a kingdom in the Milanais, and with theleavings of that kingdom enrich the kingdom of Venice and strengthen thedukes of Modena, Florence, and Mantua; everything was ready for theimmense result, prepared during the whole life of a king who was at oncea legislator and a soldier; then the 13th of May arrived; a carriagewith the royal livery passed the Rue de la Feronniere, and the clock ofLes Innocents struck three. In a moment all was destroyed; pastprosperity, hopes of the future; it needed a whole century, a ministercalled Richelieu and a king called Louis the Fourteenth, to cicatrizethe wound made in France by Ravaillac's knife. Yes, Dubois was right,"cried the duke, "and I must abandon this young man to human justice;besides, it is not I who condemn him; the judges are there to decide;and," added he, with animation, "have I not still the power to pardon."
And quieted by the thought of this royal prerogative, which he exercisedin the name of Louis XV., he signed the paper, and left the room tofinish dressing.
Ten minutes after the door opened softly, Dubois carefully looked in,saw that the room was empty, approached the table near which the princehad been seated, looked rapidly at the order, smiled on seeing thesignature, and folding it in four, placed it in his pocket, and left theroom with an air of great satisfaction.
Une fille du régent. English Page 20