La reine Margot. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER XIII.

  HOW THERE ARE KEYS WHICH OPEN DOORS THEY ARE NOT MEANT FOR.

  The Queen of Navarre on her return to the Louvre found Gillonne in greatexcitement. Madame de Sauve had been there in her absence. She hadbrought a key sent her by the queen mother. It was the key of the roomin which Henry was confined. It was evident that the queen mother forsome purpose of her own wished the Bearnais to spend that night inMadame de Sauve's apartment.

  Marguerite took the key and turned it over and over; she made Gillonnerepeat Madame de Sauve's every word, weighed them, letter by letter, inher mind, and at length thought she detected Catharine's plan.

  She took pen and ink, and wrote:

  "_Instead of going to Madame de Sauve to-night, come to the Queen of Navarre._"

  "_MARGUERITE._"

  She rolled up the paper, put it in the hollow of the key, and orderedGillonne to slip the key under the king's door as soon as it was dark.

  This first duty having been attended to, Marguerite thought of thewounded man, closed all the doors, entered the closet, and, to her greatsurprise, found La Mole dressed in all his clothes, torn andblood-stained as they were.

  On seeing her he strove to rise, but, still dizzy, could not stand, andfell back upon the sofa which had served for his bed.

  "What is the matter, sir?" asked Marguerite; "and why do you thusdisobey your physician's orders? I recommended you rest, and instead offollowing my advice you do just the contrary."

  "Oh, madame," said Gillonne, "it is not my fault; I have entreatedMonsieur le Comte not to commit this folly, but he declares that nothingshall keep him any longer at the Louvre."

  "Leave the Louvre!" said Marguerite, gazing with astonishment at theyoung man, who cast down his eyes. "Why, it is impossible--you cannotwalk; you are pale and weak; your knees tremble. Only a few hours agothe wound in your shoulder was still bleeding."

  "Madame," said the young man, "as earnestly as I thanked your majestyfor having given me shelter, as earnestly do I pray you now to suffer meto depart."

  "I scarcely know what to call such a resolution," said Marguerite; "itis worse than ingratitude."

  "Oh," cried La Mole, clasping his hands, "think me not ungrateful; mygratitude will cease only with my life."

  "It will not last long, then," said Marguerite, moved at these words,the sincerity of which it was impossible to doubt; "for your wounds willopen, and you will die from loss of blood, or you will be recognized fora Huguenot and killed ere you have gone fifty yards in the street."

  "Nevertheless I must leave the Louvre," murmured La Mole.

  "Must," returned Marguerite, fixing her serene, inscrutable eyes uponhim; then turning rather pale she added, "ah, yes; forgive me, sir, Iunderstand; doubtless there is some one outside the Louvre who isanxiously waiting for you. You are right, Monsieur de la Mole; it isnatural, and I understand it. Why didn't you say so at first? orrather, why didn't I think of it myself? It is duty in the exercise ofhospitality to protect one's guest's affections as well as to cure hiswounds, and to care for the spirit just as one cares for the body."

  "Alas, madame," said La Mole, "you are laboring under a strange mistake.I am well nigh alone in the world, and altogether so in Paris, where noone knows me. My assassin is the first man I have spoken to in thiscity; your majesty the first woman who has spoken to me."

  "Then," said Marguerite, "why would you go?"

  "Because," replied La Mole, "last night you got no rest, and to-night"--

  Marguerite blushed.

  "Gillonne," said she, "it is already evening and time to deliver thatkey."

  Gillonne smiled, and left the room.

  "But," continued Marguerite, "if you are alone in Paris, withoutfriends, what will you do?"

  "Madame, I soon shall have friends enough, for while I was pursued Ithought of my mother, who was a Catholic; methought I saw her with across in her hand gliding before me toward the Louvre, and I vowed thatif God should save my life I would embrace my mother's religion. Madame,God did more than save my life, he sent me one of his angels to make melove life."

  "But you cannot walk; before you have gone a hundred steps you willfaint away."

  "Madame, I have made the experiment in the closet, I walk slowly andpainfully, it is true; but let me get as far as the Place du Louvre;once outside, let befall what will."

  Marguerite leaned her head on her hand and sank into deep thought.

  "And the King of Navarre," said she, significantly, "you no longer speakof him? In changing your religion, have you also changed your desire toenter his service?"

  "Madame," replied La Mole, growing pale, "you have just hit upon theactual reason of my departure. I know that the King of Navarre isexposed to the greatest danger, and that all your majesty's influence asa daughter of France will barely suffice to save his life."

  "What do you mean, sir," exclaimed Marguerite, "and what danger do yourefer to?"

  "Madame," replied La Mole, with some hesitation, "one can heareverything from the closet where I am."

  "'Tis true," said Marguerite to herself; "Monsieur de Guise told me sobefore."

  "Well," added she, aloud, "what did you hear?"

  "In the first place, the conversation between your majesty and yourbrother."

  "With Francois?" said Marguerite, changing color.

  "Yes, madame, with the Duc d'Alencon; and then after you went out Iheard what Gillonne and Madame de Sauve said."

  "And these two conversations"--

  "Yes, madame; married scarcely a week, you love your husband; yourhusband will come, in his turn, in the same way that the Duc d'Alenconand Madame de Sauve came. He will confide his secrets to you. Well,then, I must not overhear them; I should be indiscreet--I cannot--I mustnot--I will not be!"

  By the tone in which La Mole uttered these last words, by the anxietyexpressed in his voice, by the embarrassment shown in his eyes,Marguerite was enlightened as by a sudden revelation.

  "Aha!" said she, "so you have heard everything that has been said inthis room?"

  "Yes, madame."

  These words were uttered in a sigh.

  "And you wish to depart to-night, this evening, to avoid hearing anymore?"

  "This moment, if it please your majesty to allow me to go."

  "Poor fellow!" said Marguerite, with a strange accent of tender pity.

  Astonished by such a gentle reply when he was expecting a ratherforcible outburst, La Mole timidly raised his head; his eyes metMarguerite's and were riveted as by a magnetic power on their clear andlimpid depths.

  "So then you feel you cannot keep a secret, Monsieur de la Mole?" saidMarguerite in a soft voice as she stood leaning on the back of herchair, half hidden in the shadow of a thick tapestry and enjoying thefelicity of easily reading his frank and open soul while remainingimpenetrable herself.

  "Madame," said La Mole, "I have a miserable disposition: I distrustmyself, and the happiness of another gives me pain."

  "Whose happiness?" asked Marguerite, smiling. "Ah, yes--the King ofNavarre's! Poor Henry!"

  "You see," cried La Mole, passionately, "he is happy."

  "Happy?"

  "Yes, for your majesty is sorry for him."

  Marguerite crumpled up the silk of her purse and smoothed out the goldenfringe.

  "So then you decline to see the King of Navarre?" said she; "you havemade up your mind; you are decided?"

  "I fear I should be troublesome to his majesty just at the presenttime."

  "But the Duc d'Alencon, my brother?"

  "Oh, no, madame!" cried La Mole, "the Duc d'Alencon even still less thanthe King of Navarre."

  "Why so?" asked Marguerite, so stirred that her voice trembled as shespoke.

  "Because, although I am already too bad a Huguenot to be a faithfulservant of the King of Navarre, I am not a sufficiently good Catholic tobe friends with the Duc d'Alencon and Monsieur de Guise."

  This time Margueri
te cast down her eyes, for she felt the very depths ofher heart stirred by what he said, and yet she could not have toldwhether his reply was meant to give her joy or pain.

  At this moment Gillonne came back. Marguerite asked her a question witha glance; Gillonne's answer, also conveyed by her eyes, was in theaffirmative. She had succeeded in getting the key to the King ofNavarre.

  Marguerite turned her eyes toward La Mole, who stood before her, hishead drooping on his breast, pale, like one suffering alike in mind andin body.

  "Monsieur de la Mole is proud," said she, "and I hesitate to make him aproposition he will doubtless reject."

  La Mole rose, took one step toward Marguerite, and was about to bow lowbefore her to signify that he was at her service; but an intense, keen,burning pang forced the tears from his eyes, and conscious that he wasin danger of falling, he clutched a piece of tapestry and clung to it.

  "Don't you see, sir," cried Marguerite, springing to him and supportinghim in her arms, "don't you see that you still need me?"

  A scarcely perceptible movement passed over La Mole's lips.

  "Oh, yes!" he whispered, "like the air I breathe, like the light I see!"

  At this moment three knocks were heard at Marguerite's door.

  "Do you hear, madame?" cried Gillonne, alarmed.

  "Already!" exclaimed Marguerite.

  "Shall I open?"

  "Wait! perhaps it is the King of Navarre."

  "Oh, madame!" cried La Mole, recalled to himself by these words, whichthe queen had spoken in such a low tone that she hoped Gillonne only hadheard them, "on my knees I entreat you, let me depart. Yes, dead oralive! madame, have pity on me! Oh! you do not answer. I will tell youall, and then you will drive me away, I hope."

  "Be silent," said Marguerite, who found an indescribable charm in theyoung man's reproaches; "be silent."

  "Madame," replied La Mole, who did not find that anger he expected inthe voice of the queen, "madame, I tell you again, everything is audiblein this closet. Oh, do not make me perish by tortures more cruel thanthe executioner could inflict"--

  "Silence! silence!" said Marguerite.

  "Oh, madame, you are merciless! you will not hear me, you will notunderstand me. Know, then, that I love you"--

  "Silence! I tell you," interrupted Marguerite, placing on his mouth herwarm, perfumed hand, which he seized between both of his and pressedeagerly to his lips.

  "But"--he whispered.

  "Be silent, child--who is this rebel that refuses to obey his queen?"

  Then darting out of the closet, she shut the door and stood leaningagainst the wall pressing her trembling hand to her heart, as if tocontrol it.

  "Open, Gillonne."

  Gillonne left the room, and an instant after, the fine, intellectual,but rather anxious countenance of the King of Navarre appeared behindthe tapestry.

  "You have sent for me, madame?"

  "Yes, sire. Your majesty received my letter?"

  "And not without some surprise, I confess," said Henry, looking roundwith distrust, which, however, almost instantly vanished from his mind.

  "And not without some apprehension," added Marguerite.

  "I confess it, madame! But still, surrounded as I am by deadly enemies,by friends still more dangerous, perhaps, than my open foes, Irecollected that one evening I had seen a noble generosity shining inyour eyes--'twas the night of our marriage; that one other evening I hadseen the star of courage beaming in them--'twas yesterday, the day fixedfor my death."

  "Well, sire?" said Marguerite, smiling, while Henry seemed striving toread her heart.

  "Well, madame," returned the king, "thinking of these things, I said tomyself, as I read your letter bidding me come: 'Without friends, for heis a disarmed prisoner, the King of Navarre has but one means of dyingnobly, of dying a death that will be recorded in history. It is to diebetrayed by his wife; and I am come'"--

  "Sire," replied Marguerite, "you will change your tone when you learnthat all this is the work of a woman who loves you--and whom you love."

  Henry started back at these words, and his keen gray eyes under theirblack lashes were fixed on the queen with curiosity.

  "Oh, reassure yourself, sire," said the queen, smiling; "I am not thatperson."

  "But, madame," said Henry, "you sent me this key, and this is yourwriting."

  "It is my writing, I confess; the letter came from me, but the key is adifferent matter. Let it satisfy you to know that it has passed throughthe hands of four women before it reached you."

  "Of four women?" exclaimed Henry in astonishment.

  "Yes," said Marguerite; "Queen Catharine's, Madame de Sauve's,Gillonne's, and mine."

  Henry pondered over this enigma.

  "Now let us talk reasonably, sire," said Marguerite, "and above all letus speak frankly. Common report has it that your majesty has consentedto abjure. Is it true?"

  "That report is mistaken; I have not yet consented."

  "But your mind is made up?"

  "That is to say, I am deliberating. When one is twenty and almost aking, _ventre saint gris_! there are many things well worth a mass."

  "And among other things life, for instance!"

  Henry could not repress a fleeting smile.

  "You do not tell me your whole thought," said Marguerite.

  "I have reservations for my allies, madame; and you know we are butallies as yet; if indeed you were both my ally--and"--

  "And your wife, sire?"

  "Faith! yes, and my wife"--

  "What then?"

  "Why, then, it might be different, and I perhaps might resolve to remainKing of the Huguenots, as they call me. But as it is, I must be contentto live."

  Marguerite looked at Henry in such a peculiar manner that it would haveawakened suspicion in a less acute mind than his.

  "And are you quite sure of succeeding even in that?" she asked.

  "Why, almost; but you know, in this world nothing is certain."

  "It is true," replied Marguerite, "your majesty shows such moderationand professes such disinterestedness, that after having renounced yourcrown, after having renounced your religion, you will probably renounceyour alliance with a daughter of France; at least this is hoped for."

  These words bore a significance which sent a thrill through Henry'swhole frame; but instantaneously repressing the emotion, he said:

  "Deign to recollect, madame, that at this moment I am not my own master;I shall therefore do what the King of France orders me. If I wereconsulted the least in the world on this question, affecting as it doesmy throne, my honor, and my life, rather than build my future on thisforced marriage of ours, I should prefer to enter a monastery or turngamekeeper."

  This calm resignation, this renunciation of the world, alarmedMarguerite. She thought perhaps this rupture of the marriage had beenagreed upon by Charles IX., Catharine, and the King of Navarre. Whyshould she not be taken as a dupe or a victim? Because she was sister ofthe one and daughter of the other? Experience had taught her that thisrelationship gave her no ground on which to build her security.

  So ambition was gnawing at this young woman's, or rather this youngqueen's heart, and she was too far above vulgar frailties to be drawninto any selfish meanness; in the case of every woman, however mediocreshe may be, when she loves her love has none of these petty trials, fortrue love is also an ambition.

  "Your majesty," said Marguerite, with a sort of mocking disdain, "has noconfidence in the star that shines over the head of every king!"

  "Ah," said Henry, "I vainly look for mine now, I cannot see it; 'tishidden by the storm which now threatens me!"

  "And suppose a woman's breath were to dispel this tempest, and make thestar reappear, brilliant as ever?"

  "'Twere difficult."

  "Do you deny the existence of this woman?"

  "No, I deny her power."

  "You mean her will?"

  "I said her power, and I repeat, her power. A woman is powerful onlywhen love and inter
est are combined within her in equal degrees; ifeither sentiment predominates, she is, like Achilles, vulnerable; now asto this woman, if I mistake not, I cannot rely on her love."

  Marguerite made no reply.

  "Listen," said Henry; "at the last stroke of the bell of Saint Germainl'Auxerrois you must have thought of regaining your liberty, sacrificedfor the purpose of destroying my followers. My concern was to save mylife: that was the most essential thing. We lose Navarre, indeed; butwhat is that compared with your being enabled to speak aloud in yourroom, which you dared not do when you had some one listening to you inyonder closet?"

  Deeply absorbed as she was in her thoughts, Marguerite could not refrainfrom smiling. The king rose and prepared to seek his own apartment, forit was some time after eleven, and every one at the Louvre was, orseemed to be, asleep.

  Henry took three steps toward the door, then suddenly stopped as if forthe first time recollecting the motive of his visit to the queen.

  "By the way, madame," said he, "had you not something to communicate tome? or did you desire to give me an opportunity of thanking you for thereprieve which your brave presence in the King's armory brought me? Intruth it was just in time, madame; I cannot deny it, you appeared like agoddess of antiquity, in the nick of time to save my life."

  "Unfortunate man!" cried Marguerite, in a muffled voice, and seizing herhusband's arm, "do you not see that nothing is saved, neither yourliberty, your crown, nor your life? Infatuated madman! Poor madman! Didyou, then, see nothing in my letter but a rendezvous? Did you believethat Marguerite, indignant at your coldness, desired reparation?"

  "I confess, madame," said Henry in astonishment, "I confess"--

  Marguerite shrugged her shoulders with an expression impossible todescribe.

  At this instant a strange sound was heard, like a sharp insistentscratching at the secret door.

  Marguerite led the king toward the little door.

  "Listen," said she.

  "The queen mother is leaving her room," said a trembling voice outside,which Henry instantly recognized as Madame de Sauve's.

  "Where is she going?" asked Marguerite.

  "She is coming to your majesty."

  And then the rustling of a silk gown, growing fainter, showed thatMadame de Sauve was hastening rapidly away.

  "Oho!" exclaimed Henry.

  "I was sure of this," said Marguerite.

  "And I," replied Henry, "feared it, and this is the proof of it."

  And half opening his black velvet doublet, he showed the queen that hehad beneath it a shirt of mail, and a long Milan poniard, whichinstantly glittered in his hand like a viper in the sun.

  "As if you needed weapon and cuirass here!" cried Marguerite. "Quick,quick, sire! conceal that dagger; 'tis the queen mother, indeed, but thequeen mother only."

  "Yet"--

  "Silence!--I hear her."

  And putting her mouth close to Henry's ear, she whispered somethingwhich the young king heard with attention mingled with astonishment.Then he hid himself behind the curtains of the bed.

  Meantime, with the quickness of a panther, Marguerite sprang to thecloset, where La Mole was waiting in a fever of excitement, opened thedoor, found the young man, and pressing his hand in thedarkness--"Silence," said she, approaching her lips so near that he felther warm and balmy breath; "silence!"

  Then returning to her chamber, she tore off her head-dress, cut thelaces of her dress with her poniard, and sprang into bed.

  It was time--the key turned in the lock. Catharine had a key for everydoor in the Louvre.

  "Who is there?" cried Marguerite, as Catharine placed on guard at thedoor the four gentlemen by whom she was attended.

  And, as if frightened by this sudden intrusion into her chamber,Marguerite sprang out from behind the curtains of her bed in a whitedressing-gown, and then recognizing Catharine, came to kiss her handwith such well-feigned surprise that the wily Florentine herself couldnot help being deceived by it.