LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

duchess took Marguerite by the hand and led her to a door covered with tapestry; then bending one knee, she applied her eye to the keyhole.

      "’Tis all right; he is sitting at table, with his face turned toward us; come!"

      The queen took her friend's place, and looked through the keyhole; Coconnas, as the duchess had said, was sitting at a well-served table, and, despite his wounds, was doing ample justice to the good things before him.

      "Ah, great heavens!" cried Marguerite, starting back.

      "What is the matter?" asked the duchess in amazement.

      "Impossible! – no! – yes! – on my soul, ’tis the very man!"

      "Who?"

      "Hush," said Marguerite, getting to her feet and seizing the duchess's hand; "’tis the man who pursued my Huguenot into my room, and stabbed him in my arms! Oh, Henriette, how fortunate he did not see me!"

      "Well, then, you have seen him fighting; was he not handsome?"

      "I do not know," said Marguerite, "for I was looking at the man he was pursuing."

      "What is his name?"

      "You will not mention it before the count?"

      "No, I give you my promise!"

      "Lerac de la Mole."

      "And what do you think of him now?"

      "Of Monsieur de la Mole?"

      "No, of Monsieur de Coconnas?"

      "Faith!" said Marguerite, "I confess I think" —

      She stopped.

      "Come, come," said the duchess, "I see you are angry with him for having wounded your Huguenot."

      "Why, so far," said Marguerite, laughing, "my Huguenot owes him nothing; the slash he gave him under his eye" —

      "They are quits, then, and we can reconcile them. Send me your wounded man."

      "Not now – by and by."

      "When?"

      "When you have found yours another room."

      "Which?"

      Marguerite looked meaningly at her friend, who, after a moment's silence, laughed.

      "So be it," said the duchess; "alliance firmer than ever."

      "Friendship ever sincere!"

      "And the word, in case we need each other?"

      "The triple name of your triple god, 'Eros, Cupido, Amor.'"

      And the two princesses separated after one more kiss, and pressing each other's hand for the twentieth time.

      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 great excitement. Madame de Sauve had been there in her absence. She had brought a key sent her by the queen mother. It was the key of the room in which Henry was confined. It was evident that the queen mother for some purpose of her own wished the Béarnais to spend that night in Madame de Sauve's apartment.

      Marguerite took the key and turned it over and over; she made Gillonne repeat Madame de Sauve's every word, weighed them, letter by letter, in her 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 ordered Gillonne 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 the wounded man, closed all the doors, entered the closet, and, to her great surprise, found La Mole dressed in all his clothes, torn and blood-stained as they were.

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

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

      "Oh, madame," said Gillonne, "it is not my fault; I have entreated Monsieur le Comte not to commit this folly, but he declares that nothing shall keep him any longer at the Louvre."

      "Leave the Louvre!" said Marguerite, gazing with astonishment at the young man, who cast down his eyes. "Why, it is impossible – you cannot walk; you are pale and weak; your knees tremble. Only a few hours ago the wound in your shoulder was still bleeding."

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

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

      "Oh," cried La Mole, clasping his hands, "think me not ungrateful; my gratitude 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 will open, and you will die from loss of blood, or you will be recognized for a 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 upon him; then turning rather pale she added, "ah, yes; forgive me, sir, I understand; doubtless there is some one outside the Louvre who is anxiously waiting for you. You are right, Monsieur de la Mole; it is natural, and I understand it. Why didn't you say so at first? or rather, why didn't I think of it myself? It is duty in the exercise of hospitality to protect one's guest's affections as well as to cure his wounds, 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 no one knows me. My assassin is the first man I have spoken to in this city; 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 that key."

      Gillonne smiled, and left the room.

      "But," continued Marguerite, "if you are alone in Paris, without friends, what will you do?"

      "Madame, I soon shall have friends enough, for while I was pursued I thought of my mother, who was a Catholic; methought I saw her with a cross in her hand gliding before me toward the Louvre, and I vowed that if 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 me love life."

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

      "Madame, I have made the experiment in the closet, I walk slowly and painfully, 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 speak of him? In changing your religion, have you also changed your desire to enter his service?"

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

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

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

      "’Tis

Скачать книгу