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Marguerite de Valois
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"He flees!" murmured the Duc d'Alençon; "then I am king!"
At that instant, while François and his mother were still before the window, the drawbridge thundered under horses' hoofs and preceded by a clanking of arms and great noise a young man galloped up, his hat in his hand, shouting as he entered the court: "France!" He was followed by four gentlemen, covered like himself with perspiration, dust, and foam.
"My son!" exclaimed Catharine, extending both arms out of the window.
"Mother!" replied the young man, springing from his steed.
"My brother D'Anjou!" cried François, stepping back in amazement.
"Am I too late?" asked Henry d'Anjou.
"No, just in time, and God must have guided you, for you could not have arrived at a better moment. Look and listen!"
Monsieur de Nancey, captain of the guards, had come out upon the balcony from the chamber of the King.
All eyes were turned towards him.
Breaking a wand in two, with arms extended, he took a piece in either hand and cried three times:
"King Charles IX. is dead! King Charles IX. is dead! King Charles IX. is dead!"
Then he dropped the pieces of the wand.
"Long live King Henry III.!" shouted Catharine, making the sign of the cross. "Long live King Henry III.!"
All took up the cry except Duc François.
"Ah, she has betrayed me!" murmured he, digging his nails into his breast.
"I have won," cried Catharine, "and that hateful Béarnais will not reign!"
CHAPTER LXVI
EPILOGUE
One year had elapsed since the death of Charles IX. and the accession of his successor to the throne.
King Henry III., happily reigning by the grace of God and his mother Catharine, was attending a fine procession given in honor of Notre Dame de Cléry.
He had gone on foot with the queen, his wife, and all the court.
King Henry III. could well afford this little pastime, for no serious business occupied him for the moment. The King of Navarre was in Navarre, where he had so long desired to be, and where he was said to be very much taken up with a beautiful girl of the blood of the Montmorencies whom he called La Fosseuse. Marguerite was with him, sad and gloomy, finding in the beautiful mountains not distraction but a softening of the two greatest griefs of life, – absence and death.
Paris was very quiet and the queen mother, really regent since her dear son Henry had been King, resided sometimes at the Louvre, sometimes at the Hôtel de Soissons, which occupied the site to-day covered by the Halle au Blé, of which nothing remains beyond the beautiful column which is still standing.
One evening when she was deeply engaged in studying the stars with Réné, of whose little act of treason she was still ignorant, and who had been reinstated in her favor after the false testimony he had so opportunely given at the trial of Coconnas and La Mole, she was informed that a man waited for her in her oratory with something to tell her of the greatest importance.
Hastily descending, the queen found the Sire de Maurevel.
"He is here!" cried the ancient captain of the guards, not giving Catharine time to address him, according to royal etiquette.
"What he?" demanded Catharine.
"Who but the King of Navarre, madame!"
"Here!" said Catharine, "here! He – Henry – And what has he come for, the madman?"
"If appearances are to be believed, he comes to see Madame de Sauve. That is all. If probabilities are to be considered, he comes to conspire against the King."
"How do you know he is here?"
"Yesterday I saw him enter a house, and an instant later Madame de Sauve joined him there."
"Are you sure it was he?"
"I waited until he came out, that is, part of the night. At three o'clock the two lovers appeared. The king led Madame de Sauve as far as the gate of the Louvre, where, thanks to the porter, who no doubt is in her pay, she was admitted without opposition, and the king returned, humming a tune, and with a step as free as if he were among his own mountains."
"Where did he go then?"
"To the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, Hôtel de la Belle Étoile, the same inn in which the two sorcerers used to lodge whom your majesty had executed a year ago."
"Why did you not come and tell me this at once?"
"Because I was not yet sure of my man."
"And now?"
"Now I am certain."
"Did you see him?"
"Yes. I hid in a wine merchant's opposite. I saw him enter the same building as on the previous night. Then as Madame de Sauve was late he imprudently put his face against the window pane on the first floor, and I had no further doubt. Besides, a few minutes later Madame de Sauve came and again joined him."
"Do you think that like last night they will remain until three o'clock in the morning?"
"It is probable."
"Where is the house?"
"Near the Croix des Petits Champs, close to Saint Honoré."
"Very good," said Catharine. "Does Monsieur de Sauve know your handwriting?"
"No."
"Sit down, then, and write."
Maurevel took a pen and obeyed.
At that instant, while François and his mother were still before the window, the drawbridge thundered under horses' hoofs and preceded by a clanking of arms and great noise a young man galloped up, his hat in his hand, shouting as he entered the court: "France!" He was followed by four gentlemen, covered like himself with perspiration, dust, and foam.
"My son!" exclaimed Catharine, extending both arms out of the window.
"Mother!" replied the young man, springing from his steed.
"My brother D'Anjou!" cried François, stepping back in amazement.
"Am I too late?" asked Henry d'Anjou.
"No, just in time, and God must have guided you, for you could not have arrived at a better moment. Look and listen!"
Monsieur de Nancey, captain of the guards, had come out upon the balcony from the chamber of the King.
All eyes were turned towards him.
Breaking a wand in two, with arms extended, he took a piece in either hand and cried three times:
"King Charles IX. is dead! King Charles IX. is dead! King Charles IX. is dead!"
Then he dropped the pieces of the wand.
"Long live King Henry III.!" shouted Catharine, making the sign of the cross. "Long live King Henry III.!"
All took up the cry except Duc François.
"Ah, she has betrayed me!" murmured he, digging his nails into his breast.
"I have won," cried Catharine, "and that hateful Béarnais will not reign!"
CHAPTER LXVI
EPILOGUE
One year had elapsed since the death of Charles IX. and the accession of his successor to the throne.
King Henry III., happily reigning by the grace of God and his mother Catharine, was attending a fine procession given in honor of Notre Dame de Cléry.
He had gone on foot with the queen, his wife, and all the court.
King Henry III. could well afford this little pastime, for no serious business occupied him for the moment. The King of Navarre was in Navarre, where he had so long desired to be, and where he was said to be very much taken up with a beautiful girl of the blood of the Montmorencies whom he called La Fosseuse. Marguerite was with him, sad and gloomy, finding in the beautiful mountains not distraction but a softening of the two greatest griefs of life, – absence and death.
Paris was very quiet and the queen mother, really regent since her dear son Henry had been King, resided sometimes at the Louvre, sometimes at the Hôtel de Soissons, which occupied the site to-day covered by the Halle au Blé, of which nothing remains beyond the beautiful column which is still standing.
One evening when she was deeply engaged in studying the stars with Réné, of whose little act of treason she was still ignorant, and who had been reinstated in her favor after the false testimony he had so opportunely given at the trial of Coconnas and La Mole, she was informed that a man waited for her in her oratory with something to tell her of the greatest importance.
Hastily descending, the queen found the Sire de Maurevel.
"He is here!" cried the ancient captain of the guards, not giving Catharine time to address him, according to royal etiquette.
"What he?" demanded Catharine.
"Who but the King of Navarre, madame!"
"Here!" said Catharine, "here! He – Henry – And what has he come for, the madman?"
"If appearances are to be believed, he comes to see Madame de Sauve. That is all. If probabilities are to be considered, he comes to conspire against the King."
"How do you know he is here?"
"Yesterday I saw him enter a house, and an instant later Madame de Sauve joined him there."
"Are you sure it was he?"
"I waited until he came out, that is, part of the night. At three o'clock the two lovers appeared. The king led Madame de Sauve as far as the gate of the Louvre, where, thanks to the porter, who no doubt is in her pay, she was admitted without opposition, and the king returned, humming a tune, and with a step as free as if he were among his own mountains."
"Where did he go then?"
"To the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, Hôtel de la Belle Étoile, the same inn in which the two sorcerers used to lodge whom your majesty had executed a year ago."
"Why did you not come and tell me this at once?"
"Because I was not yet sure of my man."
"And now?"
"Now I am certain."
"Did you see him?"
"Yes. I hid in a wine merchant's opposite. I saw him enter the same building as on the previous night. Then as Madame de Sauve was late he imprudently put his face against the window pane on the first floor, and I had no further doubt. Besides, a few minutes later Madame de Sauve came and again joined him."
"Do you think that like last night they will remain until three o'clock in the morning?"
"It is probable."
"Where is the house?"
"Near the Croix des Petits Champs, close to Saint Honoré."
"Very good," said Catharine. "Does Monsieur de Sauve know your handwriting?"
"No."
"Sit down, then, and write."
Maurevel took a pen and obeyed.
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Последний отзыв
В борьбе за власть есть первые; есть вторые; и есть 6ыдло (из канала BS "Без Слёз").
- Вторые всегда стремятся стать первыми. Но ресурсы власти – у п...
Далее