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Chicot the Jester
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“Where?”
“In my room.”
“Your room! I heard the cries of the people as he left the Louvre.”
“Yes; but after going out at the great door he came back by the postern. The king had the right to the first visit, but I to the second.”
“Ah, brother, I thank you for keeping up our prerogative, which I had the weakness so often to abandon. Go, then, François, and do your best.”
François bent down to kiss the king’s hand, but he, opening his arms, gave him a warm embrace, and then the duke left the room to go to his interview with the Duc de Guise. The king, seeing his brother gone, gave an angry growl, and rapidly made his way through the secret corridor, until he reached a hiding-place whence he could distinctly hear the conversation between the two dukes.
“Ventre de biche!” cried Chicot, starting up, “how touching these family scenes are! For an instant I believed myself in Olympus, assisting at the reunion of Castor and Pollux after six months’ separation.”
CHAPTER XXXIX.
IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT LISTENING IS THE BEST WAY TO HEAR
The Duc d’Anjou was well aware that there were few rooms in the Louvre which were not built so that what was said in them could be heard from the outside; but, completely seduced by his brother’s manner, he forgot to take any precautions.
“Why, monseigneur,” said the Duc de Guise, “how pale you are!”
“Visibly?”
“Yes, to me.”
“The king saw nothing?”
“I think not; but he retained you?”
“Yes.”
“And what did he say, monseigneur?”
“He approves the idea, but the more gigantic it appears, the more he hesitates to place a man like you at the head.”
“Then we are likely to fail.”
“I fear so, my dear duke; the League seems likely to fail.”
“Before it begins.”
At this moment Henri, hearing a noise, turned and saw Chicot by his side, listening also. “You followed me, Knave!” said he.
“Hush, my son,” said Chicot; “you prevent me from hearing.”
“Monseigneur,” said the Duc de Guise, “it seems to me that in this case the king would have refused at once. Does he wish to dispossess me?”
“I believe so.”
“Then he would ruin the enterprise?”
“Yes; but I aided you with all my power.”
“How, monseigneur?”
“In this – the king has left me almost master, to kill or reanimate the League.”
“How so?” cried the duke, with sparkling eyes.
“Why, if, instead of dissolving the League, he named me chief – ”
“Ah!” cried the duke, while the blood mounted to his face.
“Ah! the dogs are going to fight over their bones,” said Chicot; but to his surprise, and the king’s, the Duc de Guise suddenly became calm, and exclaimed, in an almost joyful tone:
“You are an adroit politician, monseigneur, if you did this.”
“Yes, I did; but I would not conclude anything without speaking to you.”
“Why so, monseigneur?”
“Because I did not know what it would lead us to.”
“Well, I will tell you, monseigneur, not to what it will lead us – that God alone knows – but how it will serve us. The League is a second army, and as I hold the first, and my brother the Church, nothing can resist us as long as we are united.”
“Without counting,” said the Duc d’Anjou, “that I am heir presumptive to the throne.”
“True, but still calculate your bad chances.”
“I have done so a hundred times.”
“There is, first, the King of Navarre.”
“Oh! I do not mind him; he is entirely occupied by his amours with La Fosseuse.”
“He, monseigneur, will dispute every inch with you; he watches you and your brother; he hungers for the throne. If any accident should happen to your brother, see if he will not be here with a bound from Pau to Paris.”
“An accident to my brother,” repeated François.
“Listen, Henri,” said Chicot.
“Yes, monseigneur,” said the Duc de Guise, “an accident. Accidents are not rare in your family; you know that, as well as I do. One prince is in good health, and all at once he falls ill of a lingering malady; another is counting on long years, when, perhaps, he has but a few hours to live.”
“Do you hear, Henri?” said Chicot, taking the hand of the king, who shuddered at what he heard.
“Yes, it is true,” said the Duc d’Anjou, “the princes of my house are born under fatal influences; but my brother Henri is, thank God, strong and well; he supported formerly the fatigues of war, and now that his life is nothing but recreation – ”
“Yes; but, monseigneur, remember one thing; these recreations are not always without danger. How did your father, Henri II., die, for example? He, who also had happily escaped the dangers of war. The wound by M. de Montgomery’s lance was an accident. Then your poor brother, François, one would hardly call a pain in the ears an accident, and yet it was one; at least, I have often heard it said that this mortal malady was poured into his ear by some one well known.”
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Да, первый рассказ из сборника, что я успела прочитать, что надо! И написано хорошо, и содержание необычное, но жизненное. Очень понравилось, хотя там...
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