An Enemy to the King Read online

  CHAPTER II.

  LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE

  The next morning was bright, and not too cold. At eleven I approached thegreat gate of the Louvre, wearing the bold demeanor of a man determinednot to be abashed, even by the presence of royalty. Yet within me therewas some slight trepidation lest I should, on first setting foot withinthe precincts of a palace, betray my rustic bringing up.

  Others were being admitted at the gate, and some were coming out, boththe King's council and the reception having been over for some time. Apage, who had been waiting just inside the court, came out as Iapproached, and asked me if I were M. de Launay. Astonished, that heshould have so easily picked me out, I replied that I was. He then saidthat he had come to conduct me to Monsieur the Marquis de Quelus, and Ifollowed him into the great courtyard of the Louvre.

  Before me was the imposing facade of the palace. Around me was ananimated scene of well-dressed gentlemen coming and going, meeting oneanother forming little groups for a moment's interchange of news orinquiries, and as quickly breaking up. There were soldiers on guard,officers on duty and off, courtiers in brilliant doublets, dazzlingruffs, rich hose; gentlemen with gay plumes, costly cloaks, jewelledsword-hilts. There were pages, strutting about with messages; lackeys,belonging only to the greatest nobles or royal favorites. Everybody,whether gentleman, soldier, household officer, priest, page, or valet,went with an air of great consequence, with head high in air, everystep, expression, and attitude proclaiming a sense of vast superiorityto the rest of the world. It was as if people attached to the court werean elevated race of beings; or as if the court were Olympus, and thesewere gods and the servitors of gods, who, very properly, regardedmortals with disdain. Each man, too, maintained not only this lofty airas befitting one of the court, but also an aspect of individualpreciousness as towards his fellow divinities. There was, in many a faceor bearing, an expressed resentment, in advance, of any affront thatmight be offered. The soldiers swaggered, the gentlemen showedself-esteem in every motion. Nevertheless, there was much good natureand courtesy in the salutations, fragments of conversation, andexchanges of gossip. Leaving the sunlit courtyard behind, the pageshowed me up a fine stairway, where some gentlemen tarried in littleparties, while others ascended or descended. We passed through largegalleries, the same animation continuing everywhere. I had no time, aswe passed, to examine the superb hangings and fanciful decorations ofthe galleries in detail. The clothes of the courtiers, the brilliantdisplay of velvet, silk, furs, and the finest linen, of every known hue,made a continually changing, moving panorama of color.

  We approached, at last, a group extraordinarily radiant in attire. It wascomposed of very young men, some of whom had hardly yet acquired thebeard required by the universal fashion. Even at a distance I could seethat their cheeks were painted, could note their affectation of feminineattitudes, could smell the perfumes with which they had deluged theirbodies. These were some of the favorites of the King, and more of theimitators of the favorites. No wonder that Bussy d'Amboise and the sturdygentlemen of the King's ungainly brother, Anjou, had a manly detestationfor these bedaubed effeminates, and sought opportunities to extirpatethem with the sword. Yet these dainty youths, one of whom was De Quelus,who now came forward to meet me, were not cowards.

  The young Marquis wore a slashed doublet of brown velvet and gold. Hissilken hose were of a lighter tint of brown. His ruff was so enormousthat he had to keep the point of his beard thrust forward at anelevation.

  "I shall present you when the King passes," he said to me. "I havealready spoken a word to Captain Duret, to whom you will reportto-morrow. He will make a veteran of you in a quarter of an hour. TheKing, by the way, knows of your family. He knows every family in France,for that matter. I spoke of you to him at his rising this morning. Hesaid that your father was a Huguenot, and I told him that you also wereProtestant. You know enough of things in France to be aware that yourProtestantism stands a little in your way at court, just now; but thingsmay change before there is a vacant captaincy in the Guards."

  People who have thought it bad enough that I should have gone to Paris,instead of to the court of Henri of Navarre, have been astonished,beyond expression, at my having desired to serve in the King's infantry,which, in the event of another civil war, might be arrayed against thearmy of our faith. But it must be borne in mind that I had this desireat a time when none knew how the different armies might be placedtowards one another in the civil war, which everybody admitted must, atsome time or other, occur. I was one of the many who believed that theDuke of Guise, using the newly formed Holy League as his instrument,would aim for the throne of France; that King Henri III. would beforced, in self-defence, to make an alliance with the Huguenot leaders;and that, therefore, I, in fulfilling my ambition to be of this King'sown soldiers, with quarters in or near Paris in time of peace, would, atthe outbreak of civil war, find myself in line with the armies of ourfaith, opposed to the common enemy, the great Catholic Guise faction. Ofthe various predictions as to the future of France, I chose this one,perhaps because it was the only one which permitted me to follow out mywishes without outraging my sense of duty.

  Before I could answer De Quelus, a voice said, "The King!" At the end ofthe gallery, where two halberdiers and two ushers stood, a pair ofcurtains had quickly parted, and out came a slender young man all velvet,silk, gold, and jewels; with the legs and the walk of a woman; with facepainted like a courtesan's; a very slight beard on his chin, and a weakgrowth of hair on his upper lip; with a look half brazen, halfshamefaced; with eyes half wistful, half malicious; his pear-shaped faceexpressing some love of the beautiful, some wit, some cynicism, muchpersonal vanity, vicious inclinations and practices, restlessness, thetorture of secret self-reproach, a vague distress, a longing to escapesomewhere and be at peace.

  He wore ear-rings, a necklace, bracelets, and a small jewelled velvetcap; but he was without his famous basket of little dogs. This was HenriIII., and he was going to pray in one of the churches.

  As he came down the gallery, he noticed De Quelus, from afar, and thenglanced at me. When he was before us, De Quelus made obeisance andpresented me. Before I could finish my bow, the King said:

  "Ah, it was your sword that helped to preserve my chamberlain from theambush laid for him?" (From which it appeared that De Quelus had givenhis own account of the previous night's occurrence.) "And you wish toenlist in my regiment of French Guards? My faith, I have done well inreestablishing that corps, if such brave young gentlemen are induced toenter it. I'll wager you hope to earn a commission soon."

  I could only reply: "Such a hope is beyond my deserts, sire."

  It was indeed beyond them, for I had seen no military service; but it wasnot beyond them for any other reason.

  "Nothing is beyond the deserts of one whose sword is always loyal," saidthe King, with intended significance, and passed on; his gentlemenfalling in behind him. De Quelus gave me directions as to my reporting,on the morrow, to Captain Duret, and added, "Rely on me for any favor orprivilege that you may wish, and for access to the palace. You have onlyto send me word." He then joined the following of the King.

  I seemed now at liberty to remain in the Louvre as long as I mightchoose, having once entered it. I thought I would look about, knowingthat if at any time I should be about to trespass on forbidden ground,there would be guards to hinder me. I went first to a window overlookingthe court. I had no sooner turned my eyes down upon the splendid andanimated scene below, then I felt a touch on my elbow. Looking around, Isaw a familiar face,--that of M. de Rilly, another Anjou gentleman, whomI had known before his coming to court. He was now one of the King'sequerries.

  He was a sprightly man of about thirty, with none of the effeminacy thatmarked so many of the officers of the King's household. Though not of myreligion, he made me heartily welcome, and undertook, at once, toinitiate me into the mysteries of the court. He was a loquacious,open-minded man, who did not fear to express his thoughts, even in theshadow of ro
yalty itself.

  Hearing some clatter in the direction whither the King had gone, I lookedafter him. A short, compact young gentleman, plainly, but richly dressed,slightly stooping, with a rather surly face, and an envious eye, wascoming towards the King. He wore riding-boots and a cloak, and behindhim came a troop of young men similarly attired. The foremost of them wasBussy d'Amboise, expressing defiance in every line of his bold, squarecountenance.

  "Ah," said De Rilly, "there is the Duke of Anjou, who has been riding inthe faubourg."

  I took a second look at the surly gentleman. At this moment he exchangedglances with his brother, the King. The look of each was eloquent. TheKing's said, "I hate you for being a disloyal brother and a fractioussubject; for conspiring to take away part of my kingdom; and who knowsbut that you are secretly aiming at my throne and my life?" The youngerbrother's look conveyed this much: "I hate you for your suspicions of me;for your not obtaining for me in your court the respect due the son andbrother of a king; for encouraging your favorites to ridicule me. If I amdriven to rebel against you, it is your own fault."

  The King received the Duke's perfunctory salutation indifferently, andpassed on. Anjou and his men turned into a gallery leading to his ownapartments.

  "I see that everybody is following the King," I said.

  "Yes, but not I," replied De Rilly. "I find it no more amusing to praywhen the King does than at any other time. I came here, this morning, tocatch a glimpse of one of the Queen's ladies, but her Majesty has a cold,and my lady is in attendance."

  "Which of the Queens has a cold?"

  "Queen Louise, the King's wife. It is true, one may well ask which, whenthere is mention of the Queen nowadays. The Queen of France is a smallfactor when compared with the King's mother, Queen Catherine, or evenwith his sister, the Queen of Navarre, whose name is on everyone'stongue, on account of her love affairs, and of her suspected plots."

  "What plots?"

  "Some think she plots with the Duke of Guise, who cannot wait to ruleFrance until Catherine's sons are both dead,--but Catherine will makehim wait. Others believe that she plots with her Huguenot husband, theKing of Navarre, to join him; and that the King keeps her here virtuallya prisoner, lest her departure might be taken as a concession to theHuguenots; and, lastly and chiefly, they aver that she plots with herbrother Anjou, to help him to join the Huguenots and malcontents astheir leader."

  "This is very interesting, M. de Rilly; but, pardon me, is it safe to saythese things openly at court? I am fresh from the country, and anxiousnot to blunder."

  "It is safe for me, because I am nobody at all, and, moreover, I saywhatever is in my thoughts, and am looked upon as a rattlebrain, and nottaken seriously. But it would not be safe for some. There comes the Queenof Navarre now. She and her ladies have been walking in their garden."

  A number of ladies were entering the gallery from a side stairway.Marguerite de Valois, who ought to have been with her husband, the Kingof Navarre, at his little court at Nerac, remained instead at the courtof France, to be its greatest ornament. She was, alas, its greatestscandal, also. But I admired her none the less for that, as she stoodthere, erect among her women, full of color and grace. Vast possibilitiesof mischief seemed buried in the depths of the big and brilliant eyeswhich gave so much life to the small, round face.

  While she stood still for one of her maids to detach from her ruff adead leaf that had dropped there during her walk, Bussy d'Amboisereturned from Anjou's apartment. He walked up to her with a conqueringair, bowed, and said something that made her laugh. Then he lookedaround and saw me. He spoke to her again, in a low tone, and she casther fine eyes in my direction. She directed her ladies to fall back outof hearing, and again conferred with Bussy. At the end of this he lefther, and strode over to me.

  "Monsieur," he said, "the Queen of Navarre would like to know your name.I do not remember to have heard it last night."

  I told him my name, and he took me by the arm, led me to Marguerite, andpresented me, somewhat to my confusion, so rapidly was the thing done.

  "You are a newcomer at court?" she said.

  "I arrived in Paris only yesterday."

  "And have taken service with--whom?"

  "In the French Guards."

  "We shall doubtless hear more of your skill with the sword," saidMarguerite.

  "I knew not I had any," I replied, "until I found out that I could standup for a minute against the sword I met last night. Now I am glad to knowthat I possess skill, that I may hold it ever at the service of yourMajesty as well as of the King."

  This speech seemed to be exactly what Marguerite had desired of me, forshe smiled and said, "I shall not forget you, M. de la Tournoire," beforeshe turned away.

  Bussy followed her, and I returned to De Rilly.

  "Why should they pay any attention to me?" I said to him.

  "No newcomer is too insignificant to be sought as an ally where there areso many parties," he replied, indifferently. "Those two are with Anjou,who may have use for as many adherents as he can get one of these days.They say he is always meditating rebellion with the Huguenots or thePolitiques, or both, and I don't blame a prince who is so shabbilytreated at court."

  "But what could a mere guardsman do, without friends or influence?Besides, my military duties--"

  "Will leave you plenty of time to get into other troubles, if you findthem amusing. How do you intend to pass the rest of the day?"

  "I have no plans. I should like to see more of the Louvre on my firstvisit; and, to tell the truth, I had hoped to find out more about acertain lady who belongs to the court."

  "What do you know of her?"

  "Only that she has a beautiful figure and a pretty mouth and chin. Shewore a mask, but I should recognize her voice if I heard it again."

  "I wish you better luck than I have had to-day."

  Marguerite and her damsels had turned down a corridor leading to herapartments. Bussy d'Amboise was disappearing down the stairs. There came,from another direction, the lively chatter of women's voices, and thereappeared, at the head of the stairs up which Marguerite had come, anothergroup of ladies, all young and radiant but one. The exception was astout, self-possessed looking woman of middle age, dressed rathersedately in dark satin. She had regular features, calm black eyes, anunruffled expression, and an air of authority without arrogance.

  "Queen Catherine and some of her Flying Squadron," said De Rilly, inanswer to my look of inquiry. "She has been taking the air after theKing's council. Her own council is a more serious matter, and lasts allthe time."

  "Queen Catherine?" I exclaimed, incredulously, half refusing to see, inthat placid matron, the ceaseless plotter, the woman accused of poisoningand all manner of bloodshed, whom the name represented.

  "Catherine de Medici," said De Rilly, evidently finding it a pleasure toinstruct a newcomer as to the personages and mysteries of the court. "Shewho preserves the royal power in France at this moment."

  "She does not look as I have imagined her," I said.

  "One would not suppose," said De Rilly, "that behind that serenecountenance goes on the mental activity necessary to keep the throne inpossession of her favorite son, who spends fortunes on his minions, taxeshis subjects to the utmost, and disgusts them with his eccentric pietyand peculiar vices."

  "Dare one say such things in the very palace of that King?"

  "Why not say what every one knows? It is what people say in hiddenplaces that is dangerous."

  "I wonder what is passing in the Queen-mother's mind at this moment," Isaid, as Catherine turned into the corridor leading to Anjou'sapartments.

  In the light of subsequent events, I can now give a better answer to thatquery than De Rilly, himself, could have given then. Catherine had to useher wits to check the deep designs of Henri, Duke of Guise, who wasbiding his time to claim the throne as the descendant of Charlemagne, andwas as beloved of the populace as Henri III. was odious to it. Thanks tothe rebellion of Huguenots and malcontents, Guise had
been kept too busyin the field to prosecute his political designs. As head of the Catholicparty, and heir to his father's great military reputation, he could not,consistently, avoid the duties assigned him by the crown. That theseduties might not cease, Catherine found it to her interest that rebellionshould continue indefinitely. The Huguenot party, in its turn, was keptby the Guise or Catholic party from assaults on the crown. In fine, whileboth great factions were occupied with each other, neither could threatenthe King. This discord, on which she relied to keep her unpopular sonsafe on his throne, was fomented by her in secret ways. She shifted fromside to side, as circumstances required. The parties must be maintained,in order that discontent might vent itself in factional contest, and notagainst the King. The King must belong to neither party, in order not tobe of the party that might be ultimately defeated; yet he must belong toboth parties, in order to be of the party that might ultimately triumph.To the maintainance of this impossible situation was the genius ofCatherine de Medici successfully devoted for many years of universaldiscontent and bloodshed.

  Now the Duke of Guise had found a way to turn these circumstances toaccount. Since the King of France could not hold down the Huguenots, theHoly Catholic League, composed of Catholics of every class throughout themost of France, would undertake the task. He foresaw that he, as leaderof the League, would earn from the Catholics a gratitude that would makehim the most powerful man in the kingdom. Catherine, too, saw this. Toneutralize this move, she caused the King to endorse the League andappoint himself its head. The Huguenots must not take this as a stepagainst them; on the contrary, they must be led to regard it as a shrewdmeasure to restrain the League. The King's first official edicts, afterassuming the leadership of the League, seemed to warrant this view. Sothe King, in a final struggle against the Guise elements, might stillrely on the aid of the Huguenots. But the King still remained outside ofthe League, although nominally its chief. Catherine saw that it was notto be deluded from its real purpose. The only thing to do was toconciliate the Duke of Guise into waiting. There was little likelihood ofeither of her sons attaining middle age. The Duke of Guise, a splendidspecimen of physical manhood, would doubtless outlive them; he might beinduced to wait for their deaths. The rightful successor to the thronewould then be Henri of Navarre, head of the Bourbon family. But he was aHuguenot; therefore Catherine affected to the Duke of Guise a greatdesire that he should succeed her sons. The existing peace allowed theDuke of Guise the leisure in which to be dangerous; so every means tokeep him quiet was taken.

  Some of these things De Rilly told me, as we stood in the embrasure of awindow in the gallery, while Catherine visited her son, Anjou,--whosediscontent at court complicated the situation, for he might, at any time,leave Paris and lead the Huguenots and malcontents in a rebellion whichwould further discredit her family with the people, demonstrate anew theKing's incompetence, and give the League an opportunity.

  "And does the Duke of Guise allow himself to be cajoled?" I asked DeRilly.

  "Who knows? He is a cautious man, anxious to make no false step. Theysay he would be willing to wait for the death of the King, but that he isever being urged to immediate action by De Noyard."

  "De Noyard?"

  "One of Guise's followers; an obscure gentleman of very great virtue, whohas recently become Guise's most valued counsellor. He keeps Guise on hisguard against Catherine's wiles, they say, and discourages Guise's amourwith her daughter, Marguerite, which Catherine has an interest inmaintaining. Nobody is more _de trop_ to Catherine just at present, Ihear, than this same Philippe de Noyard. Ah! there he is now,--in thecourtyard, the tallest of the gentlemen who have just dismounted, and arecoming in this direction, with the Duke of Guise."

  I looked out of the window, and at once recognized the Duke of Guise bythe great height of his slender but strong figure, the splendid bearing,the fine oval face, with its small mustache, slight fringe of beard, andits scar, and the truly manly and magnificent manner, of which report hadtold us. He wore a doublet of cloth of silver, a black cloak of velvet,and a black hat with the Lorraine cross on its front. The tallest man inhis following--Philippe de Noyard, of whom De Rilly had just beenspeaking--was the gentleman whom I had met on the road to Paris, and whohad refused to fight me after resenting my opinion of the Duke of Guise.

  He must have arrived in Paris close behind me.

  I was watching Guise and his gentlemen as they crossed the court to enterthe palace, when suddenly I heard behind me the voice that had lingeredin my ears all the previous night. I turned hastily around, and saw agroup of Catherine's ladies, who stood around a fireplace, not havingfollowed the Queen-mother to Anjou's apartments.

  "Who is the lady leaning against the tapestry?" I quickly asked De Rilly.

  "The one with the indolent attitude, and the mocking smile?"

  "Yes, the very beautiful one, with the big gray eyes. By heaven, her eyesrival those of Marguerite, herself!"

  "That is Mlle. d'Arency, a new recruit to Catherine's Flying Squadron."

  Her face more than carried out the promise given by her chin and mouth.It expressed to the eye all that the voice expressed to the ear.

  She had not seen me yet. I had almost made up my mind to go boldly overto her, when the Duke of Guise and his gentlemen entered the gallery. Atthe same instant, Catherine reappeared on the arm of the Duke of Anjou.The latter resigned her to the Duke of Guise, and went back to hisapartment, whereupon Catherine and Guise started for the further end ofthe gallery, as if for private conversation. His manner was courteous,but cold; hers calm and amiable.

  "Ah, see!" whispered De Rilly to me. "What did I tell you?"

  Catherine had cast a glance towards Guise's gentlemen. De Noyard, graveand reserved, stood a little apart from the others. For an instant, alook of profound displeasure, a deeply sinister look, interrupted thecomposure of Catherine's features.

  "You see that M. de Noyard does not have the effect on the Queen-motherthat a rose in her path would have," remarked De Rilly.

  He did not notice what followed. But I observed it, although not tilllong afterward did I see its significance. It was a mere exchange ofglances, and little did I read in it the secret which was destined tohave so vast an effect on my own life, to give my whole career itscourse. It was no more than this: Catherine turned her glance, quickly,from De Noyard to Mlle. d'Arency, who had already been observing her.Mlle. d'Arency gave, in reply, an almost imperceptible smile ofunderstanding; then Catherine and Guise passed on.

  Two looks, enduring not a moment; yet, had I known what was behind them,my life would assuredly have run an entirely different course.

  The gentlemen of the Duke of Guise now joined Catherine's ladies at thefireplace. For a time, Mlle. d'Arency was thus lost to my sight; then thegroup opened, and I saw her resting her great eyes, smilingly, on theface of De Noyard, who was talking to her in a low tone, his gaze fixedupon her with an expression of wistful adoration.

  "The devil!" I muttered. "That man loves her."

  "My faith!" said De Rilly, "one would think he was treading on your toesin doing so; yet you do not even know her."

  "She is the woman I have chosen to be in love with, nevertheless," Isaid.

  It seemed as if the Duke of Guise had come to the Louvre solely for aword with the Queen-mother, for now he took his departure, followed byhis suite, while Catherine went to her own apartments. As De Noyardpassed out, he saw me. His face showed that he recognized me, and that hewondered what I was doing in the palace. There was nothing of offence inhis look, only a slight curiosity.

  De Rilly now expressed an intention of going out to take the air, but Ipreferred to stay where I was; for Mlle. d'Arency had remained in thegallery, with some other of Catherine's ladies. So the loquacious equerrywent without me.

  I formed a bold resolution. Quelling the trepidation that came with it, Istrode quickly over to Mlle. d'Arency, who still stood against thetapestry as if she had been a figure in it but had come to life andstepped out int
o the apartment.

  Her large eyes fell on me, and opened slightly wider, showing at oncerecognition and a not unpleasant surprise. I bowed very low, partly toconceal the flush that I felt mounting to my face.

  "Pardon me, Mlle. d'Arency," I said, in a voice as steady as I could makeit. Then I looked at her and saw her features assuming an expression ofsuch coldness and astonishment that for some time neither my tongue normy mind could continue the speech, nor could I move a step in retreat.All the while she kept her eyes upon me.

  I drew a deep breath at last, and said in desperation:

  "Doubtless I ought not to address you, being unknown to you, but if youwill permit me, I will go and bring M. de Rilly, who will present me."

  Her face softened somewhat, and she looked amused. "You seem quite ableto present yourself," she said.

  I was immensely relieved at this melting of the ice, just when I wasbeginning to feel that I was becoming a spectacle.

  "I am Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire," I said, and to fill upthe embarrassing pause that followed, I added, "and, being a Huguenot, Iam a nobody in Paris,--in fact, a mere volunteer in the French Guards."

  "Well, Monsieur Guardsman, what do you wish to say to me?"

  She was now in quite a pleasant, quizzical mood.

  "I trust you do not expect me to say it in one word," I answered; andthen I lowered my voice, "or in a single interview."

  "It does not matter how many interviews it requires, if it isinteresting," she answered nonchalantly.

  "Alas!" I said. "I fear it is a story which many others have told you."

  "An old story may seem new, when it comes from new lips."

  "And when it is new to the lips that tell it, as mine is. Actually, Ihave never before made a confession of love."

  "Am I to understand that you are about to make one now?"

  "Have I not already made it?" I said.

  We now stood quite apart from all others in the gallery, unnoticed bythem; and our voices had fallen almost to a whisper.

  She smiled, as if refusing to take my words seriously.

  "If you have waited so long before making any confession of lovewhatever," she said, "you have certainly made up for the delay by thespeed which you use in making your first."

  "On the contrary, I have had my confession ready for a long time, as mylove has existed for a long time. I waited only to meet its object,--thewoman of whom I had formed the ideal in my mind."

  She looked as if about to burst into a laugh; but she changed her mind,and regarded me with a look of inquiry, as if she would read my heart.The smile was still on her lips, yet she spoke gravely when she said:

  "Monsieur, I cannot make you out. If you are as sincere as you areoriginal,--but I must go to the Queen-mother now. To-morrow afternoon, Ishall walk in the gardens of the Tuileries, if the weather is clear."

  "But one moment, I beg! M. de Noyard,--he is in love with you, is henot?"

  Her face again took on its mocking look. "I have not asked him," she saidlightly. Then she regarded me with a new and peculiar expression, as ifsome daring idea had come into her mind, some project which had to bemeditated upon before it might be safely breathed.

  "You look at me strangely, mademoiselle."

  "Oh, I merely wonder at your curiosity in regard to M. de Noyard."

  "My curiosity is not in regard to his feelings, but in regard to yours."

  "Monsieur," she said, with a very captivating air of reproach, "have Inot told you that I shall walk in the gardens of the Tuileries to-morrowafternoon?"

  And she glided away, leaving behind her the most delighted and conceitedyoung man, at that moment, in France.