CHAPTER XVI.
A DEAD ENEMY'S BODY ALWAYS SMELLS SWEET.
No brilliant company, however, could give any idea of this spectacle.The rich and elegant silk dresses, bequeathed as a magnificent fashionby Francois I. to his successors, had not yet been changed into thoseformal and sombre vestments which came into fashion under Henry III.; sothat the costume of Charles IX., less rich, but perhaps more elegantthan those of preceding reigns, displayed its perfect harmony. In ourday no similar cortege could have any standard of comparison, for whenwe wish magnificence of display we are reduced to mere symmetry anduniform.
Pages, esquires, gentlemen of low degree, dogs and horses, following onthe flanks and in the rear, formed of the royal cortege an absolutearmy. Behind this army came the populace, or rather the populace waseverywhere.
It followed, trooped alongside, and rushed ahead; there were shouts of_Noel_ and _Haro_, for there were distinguishable in the procession manyCalvinists to hoot at, and the populace harbors resentment.
That morning Charles, in presence of Catharine and the Duc de Guise,had, as a perfectly natural thing spoken before Henry of Navarre ofgoing to visit the gibbet of Montfaucon, or, rather, the admiral'smutilated corpse which had been suspended from it. Henry's first impulsehad been to refuse to take part in this excursion. Catharine supposed hewould. At the first words in which he expressed his repugnance sheexchanged a glance and a smile with the Duc de Guise. Henry detectedthem both, understood what they meant, and suddenly recovering hispresence of mind said:
"But why should I not go? I am a Catholic, and am bound to my newreligion."
Then addressing the King:
"Your Majesty may reckon on my company," he said; "and I shall be alwayshappy to accompany you wheresoever you may go."
And he threw a sweeping glance around, to see whose brows might befrowning.
Perhaps of all that cortege, the person who was looked at with thegreatest curiosity was that motherless son, that kingless king, thatHuguenot turned Catholic. His long and marked countenance, his somewhatvulgar figure, his familiarity with his inferiors, which he carried to adegree almost derogatory to a king,--a familiarity acquired by themountaineer habits of his youth, and which he preserved till hisdeath,--marked him out to the spectators, some of whom cried:
"To mass, Harry, to mass!"
To which Henry replied:
"I attended it yesterday, to-day, and I shall attend it again to-morrow._Ventre saint gris!_ surely that is sufficient."
Marguerite was on horseback--so lovely, so fresh, so elegant thatadmiration made a regular concert around her, though it must beconfessed that a few notes of it were addressed to her companion, theDuchesse de Nevers, who had just joined her on a white horse so proud ofhis burden that he kept tossing his head.
"Well, duchess!" said the Queen of Navarre, "what is there new?"
"Why, madame," replied the duchess, aloud, "I know of nothing."
Then in a lower tone:
"And what has become of the Huguenot?"
"I have found him a retreat almost safe," replied Marguerite. "And thewholesale assassin, what have you done with him?"
"He wished to take part in the festivity, and so we mounted him onMonsieur de Nevers' war-horse, a creature as big as an elephant. He is afearful cavalier. I allowed him to be present at the ceremony to-day, asI felt that your Huguenot would be prudent enough to keep his chamberand that there was no fear of their meeting."
"Oh, faith!" replied Marguerite, smiling, "if he were here, and he isnot here, I do not think a collision would take place. My Huguenot isremarkably handsome, but nothing more--a dove, and not a hawk; he coos,but does not bite. After all," she added, with a gesture impossible todescribe, and shrugging her shoulders slightly, "after all, perhaps ourKing thought him a Huguenot while he is only a Brahmin, and his religionforbids him to shed blood."
"But where, pray, is the Duc d'Alencon?" inquired Henriette; "I do notsee him."
"He will join us later; his eyes troubled him this morning and he wasinclined not to come, but as it is known that because he holds adifferent opinion from Charles and his brother Henry he inclines towardthe Huguenots, he became convinced that the King might put a badinterpretation on his absence and he changed his mind. There, hark!people are gazing and shouting yonder; it must be that he is coming bythe Porte Montmartre."
"You are right; 'tis he; I recognize him. How elegant he looks to-day,"said Henriette. "For some time he has taken particular pains with hisappearance; he must be in love. See how nice it is to be a prince of theblood, he gallops over every one, they all draw on one side."
"Yes," said Marguerite, laughing, "he will ride over us. For Heaven'ssake draw your attendants to one side, duchess, for there is one of themwho will be killed if he does not give way."
"It is my hero!" cried the duchess; "look, only look!"
Coconnas had left his place to approach the Duchesse de Nevers, but justas his horse was crossing the kind of exterior boulevard which separatesthe street from the Faubourg Saint Denis, a cavalier of the Ducd'Alencon's suite, trying in vain to rein in his excited horse, dashedfull against Coconnas. Coconnas, shaken by the collision, reeled on hiscolossal mount, his hat nearly fell off; he put it on more firmly andturned round furiously.
"Heavens!" said Marguerite, in a low tone, to her friend, "Monsieur dela Mole!"
"That handsome, pale young man?" exclaimed the duchess, unable torepress her first impression.
"Yes, yes; the very one who nearly upset your Piedmontese."
"Oh," said the duchess, "something terrible will happen! they look ateach other--recollect each other!"
Coconnas had indeed recognized La Mole, and in his surprise dropped hisbridle, for he believed he had killed his old companion, or at least puthim _hors de combat_ for some time. La Mole had also recognizedCoconnas, and he felt a fire mount up into his face. For some seconds,which sufficed for the expression of all the sentiments these two menharbored, they gazed at each other in a way which made the two womenshudder.
After which, La Mole, having looked about him, and doubtless seeing thatthe place was ill chosen for an explanation, spurred his horse andrejoined the Duc d'Alencon. Coconnas remained stationary for a moment,twisting his mustache until the point almost entered his eye; thenseeing La Mole dash off without a word, he did the same.
"Ah, ha!" said Marguerite, with pain and contempt, "so I was notmistaken--it is really too much;" and she bit her lips till the bloodcame.
"He is very handsome," added the Duchesse de Nevers, with commiseration.
Just at this moment the Duc d'Alencon reached his place behind the Kingand the queen mother, so that his suite, in following him, were obligedto pass before Marguerite and the Duchesse de Nevers. La Mole, as herode before the two princesses, raised his hat, saluted the queen, and,bowing to his horse's neck, remained uncovered until her majesty shouldhonor him with a look.
But Marguerite turned her head aside disdainfully.
La Mole, no doubt, comprehended the contemptuous expression of thequeen's features, and from pale he became livid, and that he might notfall from his horse was compelled to hold on by the mane.
"Oh, oh!" said Henriette to the queen; "look, cruel that you are!--he isgoing to faint."
"Good," said the queen, with a cruel smile; "that is the only thing weneed. Where are your salts?"
Madame de Nevers was mistaken. La Mole, with an effort, recoveredhimself, and sitting erect on his horse took his place in the Ducd'Alencon's suite.
Meantime they kept on their way and at length saw the lugubrious outlineof the gibbet, erected and first used by Enguerrand de Marigny. Neverbefore had it been so adorned.
The ushers and guards went forward and made a wide circle around theenclosure. As they drew near, the crows perched on the gibbet flew awaywith croakings of despair.
The gibbet erected at Montfaucon generally offered behind its posts ashelter for the dogs that gathered there attracted by frequent prey, and
for philosophic bandits who came to ponder on the sad chances offortune.
That day at Montfaucon there were apparently neither dogs nor bandits.The ushers and guards had scared away the dogs together with the crows,and the bandits had mingled with the throng so as to make some of thelucky hits which are the more cheerful vicissitudes of their profession.
The procession moved forward; the King and Catharine arrived first, thencame the Duc d'Anjou, Duc d'Alencon, the King of Navarre, Monsieur deGuise, and their followers, then Madame Marguerite, the Duchesse deNevers, and all the women who composed what was called the queen'sflying squadron; then the pages, squires, attendants, and people--in allten thousand persons.
From the principal gibbet hung a misshapen mass, a black corpse stainedwith coagulated blood and mud, whitened by layers of dust. The carcasswas headless, and it was hung by the legs, and the populace, ingeniousas it always is, had replaced the head with a bunch of straw, to whichwas fastened a mask; and in the mouth of this mask some wag, knowing theadmiral's habit, had introduced a toothpick.
At once appalling and singular was the spectacle of all these elegantlords and handsome ladies like a procession painted by Goya, ridingalong in the midst of those blackened carcasses and gibbets, with theirlong lean arms.
The noisier the exultation of the spectators, the more strikingly itcontrasted with the melancholy silence and cold insensibility of thosecorpses--objects of ridicule which made even the jesters shudder.
Many could scarcely endure this horrible spectacle, and by his pallormight be distinguished, in the centre of collected Huguenots, Henry,who, great as was his power of self-control and the degree ofdissimulation conferred on him by Heaven, could no longer bear it.
He made as his excuse the strong stench which emanated from all thosehuman remains, and going to Charles, who, with Catharine, had stopped infront of the admiral's dead body, he said:
"Sire, does not your Majesty find that this poor carcass smells sostrong that it is impossible to remain near it any longer?"
"Do you find it so, Harry?" inquired the King, his eyes sparkling withferocious joy.
"Yes, sire."
"Well, then, I am not of your opinion; a dead enemy's corpse alwayssmells sweet."
"Faith, sire," said Tavannes, "since your Majesty knew that we weregoing to make a little call on the admiral, you should have invitedPierre Ronsard, your teacher of poetry; he would have extemporized anepitaph for the old Gaspard."
"There is no need of him for that," said Charles IX., after an instant'sthought:
_"Ci-git,--mais c'est mal entendu,_ _Pour lui le mot est trop honnete,--_ _Ici l'amiral est pendu_ _Par les pieds, a faute de tete."_[4]
"Bravo! bravo!" cried the Catholic gentlemen in unison, while thecollected Huguenots scowled and kept silent, and Henry, as he wastalking with Marguerite and Madame de Nevers, pretended not to haveheard.
"Come, come, sir!" said Catharine, who, in spite of the perfumes withwhich she was covered, began to be made ill by the odor. "Come, howeveragreeable company may be, it must be left at last; let us therefore saygood-by to the admiral, and return to Paris."
She nodded ironically as when one takes leave of a friend, and, takingthe head of the column, turned to the road, while the cortege defiledbefore Coligny's corpse.
The sun was sinking in the horizon.
The throng followed fast on their majesties so as to enjoy to the veryend all the splendors of the procession and the details of thespectacle; the thieves followed the populace, so that in ten minutesafter the King's departure there was no person about the admiral'smutilated carcass on which now blew the first breezes of the evening.
When we say no person, we err. A gentleman mounted on a black horse, andwho, doubtless, could not contemplate at his ease the black mutilatedtrunk when it was honored by the presence of princes, had remainedbehind, and was examining, in all their details, the bolts, stonepillars, chains, and in fact the gibbet, which no doubt appeared to him(but lately arrived in Paris, and ignorant of the perfection to whichthings could be brought in the capital) the paragon of all that mancould invent in the way of awful ugliness.
We need hardly inform our friends that this man was M. Annibal deCoconnas.
A woman's practised eye had vainly looked for him in the cavalcade andhad searched among the ranks without being able to find him.
Monsieur de Coconnas, as we have said, was standing ecstaticallycontemplating Enguerrand de Marigny's work.
But this woman was not the only person who was trying to find Monsieurde Coconnas. Another gentleman, noticeable for his white satin doubletand gallant plume, after looking toward the front and on all sides,bethought him to look back, and saw Coconnas's tall figure and thesilhouette of his gigantic horse standing out strongly against the skyreddened by the last rays of the setting sun.
Then the gentleman in the white satin doublet turned out from the roadtaken by the majority of the company, struck into a narrow footpath, anddescribing a curve rode back toward the gibbet.
Almost at the same time the lady whom we have recognized as the Duchessede Nevers, just as we recognized the tall gentleman on the black horseas Coconnas, rode alongside of Marguerite and said to her:
"We were both mistaken, Marguerite, for the Piedmontese has remainedbehind and Monsieur de la Mole has gone back to meet him."
"By Heaven!" exclaimed Marguerite, laughing, "then something is going tohappen. Faith, I confess I should not be sorry to revise my opinionabout him."
Marguerite then turned her horse and witnessed the manoeuvre which wehave described La Mole as performing.
The two princesses left the procession; the opportunity was mostfavorable: they were passing by a hedge-lined footpath which led up thehill, and in doing so passed within thirty yards of the gibbet. Madamede Nevers whispered a word in her captain's ear, Marguerite beckoned toGillonne, and the four turned into this cross path and went and hidbehind the shrubbery nearest to the place where the scene which theyevidently expected to witness was to take place. It was about thirtyyards, as we have already said, from the spot where Coconnas in a stateof ecstasy was gesticulating before the admiral.
Marguerite dismounted, Madame de Nevers and Gillonne did the same; thecaptain then got down and took the bridles of the four horses. Thickgreen furnished the three women a seat such as princesses often seek invain. The glade before them was so open that they would not miss theslightest detail.
La Mole had accomplished his circuit. He rode up slowly and took hisstand behind Coconnas; then stretching out his hand tapped him on theshoulder.
The Piedmontese turned round.
"Oh!" said he, "so it was not a dream! You are still alive!"
"Yes, sir," replied La Mole; "yes, I am still alive. It is no fault ofyours, but I am still alive."
"By Heaven! I know you again well enough," replied Coconnas, "in spiteof your pale face. You were redder than that the last time we met!"
"And I," said La Mole, "I also recognize you, in spite of that yellowline across your face. You were paler than that when I made that markfor you!"
Coconnas bit his lips, but, evidently resolved on continuing theconversation in a tone of irony, he said:
"It is curious, is it not, Monsieur de la Mole, particularly for aHuguenot, to be able to look at the admiral suspended from that ironhook? And yet they say there are people extravagant enough to accuse usof killing even small Huguenots, sucklings."
"Count," said La Mole, bowing, "I am no longer a Huguenot; I have thehappiness of being a Catholic!"
"Bah!" exclaimed Coconnas, bursting into loud laughter; "so you are aconvert, sir? Oh, that was clever of you!"
"Sir," replied La Mole, with the same seriousness and the samepoliteness, "I made a vow to become a convert if I escaped themassacre."
"Count," said the Piedmontese, "that was a very prudent vow, and I begto congratulate you. Perhaps you made still others?"
"Yes, I made a second," answered La Mole, patting
his horse with entirecoolness.
"And what might that be?" inquired Coconnas.
"To hang you up there, by that small nail which seems to await youbeneath Monsieur de Coligny."
"What, as I am now?" asked Coconnas, "alive and merry?"
"No, sir; after I have passed my sword through your body!"
Coconnas became purple, and his eyes darted flames.
"Do you mean," said he in a bantering tone, "to that nail?"
"Yes," replied La Mole, "to that nail."
"You are not tall enough to do it, my little sir!"
"Then I'll get on your horse, my great man-slayer," replied La Mole."Ah, you believe, my dear Monsieur Annibal de Coconnas, that one maywith impunity assassinate people under the loyal and honorable excuse ofbeing a hundred to one, forsooth! But the day comes when a man finds hisman; and I believe that day has come now. I should very well like tosend a bullet through your ugly head; but, bah! I might miss you, for myhand is still trembling from the traitorous wounds you inflicted uponme."
"My ugly head!" shouted Coconnas, leaping down from his steed."Down--down from your horse, M. le Comte, and draw!"
And he drew his sword.
"I believe your Huguenot called Monsieur de Coconnas an 'ugly head,'"whispered the Duchesse de Nevers. "Do you think he is bad looking?"
"He is charming," said Marguerite, laughing, "and I am compelled toacknowledge that fury renders Monsieur de La Mole unjust; but hush! letus watch!"
In fact, La Mole had dismounted from his horse with as much deliberationas Coconnas had shown of precipitation; he had taken off hischerry-colored cloak, laid it leisurely on the ground, drawn his sword,and put himself on guard.
"Aie!" he exclaimed, as he stretched out his arm.
"Ouf!" muttered Coconnas, as he moved his,--for both, as it will beremembered, had been wounded in the shoulder and it hurt them when theymade any violent movement.
A burst of laughter, ill repressed, came from the clump of bushes. Theprincesses could not quite contain themselves at the sight of their twochampions rubbing their omoplates and making up faces.
This burst of merriment reached the ears of the two gentlemen, who wereignorant that they had witnesses; turning round, they beheld theirladies.
La Mole resumed his guard as firm as an automaton, and Coconnas crossedhis blade with an emphatic "By Heaven!"
"Ah ca! now they will murder each other in real earnest, if we do notinterfere. There has been enough of this. Hola, gentlemen!--hola!" criedMarguerite.
"Let them be! let them be!" said Henriette, who having seen Coconnas atwork, hoped in her heart that he would have as easy a victory over LaMole as he had over Mercandon's son and two nephews.
"Oh, they are really beautiful so!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Look--theyseem to breathe fire!"
Indeed, the combat, begun with sarcasms and mutual insults, becamesilent as soon as the champions had crossed their swords. Eachdistrusted his own strength, and each, at every quick pass, wascompelled to restrain an expression of pain occasioned by his ownwounds. Nevertheless, with eyes fixed and burning, mouth half open, andteeth clenched, La Mole advanced with short and firm steps toward hisadversary, who, seeing in him a most skilful swordsman, retreated stepby step. They both thus reached the edge of the ditch on the other sideof which were the spectators; then, as if his retreat had been only asimple stratagem to draw nearer to his lady, Coconnas took his stand,and as La Mole made his guard a little too wide, he made a thrust withthe quickness of lightning and instantly La Mole's white satin doubletwas stained with a spot of blood which kept growing larger.
"Courage!" cried the Duchesse de Nevers.
"Ah, poor La Mole!" exclaimed Marguerite, with a cry of distress.
La Mole heard this cry, darted at the queen one of those looks whichpenetrate the heart even deeper than a sword-point, and taking advantageof a false parade, thrust vigorously at his adversary.
This time the two women uttered two cries which seemed like one. Thepoint of La Mole's rapier had appeared, all covered with blood, behindCoconnas's back.
Yet neither fell. Both remained erect, looking at each other with openmouth, and feeling that on the slightest movement they must lose theirbalance. At last the Piedmontese, more dangerously wounded than hisadversary, and feeling his senses forsaking him with his blood, fell onLa Mole, grasping him with one hand, while with the other he endeavoredto unsheath his poniard.
La Mole roused all his strength, raised his hand, and let fall thepommel of his sword on Coconnas's forehead. Coconnas, stupefied by theblow, fell, but in his fall drew down his adversary with him, and bothrolled into the ditch.
Then Marguerite and the Duchesse de Nevers, seeing that, dying as theywere, they were still struggling to destroy each other, hastened tothem, followed by the captain of the guards; but before they couldreach them the combatants' hands unloosened, their eyes closed, andletting go their grasp of their weapons they stiffened in what seemedlike their final agony. A wide stream of blood bubbled round them.
"Oh, brave, brave La Mole!" cried Marguerite, unable any longer torepress her admiration. "Ah! pardon me a thousand times for having amoment doubted your courage."
And her eyes filled with tears.
"Alas! alas!" murmured the duchess, "gallant Annibal. Did you ever seetwo such intrepid lions, madame?"
And she sobbed aloud.
"Heavens! what ugly thrusts," said the captain, endeavoring to stanchthe streams of blood. "Hola! you, there, come here as quickly as youcan--here, I say"--
He addressed a man who, seated on a kind of tumbril or cart painted red,appeared in the evening mist singing this old song, which had doubtlessbeen suggested to him by the miracle of the Cemetery of the Innocents:
"_Bel aubespin fleurissant_ _Verdissant,_ _Le long de ce beau rivage,_ _Tu es vetu, jusqu'au bas_ _Des longs bras_ _D'une lambrusche sauvage._
"_Le chantre rossignolet,_ _Nouvelet,_ _Courtisant sa bien-aimee_ _Pour ses amours alleger_ _Vient logerv _Tous les ans sous ta ramee._
"_Or, vis, gentil aubespin_ _Vis sans fin;_ _Vis, sans que jamais tonnerre,_ _Ou la cognee, ou les vents_ _Ou le temps_ _Te puissent ruer par._"...[5]
"Hola! he!" shouted the captain a second time, "come when you arecalled. Don't you see that these gentlemen need help?"
The carter, whose repulsive exterior and coarse face formed a singularcontrast with the sweet and sylvan song we have just quoted, stopped hishorse, got out, and bending over the two bodies said:
"These be terrible wounds, sure enough, but I have made worse in mytime."
"Who are you, pray?" inquired Marguerite, experiencing, in spite ofherself, a certain vague terror which she could not overcome.
"Madame," replied the man, bowing down to the ground, "I am MaitreCaboche, headsman to the provostry of Paris, and I have come to hang upat the gibbet some companions for Monsieur the Admiral."
"Well! and I am the Queen of Navarre," replied Marguerite; "cast yourcorpses down there, spread in your cart the housings of our horses, andbring these two gentlemen softly behind us to the Louvre."