CHAPTER XVII.
MAITRE AMBROISE PARE'S CONFRERE.
The tumbril in which Coconnas and La Mole were laid started back towardParis, following in the shadow the guiding group. It stopped at theLouvre, and the driver was amply rewarded. The wounded men were carriedto the Duc d'Alencon's quarters, and Maitre Ambroise Pare was sent for.
When he arrived, neither of the two men had recovered consciousness.
La Mole was the least hurt of the two. The sword had struck him belowthe right armpit, but without touching any vital parts. Coconnas was runthrough the lungs, and the air that escaped from his wound made theflame of a candle waver.
Ambroise Pare would not answer for Coconnas.
Madame de Nevers was in despair. Relying on Coconnas's strength,courage, and skill, she had prevented Marguerite from interfering withthe duel. She would have had Coconnas taken to the Hotel de Guise andgladly bestowed on him a second time the care which she had alreadylavished on his comfort, but her husband was likely to arrive from Romeat any moment and find fault with the introduction of a strange man inthe domestic establishment.
To hide the cause of the wounds, Marguerite had had the two young menbrought to her brother's rooms, where one of them, to be sure, hadalready been installed, by saying that they were two gentlemen who hadbeen thrown from their horses during the excursion, but the truth wasdivulged by the captain, who, having witnessed the duel, could not helpexpressing his admiration, and it was soon known at court that two new_raffines_[6] had burst into sudden fame. Attended by the same surgeon,who divided his attentions between them, the two wounded men passedthrough the different phases of convalescence arising from the greateror less severity of their wounds. La Mole, who was less severely woundedof the two, was the first to recover consciousness. A terrible fever hadtaken possession of Coconnas and his return to life was attended by allthe symptoms of the most horrible delirium.
Though La Mole was confined in the same room with Coconnas, he had not,when he came to himself, seen his companion, or if he saw him, hebetrayed no sign that he saw him. Coconnas, on the contrary, as soon ashe opened his eyes, fastened them on La Mole with an expression whichproved that the blood he had lost had not modified the passions of hisfiery temperament.
Coconnas thought he was dreaming, and that in this dream he saw theenemy he imagined he had twice slain, only the dream was undulyprolonged. After having observed La Mole laid, like himself, on a couch,and his wounds dressed by the surgeon, he saw him rise up in bed, whilehe himself was still confined to his by his fever, his weakness, and hispain; he saw him get out of bed, then walk, first leaning on thesurgeon's arm, and then on a cane, and finally without assistance.
Coconnas, still delirious, viewed these different stages of hiscompanion's recovery with eyes sometimes dull, at others wandering, butalways threatening.
All this presented to the Piedmontese's fiery spirit a fearful mixtureof the fantastic and the real. For him La Mole was dead, wholly dead,having been actually killed twice and not merely once, and yet herecognized this same La Mole's ghost lying in a bed like his own; then,as we have said, he saw this ghost get up, walk round, and, horrible torelate, come toward his bed. This ghost, whom Coconnas would have wishedto avoid, even had it been in the depths of hell, came straight to himand stopped beside his pillow, standing there and looking at him; therewas in his features a look of gentleness and compassion which Coconnastook for the expression of hellish derision.
There arose in his mind, possibly more wounded than his body, aninsatiable thirst of vengeance. He was wholly occupied with one idea,that of procuring some weapon, and with that weapon piercing the body orthe ghost of La Mole which so cruelly persecuted him. His clothes,stained with blood, had been placed on a chair by his bed, butafterwards removed, it being thought imprudent to leave them in hissight; but his poniard still remained on the chair, for it was imaginedit would be some time before he would want to use it.
Coconnas saw the poniard; three nights while La Mole was slumbering hestrove to reach it; three nights his strength failed him, and hefainted. At length, on the fourth night, he clutched it convulsively,and groaning with the pain of the effort, hid the weapon beneath hispillow.
The next day he saw something he had never deemed possible. La Mole'sghost, which every day seemed to gain strength, while he, occupied withthe terrible dream, kept losing his in the eternal weaving of the schemewhich was to rid him of it,--La Mole's ghost, growing more and moreenergetic, walked thoughtfully up and down the room three or four times,then, after having put on his mantle, buckled on his sword, and put on abroad-brimmed felt hat, opened the door and went out.
Coconnas breathed again. He thought that he was freed from his phantom.For two or three hours his blood circulated more calmly and coolly inhis veins than it had done since the duel. La Mole's absence for one daywould have restored Coconnas to his senses; a week's absence wouldperhaps have cured him; unfortunately, La Mole returned at the end oftwo hours.
This reappearance of La Mole was like a poniard-stab for Coconnas; andalthough La Mole did not return alone, Coconnas did not give a singlelook at his companion.
And yet his companion was worth looking at.
He was a man of forty, short, thick-set, and vigorous, with black hairwhich came to his eyebrows, and a black beard, which, contrary to thefashion of the period, thickly covered the chin; but he seemed one whocared little for the fashion.
He wore a leather jerkin, all covered with brown spots; red hose andleggings, thick shoes coming above the ankle, a cap the same color ashis stockings, and a girdle, from which hung a large knife in a leathersheaf, completed his attire.
This singular personage, whose presence in the Louvre seemed soanomalous, threw his brown mantle on a chair and unceremoniouslyapproached Coconnas, whose eyes, as if fascinated, remained fixed uponLa Mole, who remained at some distance. He looked at the sick man, andshaking his head, said to La Mole:
"You have waited till it was rather late, my dear gentleman."
"I could not get out sooner," said La Mole.
"Eh! Heavens! you should have sent for me."
"Whom had I to send?"
"True, I forgot where we are. I had told those ladies, but they wouldnot listen to me. If my prescriptions had been followed instead of thoseof that ass, Ambroise Pare, you would by this time have been in acondition to go in pursuit of adventures together, or exchange anothersword-thrust if such had been your good pleasure; but we shall see. Doesyour friend listen to reason?"
"Scarcely."
"Hold out your tongue, my dear gentleman."
Coconnas thrust out his tongue to La Mole, making such a hideous grimacethat the practitioner shook his head a second time.
"Oho!" he muttered, "contraction of the muscles. There's no time to belost. This evening I will send you a potion ready prepared; you mustmake him take it three times: once at midnight, once at one o'clock, andonce at two."
"Very well."
"But who will make him take it?"
"I will."
"You?"
"Yes."
"You give me your word?"
"On my honor."
"And if any physician should attempt to abstract the slightest portionto analyze it and discover what its ingredients are"--
"I will spill it to the last drop."
"This also on your honor?"
"I swear it!"
"Whom shall I send you this potion by?"
"Any one you please."
"But my messenger"--
"Well?"
"How will he get to you?"
"That is easily managed. He will say that he comes from Monsieur Rene,the perfumer."
"That Florentine who lives on the Pont Saint Michel?"
"Exactly. He is allowed to enter the Louvre at any hour, day or night."
The man smiled.
"In fact," said he, "the queen mother at least owes him that much. It isunderstood, then; he will come from Maitre Rene, the perfume
r. I maysurely use his name for once: he has often enough practised myprofession without having taken his degree either."
"Then," said La Mole, "I may rely on you."
"You may."
"And about the payment?"
"Oh, we will arrange about that with the gentleman himself when he iswell again."
"You may be quite easy on that score, for I am sure he will pay yougenerously."
"I believe you. And yet," he added with a strange smile, "as the peoplewith whom I have to do are not wont to be grateful, I should not besurprised if when he is on his legs again he should forget or at leastnot think to give a single thought to me."
"All right," said La Mole, smiling also, "in that case I should have tojog his memory."
"Very well, we'll leave it so. In two hours you will receive themedicine."
"Au revoir!"
"You said"--
"Au revoir."
The man smiled.
"It is always my custom," he added, "to say adieu! So adieu, Monsieur dela Mole. In two hours you will have the potion. You understand, it mustbe given at midnight--in three doses--at intervals of an hour."
So saying he took his departure, and La Mole was left alone withCoconnas.
Coconnas had heard the whole conversation, but understood nothing of it;a senseless babble of words, a senseless jangling of phrases, was allthat came to him. Of the whole interview he remembered nothing exceptthe word "midnight."
He continued to watch La Mole, who remained in the room, pacingthoughtfully up and down.
The unknown doctor kept his word, and at the appointed time sent themedicine, which La Mole placed on a small silver chafing-dish, andhaving taken this precaution, went to bed.
This action on the part of La Mole gave Coconnas a little quietude. Hetried to shut his eyes, but his feverish slumbers were only acontinuation of his waking delirium. The same phantom which haunted himby day came to disturb him by night; across his hot eyelids he still sawLa Mole as threatening as ever, and a voice kept repeating in his ear:"Midnight, midnight, midnight!"
Suddenly the echoing note of a clock's bell awoke in the night andstruck twelve. Coconnas opened his blood-shot eyes; the fiery breathfrom his breast scorched his dry lips, an unquenchable thirst devouredhis burning throat; the little night lamp was burning as usual, and itsdim light made thousands of phantoms dance before his wandering eyes.
And then a horrible vision--he saw La Mole get out of bed, and afterwalking up and down the room two or three times, as the sparrow-hawkflits before the little bird it is trying to fascinate, come toward himwith his fist clinched.
Coconnas seized his poniard and prepared to plunge it into his enemy.
La Mole kept coming nearer.
Coconnas muttered:
"Ah! here you are again! you are always here! Come on! You threaten me,do you! you smile! Come, come, come! ah, you still keep coming nearer, astep at a time! Come, come, and let me kill you."
And suiting the action to the word, just as La Mole bent down to him,Coconnas flashed out the poniard from under the clothes; but the efforthe made in rising exhausted him, the weapon dropped from his hand, andhe fell back upon his pillow.
"There, there!" said La Mole, gently lifting his head; "drink this, mypoor fellow, for you are burning up."
It was really a cup La Mole presented to Coconnas, who in the wildexcitement of his delirium took it to be a threatening fist.
But at the nectarous sensation of this beneficent draught, soothing hislips and cooling his throat, Coconnas's reason, or rather his instinct,came back to him, a never before experienced feeling of comfort pervadedhis frame; he turned an intelligent look at La Mole, who was supportinghim in his arms, and smiling on him; and from those eyes, so latelyglowing with fury, a tear rolled down his burning cheek, which drank itwith avidity.
"_Mordi!_" whispered Coconnas, as he fell back on his bolster. "If I getover this, Monsieur de la Mole, you shall be my friend."
"And you will get over it," said La Mole, "if you will drink the othertwo cups, and have no more ugly dreams."
An hour afterward La Mole, assuming the duties of a nurse, andscrupulously carrying out the unknown doctor's orders, rose again,poured a second dose into the cup, and carried it to Coconnas, whoinstead of waiting for him with his poniard, received him with openarms, eagerly swallowed the potion, and calmly fell asleep.
The third cup had a no less marvellous effect. The sick man's breathingbecame more regular, his stiff limbs relaxed, a gentle perspirationdiffused itself over his burning skin, and when Ambroise Pare visitedhim the next morning, he smiled complacently, saying:
"I answer for Monsieur de Coconnas now; and this will not be one of theleast difficult cures I have effected."
This scene, half-dramatic, half-burlesque, and yet not lacking in acertain poetic touch when Coconnas's fierce ways were taken intoconsideration, resulted in the friendship which the two gentlemen hadbegun at the Inn of the _Belle Etoile_, and which had been so violentlyinterrupted by the Saint Bartholomew night's occurrences, from that timeforth taking on a new vigor and soon surpassing that of Orestes andPylades by five sword-thrusts and one pistol-wound exchanged betweenthem.
At all events, wounds old and new, slight or serious, were at last in afair way of cure. La Mole, faithful to his duties as nurse, would notforsake the sick-room until Coconnas was entirely well. As long asweakness kept the invalid on the bed, he lifted him, and when he beganto improve he helped him to walk; in a word, he lavished on him all theattentions suggested by his gentle and affectionate disposition, andthis care, together with the Piedmontese's natural vigor, brought abouta more rapid convalescence than would have been expected.
However, one and the same thought tormented both the young men. Each hadin his delirium apparently seen the woman he loved approach his couch,and yet, certainly since they had recovered their senses, neitherMarguerite nor Madame de Nevers had entered the room. However, that wasperfectly comprehensible; the one, wife of the King of Navarre, theother, the Duc de Guise's sister-in-law, could not have publicly showntwo simple gentlemen such a mark of evident interest, could they? No! LaMole and Coconnas could not make any other reply to this question. Butstill the absence of the ladies, tantamount perhaps to utterforgetfulness, was not the less painful.
It is true the gentleman who had witnessed the duel had come severaltimes, as if of his own accord, to inquire after them; it is trueGillonne had done the same; but La Mole had not ventured to speak to theone concerning the queen; Coconnas had not ventured to speak to theother of Madame de Nevers.