La reine Margot. English

  During the conversation which we have just related, La Mole and Coconnasmounted guard. La Mole somewhat chagrined, Coconnas somewhat anxious. LaMole had had time to reflect, and in this he had been greatly aided byCoconnas.

  "What do you think of all this, my friend?" La Mole had asked ofCoconnas.

  "I think," the Piedmontese had replied, "that there is some courtintrigue connected with it."

  "And such being the case, are you disposed to play a part in it?"

  "My dear fellow," replied Coconnas, "listen well to what I am going tosay to you and try and profit by it. In all these princely dealings, inall royal affairs, we can and should be nothing but shadows. Where theKing of Navarre leaves a bit of his plume and the Duc d'Alencon a pieceof his cloak, we leave our lives. The queen has a fancy for you, and youfor her. Nothing is better. Lose your head in love, my dear fellow, butnot in politics."

  That was wise council. Therefore it was heard by La Mole with themelancholy of a man who feels that, placed between reason and madness,it is madness he will follow.

  "I have not a fancy for the queen, Annibal, I love her; and fortunatelyor unfortunately I love her with all my heart. This is madness, you willsay. Well, I admit that I am mad. But you are wise, Coconnas, you oughtnot to suffer for my foolishness and my misfortune. Go back to ourmaster and do not compromise yourself."

  Coconnas pondered an instant. Then raising his head:

  "My dear fellow," he replied, "all that you tell me is perfectlyreasonable; you are in love--act, therefore, like a lover. I amambitious, and being so, I think life is worth more to me than a woman'skiss. When I risk my life, I make my own conditions. Try, so far as youare concerned, my poor Medor, to make yours."

  Whereupon Coconnas extended his hand to La Mole and withdrew, havingexchanged a final glance and a final smile with his friend.

  About ten minutes after he left his post, the door opened, andMarguerite, peering out cautiously, took La Mole by the hand and,without uttering a word, drew him from the corridor into the furthestcorner of her room. She closed the door behind her with a care whichindicated the importance of the conversation she was about to have.

  Once in her room she stopped, seated herself on her ebony chair, anddrawing La Mole to her, she clasped her hands over both of his.

  "Now that we are alone," said she, "let us talk seriously, my very dearfriend."

  "Seriously, madame," said La Mole.

  "Or lovingly. Does that please you better? But there can be seriousthings in love, and especially in the love of a queen."

  "Then--let us talk of serious things; but on condition that your majestywill not be vexed at the lighter things I have to say to you."

  "I shall be vexed only at one thing, La Mole, and that is if you addressme as 'madame' or 'your majesty.' For you, my beloved, I am justMarguerite."

  "Yes, Marguerite! Yes, Margarita! Yes, my pearl!" cried the young man,devouring the queen with his eyes.

  "Yes, that is right," said Marguerite. "So you are jealous, my finegentleman?"

  "Oh! unreasonably."

  "Still?"

  "Madly, Marguerite."

  "Jealous of whom? Come!"

  "Of everyone."

  "But really?"

  "Of the king first."

  "I should think after what you had seen and heard you might be easy onthat point."

  "Of this Monsieur de Mouy, whom I saw this morning for the first time,and whom this evening I find so far advanced in his intimacy with you."

  "Monsieur de Mouy?"

  "Yes."

  "Who gave you such ideas about Monsieur de Mouy?"

  "Listen! I recognized him from his figure, from the color of his hair,from a natural feeling of hatred. He is the one who was with Monsieurd'Alencon this morning."

  "Well, what connection has that with me?"

  "Monsieur d'Alencon is your brother. It is said that you are very fondof him. You may have confided to him a vague feeling of your heart, and,according to the custom at court, he has aided your wish by admittingMonsieur de Mouy to your apartment. Now, what I do not understand ishow I was fortunate enough to find the king here at the same time. Butin any case, madame, be frank with me. In default of other sentiment, alove like mine has the right to demand frankness in return. See, Iprostrate myself at your feet. If what you have felt for me is but apassing fancy, I will give you back your trust, your promise, your love;I will give back to Monsieur d'Alencon his kind favors and my post ofgentleman, and I will go and seek death at the siege of La Rochelle, iflove does not kill me before I have gone as far as that."

  Marguerite listened smilingly to these charming words, watching LaMole's graceful gestures, then leaning her beautiful dreamy head on herfeverish hand:

  "You love me?" she asked.

  "Oh, madame! more than life, more than safety, more than all; but you,you--you do not love me."

  "Poor fool!" she murmured.

  "Ah, yes, madame," cried La Mole, still at her feet, "I have told you Iwas that."

  "The chief thought of your life, then, is your love, dear La Mole!"

  "It is the only thought, madame, the sole thought."

  "Well, be it so; I will make of all the rest only an accessory to thislove. You love me; do you wish to remain near me?"

  "My one prayer is that God will never take me from you."

  "Well, you shall not leave me. I need you, La Mole."

  "You need me? Does the sun need the glow-worm?"

  "If I will tell you that I love you, would you be wholly devoted to me?"

  "Ah! am I not that already, madame, and more than wholly?"

  "Yes, but, God forgive me, you still doubt!"

  "Oh! I am wrong, I am ungrateful, or, rather, as I have told you andrepeated to you, I am a fool. But why was Monsieur de Mouy with you thisevening? why did I see him this morning with Monsieur le Duc d'Alencon?Why that cherry-colored cloak, that white plume, that affected imitationof my gait? Ah! madame, it is not you whom I suspect, but your brother."

  "Wretched man!" said Marguerite, "wretched man to suppose that DucFrancois would push complacency so far as to introduce a wooer to hissister's room! Mad enough to be jealous, and yet not to have guessed! Doyou know, La Mole, that the Duc d'Alencon would run you through with hisown sword if he knew that you were here, this evening, at my feet, andthat instead of sending you away I were saying to you: 'Stay here whereyou are, La Mole; for I love you, my fine gentleman, do you hear? I loveyou!' Ah, yes! he would certainly kill you."

  "Great God!" cried La Mole, starting back and looking at Marguerite interror, "is it possible?"

  "Everything is possible, my friend, in these times and at this court.Now, one word; it was not for me that Monsieur de Mouy, in your cloak,his face hidden under your hat, came to the Louvre. It was for Monsieurd'Alencon. But I, thinking it was you, brought him here. He knows oursecret, La Mole, and must be carefully managed."

  "I should prefer to kill him," said La Mole; "that is shorter andsurer."

  "And I, my brave gentleman," said the queen, "I prefer him to live, andfor you to know everything, for not only is his life useful to us, butit is necessary. Listen and weigh your words well before you answer. Doyou love me enough, La Mole, to be glad if I were really to become aqueen; that is, queen of a real kingdom?"

  "Alas, madame, I love you enough to wish what you wish, even should thisdesire ruin my whole life!"

  "Well, do you want to aid me to realize this desire, which would makeyou still happier?"

  "Oh! I should lose you, madame," cried La Mole hiding his head in hishands.

  "No, on the contrary. Instead of being the first of my servants, youwould become the first of my subjects, that is all."

  "Oh! no interest--no ambition, madame--do not sully the feeling I havefor you--the devotion, nothing but devotion!"

  "Noble nature!" said Marguerite; "well, yes, I accept your devotion, andI shall find out how to reward it."

  She extended both her hands, and La Mole covered
them with kisses.

  "Well!" said she.

  "Well, yes!" replied La Mole, "yes, Marguerite, I am beginning tocomprehend this vague project already talked of by us Huguenots beforethe massacre of Saint Bartholomew, the scheme for the execution of whichI, like many another worthier than myself, was sent to Paris. You covetthis actual kingdom of Navarre which is to take the place of animaginary kingdom. King Henry drives you to it; De Mouy conspires withyou, does he not? But the Duc d'Alencon, what is he doing in it all?Where is there a throne for him? I do not see. Now, is the Duc d'Alenconsufficiently your--friend to aid you in all this without asking anythingin exchange for the danger he runs?"

  "The duke, my friend, is conspiring on his own account. Let us leave himto his illusions. His life answers for ours."

  "But I, who belong to him, can I betray him?"

  "Betray him! In what are you betraying him? What has he confided to you?Is it not he who has betrayed you by giving your cloak and hat to DeMouy as a means of gaining him admittance to his apartments? You belongto him, you say! Were you not mine, my gentleman, before you were his?Has he given you a greater proof of friendship than the proof of loveyou have from me?"

  La Mole arose, pale and completely overcome.

  "Oh!" he murmured, "Coconnas was right, intrigue is enveloping me in itsfolds. It will suffocate me."

  "Well?" asked Marguerite.

  "Well," said La Mole, "this is my answer: it is said, and I heard it atthe other end of France, where your illustrious name and your universalreputation for beauty touched my heart like a vague desire for theunknown,--it is said that sometimes you love, but that your love isalways fatal to those you love, so that death, jealous, no doubt, almostalways removes your lovers."

  "La Mole!"

  "Do not interrupt me, oh, my well-loved Margarita, for they add that youpreserve the hearts of these faithful friends in gold boxes[10], andthat occasionally you bestow a melancholy thought, a pious glance on thesad remains. You sigh, my queen, your eyes droop; it is true. Well! makeme the dearest and the happiest of your favorites. You have pierced thehearts of others, and you keep their hearts. You do more with me, youexpose my head. Well, Marguerite, swear to me before the image of theGod who has saved my life in this very place, swear to me, that if I diefor you, as a sad presentiment tells me I shall do, swear to me that youwill keep my head, which the hangman will separate from my body; andthat you will sometimes press your lips to it. Swear, Marguerite, andthe promise of such reward bestowed by my queen will make me silent,and, if necessary, a traitor and a coward; this is being wholly devoted,as your lover and your accomplice should be."

  "Oh! what ghastly foolishness, dear heart!" said Marguerite. "Oh! fatalthought, sweet love."

  "Swear"--

  "Swear?"

  "Yes, on this silver chest with its cross. Swear."

  "Well!" said Marguerite, "if--and God forbid!--your gloomy presentimentis realized, my fine gentleman, on this cross I swear to you that youshall be near me, living or dead, so long as I live; and if I am unableto rescue you from the peril which comes to you through me, through mealone, I will at least give to your poor soul the consolation for whichyou ask, and which you will so well have deserved."

  "One word more, Marguerite. I can die now. I shall not mind death; but Ican live, too, for we may succeed. The King of Navarre, king, you may bequeen, in which case he will take you away. This vow of separationbetween you will some day be broken, and will do away with ours. Now,Marguerite, my well-beloved Marguerite, with a word you have taken awaymy every fear of death; now with a word keep up my courage concerninglife."

  "Oh, fear nothing, I am yours, body and soul!" cried Marguerite, againraising her hand to the cross on the little chest. "If I leave, youfollow, and if the king refuses to take you, then I shall not go."

  "But you dare not resist!"

  "My well-beloved Hyacinthe," said Marguerite, "you do not know Henry. Atpresent he is thinking of only one thing, that is, of being king. Forthis he would sacrifice everything he owns, and, still more, what hedoes not own. Now, adieu!"

  "Madame," said La Mole, smiling, "are you going to send me away?"

  "It is late," said Marguerite.

  "No doubt; but where would you have me go? Monsieur de Mouy is in myroom with Monsieur le Duc d'Alencon."

  "Ah! yes," said Marguerite, with a beautiful smile. "Besides, I havestill some things to tell you about this conspiracy."

  From that night La Mole was no longer an ordinary favorite. He wellmight carry his head high, for which, living or dead, so sweet a futurewas in store.

  And yet at times his weary brow was bent, his cheek grew pale, and deepthoughts ploughed their furrows on the forehead of the young man, onceso light-hearted, now so happy!