CHAPTER XLIII.
THE AMBASSADORS.
The following day the entire population of Paris rushed towards theFaubourg Saint Antoine, by which it had been decided that the Polishambassadors were to enter. A line of Swiss restrained the crowd, and aregiment of horse protected the lords and the ladies of the court whorode ahead of the procession.
Soon, near the Abbey Saint Antoine, a troop of cavaliers appeared,dressed in red and yellow, with caps and furred mantles, and carryinglong curved sabres like Turkish cimeters.
The officers rode at the side of the lines.
Behind this troop came a second, clothed with Oriental magnificence.They preceded the ambassadors, who, four in number, represented in agorgeous manner the most mythological of the chivalrous kingdoms of thesixteenth century.
One of the ambassadors was the Bishop of Cracow. His costume was halfecclesiastical, half military, resplendent with gold and preciousstones.
His white horse, with long mane and tail, walked with proud step andseemed to breathe out fire from his nostrils. No one would have supposedthat for a month the noble animal had made fifteen leagues daily overroads which the weather had rendered almost impassable.
Beside the bishop rode the Palatine Lasco, a powerful noble, closelyrelated to the royal family, as rich as a king and as proud.
Behind these two chief ambassadors, who were accompanied by two otherpalatines of high rank, came a number of Polish lords, whose horses intheir harness of silk, studded with gold and precious stones, excitedthe applause of the people. The French horsemen, in spite of their richapparel, were completely eclipsed by the newcomers, whom they scornfullycalled barbarians.
Up to the last moment Catharine had hoped the reception would bepostponed on account of the King's illness. But when the day came, andshe saw Charles, as pale as a corpse, put on the gorgeous royal mantle,she realized that apparently at least she must yield to his iron will,and began to believe that after all the safest plan for Henry of Anjouwas to accept the magnificent exile to which he was condemned. With theexception of the few words he had uttered when he opened his eyes as hismother came out of the closet, Charles had not spoken to Catharinesince the scene which had brought about the illness to which he hadsuccumbed. Every one in the Louvre knew that there had been a dreadfulaltercation between mother and son, but no one knew the cause of it, andthe boldest trembled before that coldness and silence, as birds tremblebefore the calm which precedes a storm.
Everything had been prepared in the Louvre, not as though there were tobe a reception, but as if some funeral ceremony were to occur. Every onehad obeyed orders in a gloomy or passive manner. It was known thatCatharine had almost trembled, and consequently every one else trembled.
The large reception-hall of the palace had been prepared, and as suchceremonies were usually public, the guards and the sentinels hadreceived orders to admit with the ambassadors as many people as theapartments and the courts would hold. As for Paris, it presented thesame aspect that every large city presents under similar circumstances;that is, confusion and curiosity. But had any one looked closely at thepopulation that day, he would have noticed, among the groups of honestbourgeois with smiling faces, a considerable number of men in longcloaks, who exchanged glances and signs when at a distance, and whenthey met, a few rapid words in a low tone. These men seemed greatlyoccupied with the procession, followed it closely, and appeared toreceive their orders from an old man, whose sharp black eyes, in spiteof his white beard and grayish eyebrows, showed a vigorous activity.This old man, either by his own efforts or by those of his companions,was among the first to gain admission to the Louvre, and, thanks to thekindness of the Swiss guard, succeeded in finding a place behind theambassadors, opposite Marguerite and Henry of Navarre.
Henry, informed by La Mole that De Mouy would be present in somedisguise or other, looked round on all sides. At last his eyesencountered those of the old man and held them.
A sign from De Mouy had dispelled all doubt. He was so changed thatHenry himself was doubtful whether this old man with the white beardcould be the intrepid Huguenot chief who five or six days before hadmade so desperate a defence.
A word from Henry whispered into Marguerite's ear called the attentionof the queen to De Mouy. Then her beautiful eyes wandered around thegreat hall in search of La Mole; but in vain--La Mole was not there.
The speeches began. The first was to the King. Lasco, in the name of theDiet, asked him to consent that the crown of Poland be offered to aprince of the house of France.
Charles's reply was short and to the point. He presented his brother,the Duc d'Anjou, whose courage he praised highly to the Polishambassadors. He spoke in French, and an interpreter translated his replyat the end of each sentence. While the interpreter was speaking, theKing was seen applying a handkerchief to his lips, and each time heremoved it, it was covered with blood. When Charles's reply wasfinished, Lasco turned to the Duc d'Anjou, bowed, and began a Latinaddress, in which he offered him the throne in the name of the Polishnation.
The duke replied in the same language, and in a voice he strove in vainto render firm, that he accepted with gratitude the honor which wasoffered to him. While he spoke, Charles remained standing, with lipscompressed, and fixed on him eyes as calm and threatening as those of aneagle.
When the duke had finished, Lasco took the crown of the Jagellos fromthe red velvet cushion on which it rested, and while two Polish noblesplaced the royal mantle on the duke, he laid the crown in Charles'shands.
Charles signed to his brother, the Duc d'Anjou knelt down before him,and with his own hand the King placed the crown on his brother's head.Then the two kings exchanged one of the most bitter kisses everexchanged between two brothers.
At once a herald cried:
"Alexander Edward Henry of France, Duc d'Anjou, is crowned King ofPoland. Long live the King of Poland!"
The entire assembly repeated the cry: "Long live the King of Poland!"Then Lasco turned to Marguerite. The discourse of the beautiful queenhad been reserved for the last. Now, as it was a compliment accorded herin order to display her brilliant talents, as they were called, everyone paid great attention to the reply, which was in Latin, and which, aswe have said, Marguerite had composed herself. Lascos's address was moreof a eulogy than an address. He had yielded, Sarmatian that he was, tothe admiration which the beautiful queen of Navarre inspired in everyone. He had borrowed his language from Ovid; his style was that ofRonsard. He said that having left Varsovia in the middle of a very darknight, neither he nor his companions would have been able to find theirway, had they not, like the Magi, been guided by two stars which becamemore and more brilliant as they drew nearer to France, and which nowthey recognized as the two beautiful eyes of the Queen of Navarre.Finally, passing from the Gospel to the Koran, from Syria to Arabia,from Nazareth to Mecca, he concluded by saying that he was quiteprepared to do what the ardent votaries of the prophet did. When theywere fortunate enough to see his tomb, they put out their eyes, feelingthat after they had looked at such a sight, nothing in the world wasworth being admired.
This address was loudly applauded by those who understood Latin becausethey were of the same opinion as the orator, and by those who did notunderstand it because they wished to appear as though they did.
Marguerite made a gracious courtesy to the gallant Sarmatian; thenfixing her eyes on De Mouy, began her reply in these words:
"_Quod nunc hac in aula insperati adestis exultaremus, ego et conjux, nisi ideo immineret calamitas, scilicet non solum fratris sed etiam amici orbitas._"[15]
These words had a double meaning, and, while intended for De Mouy, wereapparently addressed to Henry of Anjou. The latter, therefore, bowed intoken of gratitude.
Charles did not remember having read this sentence in the address whichhad been submitted to him some days before; but he attached noimportance to Marguerite's words, which he knew were merelyconventional. Besides, he understood Latin very imperfectly.
Marguerite continued:
"_Adeo dolemur a te dividi ut tecum proficisci maluissemus. Sed idem fatum quo nunc sine ulla mora Lutetia cedere juberis, hac in urbe detinet. Proficiscere ergo, frater; proficiscere, amice; proficiscere sine nobis; proficiscentem sequuntur spes et desideria nostra._"[16]
It may easily be imagined that De Mouy listened with the closestattention to these words which, although addressed to the ambassadors,were intended for him alone. Two or three times Henry had glancedindifferently over his shoulder to intimate to the young Huguenot thatD'Alencon had refused; but the act, which appeared involuntary, wouldhave been insufficient for De Mouy, had not Marguerite's words confirmedit.
While looking at Marguerite and listening with his whole soul, hispiercing black eyes beneath their gray brows struck Catharine, whostarted as if she had had a shock of electricity, and who did not removeher eyes from him.
"What a strange face!" thought she, continuing to change her expressionaccording as the ceremony required it. "Who is this man who watchesMarguerite so attentively and whom Marguerite and Henry on their partlook at so earnestly?"
The Queen of Navarre went on with her address, which from that point wasa reply to the courtesies of the Polish ambassador. While Catharine wasracking her brain to discover the name of this fine old man the masterof ceremonies came up behind her and handed her a perfumed satin bagcontaining a folded paper. She opened the bag, drew out the paper, andread these words:
"_By the aid of a cordial which I have just administered to him Maurevel has somewhat recovered his strength, and has succeeded in writing the name of the man who was in the apartment of the King of Navarre. This man was Monsieur de Mouy._"
"De Mouy!" thought the queen; "well, I felt it was he. But this oldman--ah! _cospetto!_--this old man is"--
She leaned toward the captain of the guard.
"Look, Monsieur de Nancey," said she, "but without attracting attention;look at Lasco who is speaking. Behind him--do you see the old man withthe white beard, in the black velvet suit?"
"Yes, madame," replied the captain.
"Well, do not lose sight of him."
"The one to whom the King of Navarre made a sign just now?"
"Exactly. Station yourself at the door of the Louvre with ten men, andwhen he comes out invite him in the King's name to dinner. If heaccepts, take him into some room in which you must keep him a prisoner.If he resists, seize him, dead or alive."
Fortunately Henry, who had been paying but little attention toMarguerite's address, was looking at Catharine, and had not lost asingle expression of her face. Seeing the eyes of the queen mother fixedso earnestly on De Mouy, he grew uneasy; when he saw her give an orderto the captain of the guard he comprehended everything.
It was at this moment that he made the sign which had surprised Monsieurde Nancey, and which meant, "You are discovered, save yourself!"
De Mouy understood this gesture, which was a fitting climax to theportion of Marguerite's address intended for him. He did not delay aninstant, but mingled with the crowd and disappeared.
Henry, however, was not easy until Monsieur de Nancey had returned toCatharine, and he saw from the frown on the queen mother's face that thecaptain had not been in time.
The audience was over. Marguerite exchanged a few unofficial words withLasco.
The King staggered to his feet, bowed, and went out, leaning on the armof Ambroise Pare, who had not left him since his illness.
Catharine, pale with anger, and Henry, silent from disappointment,followed.
As to the Duc d'Alencon, he had scarcely been noticed during theceremony, and not once had Charles, whose eyes had not left the Ducd'Anjou, glanced at him.
The new King of Poland felt himself lost. Far from his mother, carriedaway by those barbarians of the north, he was like Antaeus, the son ofTerra, who lost his strength when lifted in the arms of Hercules. Oncebeyond the frontier the Duc d'Anjou felt that he was forever excludedfrom the throne of France.
Instead of following the King he retired to his mother's apartments.
He found her no less gloomy and preoccupied than himself, for she wasthinking of that fine mocking face she had not lost sight of during theceremony, of the Bearnais for whom destiny had seemed to make way,sweeping aside kings, royal assassins, enemies, and obstacles.
Seeing her beloved son pale beneath his crown, and bent under his royalmantle, clasping his beautiful hands in silence, and holding them out toher piteously, Catharine rose and went to him.
"Oh, mother," cried the King of Poland, "I am condemned to die inexile!"
"My son," said Catharine, "have you so soon forgotten Rene's prediction?Do not worry, you will not have to stay there long."
"Mother, I entreat you," said the Duc d'Anjou, "if there is theslightest hint, or the least suspicion, that the throne of France is tobe vacant, send me word."
"Do not worry, my son," said Catharine. "Until the day for which both ofus are waiting, there shall always be a horse saddled in my stable, andin my antechamber a courier ready to set out for Poland."