CHAPTER LIX.

  THE CHAPEL.

  In profound silence the mournful procession crossed the two drawbridgesof the fortress and the courtyard which leads to the chapel, through thewindows of which a pale light colored the white faces of the red-robedpriests.

  Coconnas eagerly breathed the night air, although it was heavy withrain. He looked at the profound darkness and rejoiced that everythingseemed propitious for the flight of himself and his companion. Itrequired all his will-power, all his prudence, all his self-control tokeep from springing from the litter when on entering the chapel heperceived near the choir, three feet from the altar, a figure wrapped ina great white cloak.

  It was La Mole.

  The two soldiers who accompanied the litter stopped outside of the door.

  "Since they have done us the final favor of once more leaving ustogether," said Coconnas in a drawling voice, "take me to my friend."

  The bearers had had no different order, and made no objection toassenting to Coconnas's demand.

  La Mole was gloomy and pale; his head rested against the marble wall;his black hair, bathed with profuse perspiration, gave to his face thedull pallor of ivory, and seemed still to stand on end.

  At a sign from the turnkey the two attendants went to find the priestfor whom Coconnas had asked.

  This was the signal agreed on.

  Coconnas followed them with anxious eyes; but he was not the only onewhose glance was riveted on them.

  Scarcely had they disappeared when two women rushed from behind thealtar and hurried to the choir with cries of joy, rousing the air like awarm and restless breeze which precedes a storm.

  Marguerite rushed towards La Mole, and caught him in her arms.

  La Mole uttered a piercing shriek, like one of the cries Coconnas hadheard in his dungeon and which had so terrified him.

  "My God! What is the matter, La Mole?" cried Marguerite, springing backin fright.

  La Mole uttered a deep moan and raised his hands to his eyes as thoughto hide Marguerite from his sight.

  The queen was more terrified at the silence and this gesture than shehad been at the shriek.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed, "what is the matter? You are covered with blood."

  Coconnas, who had rushed to the altar for the dagger, and who wasalready holding Henriette in his arms, now came back.

  "Rise," said Marguerite, "rise, I beg you! You see the time has come."

  A hopelessly sad smile passed over the white lips of La Mole, who seemedalmost unequal to the effort.

  "Beloved queen!" said the young man, "you counted without Catharine, andconsequently without a crime. I underwent the torture, my bones arebroken, my whole body is nothing but a wound, and the effort I make nowto press my lips to your forehead causes me pain worse than death."

  Pale and trembling, La Mole touched his lips to the queen's brow.

  "The rack!" cried Coconnas, "I, too, suffered it, but did not theexecutioner do for you what he did for me?"

  Coconnas related everything.

  "Ah!" said La Mole, "I see; you gave him your hand the day of our visit;I forgot that all men are brothers, and was proud. God has punished mefor it!"

  La Mole clasped his hands.

  Coconnas and the women exchanged a glance of indescribable terror.

  "Come," said the jailer, who until then had stood at the door to keepwatch, and had now returned, "do not waste time, dear Monsieur deCoconnas; give me my thrust of the dagger, and do it in a way worthy ofa gentleman, for they are coming."

  Marguerite knelt down before La Mole, as if she were one of the marblefigures on a tomb, near the image of the one buried in it.

  "Come, my friend," said Coconnas, "I am strong, I will carry you, I willput you on your horse, or even hold you in front of me, if you cannotsit in the saddle; but let us start. You hear what this good man says;it is a question of life and death."

  La Mole made a superhuman struggle, a final effort.

  "Yes," said he, "it is a question of life or death."

  And he strove to rise.

  Annibal took him by the arm and raised him. During the process La Moleuttered dull moans, but when Coconnas let go of him to attend to theturnkey, and when he was supported only by the two women his legs gaveway, and in spite of the effort of Marguerite, who was wildly sobbing,he fell back in a heap, and a piercing shriek which he could notrestrain echoed pitifully throughout the vaults of the chapel, whichvibrated long after.

  "You see," said La Mole, painfully, "you see, my queen! Leave me; giveme one last kiss and go. I did not confess, Marguerite, and our secretis hidden in our love and will die with me. Good-by, my queen, myqueen."

  Marguerite, herself almost lifeless, clasped the dear head in her arms,and pressed on it a kiss which was almost holy.

  "You Annibal," said La Mole, "who have been spared these agonies, whoare still young and able to live, flee, flee; give me the supremeconsolation, my dear friend, of knowing you have escaped."

  "Time flies," said the jailer; "make haste."

  Henriette gently strove to lead Annibal to the door. Marguerite on herknees before La Mole, sobbing, and with dishevelled hair, looked like aMagdalene.

  "Flee, Annibal," said La Mole, "flee; do not give our enemies the joyfulspectacle of the death of two innocent men."

  Coconnas quietly disengaged himself from Henriette, who was leading himto the door, and with a gesture so solemn that it seemed majestic said:

  "Madame, first give the five hundred crowns we promised to this man."

  "Here they are," said Henriette.

  Then turning to La Mole, and shaking his head sadly:

  "As for you, La Mole, you do me wrong to think for an instant that Icould leave you. Have I not sworn to live and die with you? But you aresuffering so, my poor friend, that I forgive you."

  And seating himself resolutely beside his friend Coconnas leaned forwardand kissed his forehead.

  Then gently, as gently as a mother would do to her child, he drew thedear head towards him, until it rested on his breast.

  Marguerite was numb. She had picked up the dagger which Coconnas hadjust let fall.

  "Oh, my queen," said La Mole, extending his arms to her, andunderstanding her thought, "my beloved queen, do not forget that I diein order to destroy the slightest suspicion of our love!"

  "But what can I do for you, then," cried Marguerite, in despair, "if Icannot die with you?"

  "You can make death sweet to me," replied La Mole; "you can come to mewith smiling lips."

  Marguerite advanced and clasped her hands as if asking him to speak.

  "Do you remember that evening, Marguerite, when in exchange for the lifeI then offered you, and which to-day I lay down for you, you made me asacred promise."

  Marguerite gave a start.

  "Ah! you do remember," said La Mole, "for you shudder."

  "Yes, yes, I remember, and on my soul, Hyacinthe, I will keep thatpromise."

  Marguerite raised her hand towards the altar, as if calling God a secondtime to witness her oath.

  La Mole's face lighted up as if the vaulted roof of the chapel hadopened and a heavenly ray had fallen on him.

  "They are coming!" said the jailer.

  Marguerite uttered a cry, and rushed to La Mole, but the fear ofincreasing his agony made her pause trembling before him.

  Henriette pressed her lips to Coconnas's brow, and said to him:

  "My Annibal, I understand, and I am proud of you. I well know that yourheroism makes you die, and for that heroism I love you. Before God Iwill always love you more than all else, and what Marguerite has swornto do for La Mole, although I know not what it is, I swear I will do foryou also."

  And she held out her hand to Marguerite.

  "Ah! thank you," said Coconnas; "that is the way to speak."

  "Before you leave me, my queen," said La Mole, "one last favor. Give mesome last souvenir, that I may kiss it as I mount the scaffold."

  "Ah! yes, yes," cri
ed Marguerite; "here!"

  And she unfastened from her neck a small gold reliquary suspended from achain of the same metal.

  "Here," said she, "is a holy relic which I have worn from childhood. Mymother put it around my neck when I was very little and she still lovedme. It was given me by my uncle, Pope Clement and has never left me.Take it! take it!"

  La Mole took it, and kissed it passionately.

  "They are at the door," said the jailer; "flee, ladies, flee!"

  The two women rushed behind the altar and disappeared.

  At the same moment the priest entered.