La reine Margot. English

  CHAPTER LXII.

  THE SWEAT OF BLOOD.

  A few days after the terrible scene we have just described, that is, onthe 30th of May, 1574, while the court was at Vincennes, suddenly agreat commotion was heard in the chamber of the King. The latter hadbeen taken ill in the midst of the ball he had given the day of theexecution of the two young men, and had been ordered by his physiciansinto the pure air of the country.

  It was eight o'clock in the morning. A small group of courtiers weretalking excitedly in the antechamber, when suddenly a cry was heard, andCharles's nurse appeared at the door, her eyes filled with tears,calling frantically:

  "Help! Help!"

  "Is his Majesty worse?" asked the Captain de Nancey, whom, as we know,the King had relieved from all duty to Queen Catharine in order toattach him to himself.

  "Oh! Blood! Blood!" cried the nurse. "The doctors! call the doctors!"

  Mozille and Ambroise Pare in turn attended the august patient, and thelatter, seeing the King fall asleep, had taken advantage of the fact towithdraw for a few moments. Meanwhile a great perspiration had brokenout all over the King; and as Charles suffered from a relaxation of thecapillary vessels, which caused a haemorrhage of the skin, the bloodysweat had alarmed the nurse, unaccustomed to this strange phenomenon,who, being a Protestant, kept repeating that it was a judgment for theblood of the Huguenots shed in the massacre of Saint Bartholomew.

  The courtiers went in all directions in search of the doctor, who couldnot be far away, and whom they could not fail to meet. The antechamber,therefore, became deserted, every one being anxious to show his zeal inbringing the much-needed physician.

  Just then a door opened and Catharine appeared. She passed hurriedlythrough the antechamber and hastily entered the apartment of her son.

  Charles was stretched on his bed, his eyes closed, his breast heaving;from his body oozed a crimson sweat. His hand hung over the bed, andfrom the end of each finger dropped a ruby liquid. It was a horriblesight.

  At the sound of his mother's steps, as if he knew she was there, Charlessat up.

  "Pardon, madame," said he, looking at her, "but I desire to die inpeace."

  "To die, my son?" said Catharine. "This is only a passing attack of yourwretched trouble. Would you have us despair in this way?"

  "I tell you, madame, I feel that my soul is about to pass away. I tellyou, madame, that death is near me, by Heaven! I feel what I feel, and Iknow what I am talking about!"

  "Sire," said the queen, "your imagination is your most serious trouble.Since the well-merited punishment of those two sorcerers, thoseassassins, La Mole and Coconnas, your physical suffering should havediminished. The mental trouble alone continues, and if I could talk withyou for just ten minutes I could prove to you"--

  "Nurse," said Charles, "watch at the door that no one may enter. QueenCatharine de Medicis wishes to speak with her well-loved son CharlesIX."

  The nurse withdrew.

  "Well," continued Charles, "this interview will have to take place someday or other, and better to-day than to-morrow. Besides, to-morrow maybe too late. But a third person must be present."

  "Why?"

  "Because I tell you I am dying," repeated Charles with frightfulseriousness; "because at any moment death may enter this chamber, asyou have done, pale, silent, and unannounced. It is, therefore, time.Last night I settled my personal affairs; this morning I will arrangethose of the kingdom."

  "What person do you desire to see?" asked Catharine.

  "My brother, madame. Have him summoned."

  "Sire," said the queen, "I see with pleasure that the prejudicesdictated by hatred rather than pain are leaving your mind, as they soonwill fade from your heart. Nurse!" cried Catharine, "nurse!"

  The woman, who was keeping watch outside, opened the door.

  "Nurse," said Catharine, "by order of my son, when Monsieur de Nanceyreturns say to him to summon the Duc d'Alencon."

  Charles made a sign which detained the woman.

  "I said my brother, madame," said Charles.

  Catharine's eyes dilated like those of a tigress about to show heranger. But Charles raised his hand imperatively.

  "I wish to speak to my brother Henry," said he. "Henry alone is mybrother; not he who is king yonder, but he who is a prisoner here. Henryshall know my last wishes."

  "And do you think," exclaimed the Florentine, with unusual boldness inthe face of the dread will of her son, her hatred for the Bearnais beingstrong enough to make her forget her customary dissimulation,--"do youthink that if, as you say, you are near the tomb, I will yield to anyone, especially a stranger, my right to be present at your last hour; myright as queen and mother?"

  "Madame," said Charles, "I am still King; and I still command. I tellyou that I desire to speak to my brother Henry and yet you do not summonmy captain of the guard. A thousand devils! I warn you, madame, I stillhave strength enough to go for him myself."

  The King made a movement as if to rise from the bed, which brought tolight his body, bloody like Christ's after the flogging.

  "Sire," cried Catharine, holding him back, "you wrong us all. You forgetthe insults given to our family, you repudiate our blood. A son ofFrance alone should kneel before the death-bed of a King of France. Asto me, my place is marked out; it is here by the laws of nature as wellas the laws of royalty. Therefore I shall remain."

  "And by what right do you remain, madame?" demanded Charles IX.

  "Because I am your mother."

  "You are no more my mother, madame, than is the Duc d'Alencon mybrother."

  "You are mad, monsieur," said Catharine; "since when is she who givesbirth to a child no longer his mother?"

  "From the moment, madame, when the unnatural mother takes away thatwhich she gives," replied Charles, wiping away a bloody sweat from hislips.

  "What do you mean, Charles? I do not understand you," murmuredCatharine, gazing at her son, her eyes dilated with astonishment.

  "But you will, madame."

  Charles searched under his pillow and drew out a small silver key.

  "Take this, madame, and open my travelling-box. It contains certainpapers which will speak for me."

  Charles pointed to a magnificent carved box, closed with a silver lock,like the key, which occupied the most conspicuous place in the room.

  Catharine, dominated by the look and manner of Charles, obeyed, advancedslowly to the box, and opened it. But no sooner had she looked into itthan she suddenly sprang back as if she had seen some sleeping reptileinside it.

  "Well," said Charles, who had not taken his eyes from his mother, "whatis there in the box to startle you, madame?"

  "Nothing," said Catharine.

  "Then put in your hand, madame, and take out a book that is there; thereis one, is there not?" added Charles, with a pale smile, more terriblein him than a threat in another.

  "Yes," faltered Catharine.

  "A book on hunting?"

  "Yes."

  "Take it out and bring it to me."

  In spite of her assurance Catharine turned pale, and trembled in everylimb, as she extended her hand towards the box.

  "Fatality!" she murmured, raising the book.

  "Very good," said Charles, "now listen; this book on hunting--I lovedthe chase madly, above everything else--I read this book too eagerly, doyou understand, madame?"

  Catharine gave a dull moan.

  "It was a weakness," continued Charles; "burn it, madame. The weaknessof kings and queens must not be known!"

  Catharine stepped to the glowing hearth, and dropped the book into theflames.

  Then, standing motionless and silent, she watched with haggard eye thebluish light which rose from the poisoned leaves.

  As the book burned a strong odor of arsenic spread through the room.Soon the volume was entirely destroyed.

  "And now, madame," said Charles, with irresistible majesty, "call mybrother."

  Catharine, overcome, crushed under a multiple emotion which her p
rofoundwisdom could not analyze, and which her almost superhuman strength couldnot combat, took a step forward as if to speak.

  The mother grew remorseful; the queen was afraid; the poisoner felt areturn of hatred.

  The latter sentiment dominated.

  "Curse him!" she cried, rushing from the room, "he triumphs, he gainshis end; curse him! curse him!"

  "You understand, my brother, my brother Henry," cried Charles, callingafter his mother; "my brother Henry, with whom I wish to speak instantlyregarding the regency of the kingdom!"

  Almost at the same instant Maitre Ambroise Pare entered through the dooropposite the one by which the queen had just left, and, pausing on thethreshold, noticed the peculiar odor in the room.

  "Who has been burning arsenic here?" said he.

  "I," replied Charles.