CHAPTER XXIV
THE KING AND THE FAVOURITE
Where the gardens of the Louvre touch upon the river is a lonely andsecluded walk. There upon the afternoon of the fourth day followingthe masquerade I found myself in the shadow of a high, ivy-coveredwall, slowly pacing towards the round-tower that forms the westernoutwork of the palace. I had taken an opportunity the chance affordedto inform the Queen of the bargain struck between the favourite, Simonand De Mouchy, and she heard me in a downcast silence. She seemed forthe time to be utterly overcome by the victorious progress of Diane.Finally she thanked me listlessly, and I withdrew, determined, however,if even at the cost of my life, to checkmate the plotters.
Whilst tossing the matter over in my mind the sudden rustling of leavesand a croaking sound arrested my attention. Glancing up I saw a smallbrown ape clinging to the ivy at the top of the wall and mowing at acouple of peacocks preening themselves on the level turf beneath him.Half amused, despite my sombre thoughts, I stopped and watched, untilat last, after a stare at their tormentor, the great birds stalked awaylike offended beauties.
"Pompon!" I called out.
In answer, the little ape turned his ribald wit upon me; but now a headappeared above the parapet, a hand seized Pompon and drew him back, andLe Brusquet's voice hailed me, bidding me come up to him. This I didwith the aid of a friendly tree, and found him on the top of the wall,stretched out like a lizard in the sun. As I reached his side he roseto a sitting posture, and made room for me beside him.
"I have got the 'can't-help-its,'" he said, "and came here to let themwork off. I have much to say to you."
"You have news, then?"
"Yes; and grave news. Listen! This morning, as usual, I attended the_petit couvert_, and found myself alone in the breakfast-room, wherecovers were laid for two. The soup was warming at a little stove, forthe King takes this, the first meal of the day, without attendance. Isaid I was alone; but that is not exactly the case, as Pompon was, ofcourse, with me, and the ape had one of his evil fits. He hopped infront of me, mopping and mowing, and I cannot tell why--perhaps it wasbecause some of Crequy's red Joue--I supped with him over-night--wasstill ringing a chime in my head, but a sudden feeling of irritationcame upon me at his antics. I seized the little beast by the scruff ofhis neck and dropped him out of the window on to the balcony beneath,where he remained, content enough with a plum that I took the libertyof lifting from the table and flinging after him. Then, leaning out ofthe window, I watched the morning, wondering to myself what new jest Icould devise for the King's amusement. But I was in a morose humour,and could think of nothing. All at once I heard the hissing rustle ofsilken robes. I turned, and faced Madame Diane. I tell you, Orrain,never was woman born so beautiful. The rose of the morning was on hercheeks. Her eyes--they are blue-black, not black--met mine, with alaugh in them, as she said:
"'Well, Le Brusquet, have you lost your ape, or has some jest failedyou?--you look so sad."
"'Neither, madame,' I answered; 'but I have lost my heart.'
"'Tell me,' she said, 'who is it? Is it La Beauce?--or, perhaps,Madame de Montal?'
"'Neither, madame; it has strayed much higher.'
"She laughed at my speech, and was about to reply, but stopped, for atthat moment the curtain lifted, and the King entered the room. Heseemed in the best of spirits; nothing affects him for long.
"'_Bon jour_, Le Brusquet!' He gave me his hand to kiss. 'What newshave you brought me this morning?'
"'A bagful, sire, for I supped with Crequy over-night.'
"'Then you shall open the bag whilst I breakfast, for I am famished.'And, slipping his arm through Diane's he led her to the table. Isettled myself on a stool near the window, whilst Diane gave his soupto the King, contenting herself with some fruit, which she picked atlike a bird. Through the heavy curtains and the closed door we couldhear the hum of voices from the anterooms coming to us like the distantmurmurs of the sea. For some little time the King ate in silence,whilst Diane and I exchanged a few laughing words. Finally he finishedhis last sippet of bread steeped in soup, pushed aside his plate,helped himself to a plum, and looked around him.
"'How!' he exclaimed. 'No roses in the room this morning!'
"'You are in error, sire,' I said. 'I have never seen finer roses thanI do now.'
"'Where?' he asked, looking around.
"But I only looked at La Valentinois, and this time she was red enough.She can blush at will, I believe. Strange that behind so fair a facelies so twisted a soul! And as the King followed my glance the blushon her cheek became deeper and deeper.
"'_Ma petite_,' and he pinched her ear, 'I find I have a rival. Ishall have to send him to the Chatelet.' Whereat every one laughed,and Pompon, hearing the sounds, hopped in through the window, andhelped himself to another plum.
"'Ah, bandit!' And the King flung a sippet of toast after him as headded: 'I am hedged in with robbers.'
"'That is true, sire,' I said gravely.
"'You heard that at Crequy's last night.' And there was a sharp notein Diane's voice.
"'Oh yes; and much worse.'
"'Come, tell us!' said the King.
"'Sire, you will remember that Monsieur Joue and Monsieur d'Arbois areinveterate gossips.'
"'I will not forget. Well, what did these gentlemen say?'
"'Amongst other things, that your Majesty would totally cancel theedicts you have suspended, and freely pardon all the Christaudins.'
"I had risked my shot, and now awaited the result. It had hit itsmark, I knew, for the King began to hum and haw, and Diane gave me alook from those blue-black eyes of hers. It is wonderful how theirexpression can change. They seemed to grow small, with a hard,pitiless look in them, and little cobwebs of wrinkles gathered near hertemples.
"'It would be madness!--folly!' And her foot kept tapping the carpet.
"'Caraffa and Lorraine are right; it would be a sin.' And the Kingcrossed himself. 'No, no! I will purge the land of its heresy. Youhave proved their disloyalty to me, Diane. Scarce three weeks havepassed since the edicts were suspended, and see what head theseHuguenots make! But I will let them see that I am King!'
"And Diane bent forward and kissed his cheek.
"As for me, I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, and so, for thepresent, went warily, and kept silence. And then La Valentinois kneltby the side of the King, holding his hand in hers, and looking into hiseyes.
"'Sire,' she said, 'I have a boon to ask.'
"'Ask, then.' And Henri pushed aside the curls from her forehead.
"'It is that you reward the faithful whilst you punish the guilty.'
"'Let it be as you wish, _ma petite_.'
"'Then sign this, sire.' And, rising to her feet, she took a paperfrom her dress and held it before the King, standing beside him, withone white arm round his neck.
"Henri read, and his face fell a little. 'So,' he said, 'you want thegoods of all heretics condemned in Paris granted to our most faithfulsubjects--Diane, Duchess de Valentinois; Simon, Vidame d'Orrain; andAntoine, Sire de Mouchy, Inquisitor of Faith! Madame, this is a matterfor the council.' And, in his weak way, the King tried to put off thematter.
"Diane removed her arm from his neck. 'As you please, sire,' she saidcoldly; and then: 'But remember the Chatillons are making head in thenorth, and tomorrow they may break the peace with Spain. Remember howfull Paris is of these traitors to their King and Holy Church! Nevermind my request; but, sire,' and her voice sank to the tenderest note,'think of those who love you and fear for you--and--let the councilto-day be firm.'
"'Oh, it will be that. I will see to that.'
"'Thank Heaven! And now, my King, my King! for the last time!' Andshe knelt and kissed his hand, and there were tears--tears, Orrain!--inher eyes.
"Henri was much moved. 'What does this mean, Diane?' And he raisedher gently to her feet.
"'It means, sire'--her eyes refused to meet his, and her voiceshoo
k--'that the time has come for me to go. To-morrow I leave Paris;but, wherever I go, my sorrow will be with me, and my memory of----'And once more she kissed his hand.
"'Diane!'
"She made no answer except to sob, and he put his arm round her, andtried to comfort her, but she gently withdrew herself.
"'Sire, let me go! I had forgotten that with a woman love lasts forever, but beauty fades. I have to-day learned my lesson.' And,sitting herself down, she buried her face in her hands.
"Henri looked helplessly around, and then, rising hurriedly, paced theroom. Once he came up to me, where I stood near the window, and staredat me, or rather stared across me, as though he did not see me. He wasyielding, I knew, and another sob from Diane broke him.
"He took up the paper, and it rustled in his trembling hand. One moreglance at the bowed figure beside him, and he called out:
"'Le Brusquet, give me a pen.'
"I made no answer, but stood as if I had not heard. I swear to you,Orrain, that I would rather have let my right hand wither than do hisbidding. Twice he repeated his order; but I stood like a stone. Dianemade no movement. His face flushed, and with a sudden effort he walkedtowards a cabinet, and the next moment the accursed paper was signed.He brought it back with him, and stood humbly beside Diane, but she didnot appear to see. At last he took her hands from her face and placedthe deed within them.
"'There, little one! Speak no more of broken hearts.' And he kissedher. She rose, and let her head fall on his shoulder, standing therewith closed eyes, but with fingers that held the paper with a clutchlike the talons of a hawk. After a little she drew back; there was alovely smile on her lips, and the blue-black eyes were sparkling.
"'Sire,' she said, 'I thank you.' Then, with a glance behind her atthe curtains that covered the door leading to the ante-rooms: 'It growslate, and messieurs there are waiting.' So saying, she bowed low tothe King, and ran from the room into the inner apartments, carrying herpaper with her.
"The King stood gazing after her, and I stood leaning out of the openwindow. After a little he came up behind me, and with studiedunconcern in his voice said:
"'An obol for your thoughts, King of Folly.'
"'I was but watching those birds, sire.' And I pointed at a shoal ofswallows that darted hither and thither in the sunlight snapping up theflies.
"'Ah! The swallows! What of them?'
"'They are lovely birds, sire; but, you see, they spare nothing.' Andeven as I spoke there was the flash of a bronze-green wing, and awretched moth that was fluttering in the air was borne away.
"The King took my meaning, and laughed uneasily.
"'You mean I have done wrong.'
"'The Duchess is a lovely woman, sire.' And I saw him flush with shameand anger--the anger of a weak man. He controlled himself with aneffort, however, and said coldly:
"'Monsieur de Besme, have the goodness to strike that gong.'
"I did so, and in a moment the doors were flung open, showing theglittering throng without. The King kept his back turned towards me,and, taking the hint, I picked up the ape and withdrew. So, you see,my news is of the gravest, and Diane has won the rubber."
"You think so?"
"It is all over. The council to-day will revoke the suspension of theedicts, and once more the hell-fires will be lit on the parvis of everychurch in Paris. I am off to grow pears at Besme. My office is forsale; but I will give it to you, with my cap and bells and baton, as afree gift if within two days you do not place a certain fair lady on apillion behind you and ride for the Swiss cantons."
For a little there was a silence, and then I rose to my feet.
"I am going," I said. "What has to be done must be done quickly."
He nodded assent. "I shall come with you part of the way," he said,and called to his ape.
With this we descended from the wall, and walked back together to theLadies' Terrace.
The gardens were full, for the perfect day had tempted all within thepalace who could do so to come forth. Scattered here and there in thewalks, or resting on the seats, were knots of people, the brightcolours of their dresses all the brighter in the mellow sunshine. Aswe were passing the fountain called the Three Graces we were stopped bya little man with a round face and bulging eyes. He was quite young,not more than four or five and twenty, but, young as he was, Monsieurde Brantome had already acquired the reputation of being an inveterategossip, and was feared more than the plague. I had but a passingacquaintance, two days' old, with him, but he seized Le Brusquet.
"_Eh bien_, Le Brusquet! I hear that you were with the King and madameearly this morning, and that high words passed. Is it true that youleave the Court?"
"I promise to leave it, monsieur, if you will but take my office."
"Your office!" said Brantome in surprise.
"Yes; I have always felt myself unworthy of it since I had the honourto meet you."
"Not at all, my friend," grinned Brantome; "you do yourself injustice.The man who quarrels with madame has unequalled claims. You have norival. _Au revoir_!"
And, chuckling to himself, the little abbe went on, leaving Le Brusquetbiting his lip. Brantome stopped the next person he met to tell him ofthe passage-at-arms, and turning the walk we found ourselves in frontof the Ladies' Terrace.
Somewhat apart from the gay groups that crowded together in the centreof the Terrace was a solitary figure standing near the pedestal of abronze satyr, cast for the late King by Messer Benvenuto theFlorentine. It was mademoiselle herself, and with a word to LeBrusquet I left him and walked straight up to her.
"I was wondering to myself if I should see you here," she said as shegreeted me.
"And I came specially to see you, so that Fate has been kind for once."
She smiled, and was about to make some answer, when there was a burstof laughter and the sound of many voices, and turning we saw Diane dePoitiers on the stairway leading down to the Terrace, surrounded, asusual, by a heedless and ever-laughing crowd. She stood for a moment,her Court around her, whilst the people on the other parts of theTerrace broke up their talk and came towards us. Then La Valentinois,who was robed in crimson, began to descend the marble steps slowly, andas she reached the Terrace all those assembled there bowed to her asthough she were the Queen. All except myself and mademoiselle, whostood plucking at the ivy leaves on the pedestal of the statue besideher, apparently unconscious of La Valentinois' presence. Whether theDuchess noticed me or not I do not know, but I saw her eyes fixed onmademoiselle, and she stopped full, about two paces from her.Mademoiselle, however, maintained her attitude of total unconcern; butafter a moment she looked up and the glances of the two crossed eachother. Mademoiselle stared past the favourite as though she did notsee her, and Diane's face became like ivory, and her dark eyes frostedwith an icy hate--a hate cold and pitiless as everlasting snow. Alleyes were fixed on them now, and there was a dead silence as thetwo--the woman and the girl--faced each other. But it was mademoisellewho was winning. Far away as her look was there was that in it thatbrought the colour back to Diane's cheeks, to make it go again. Herbosom rose and fell, she played nervously with her fan, and at last shespoke, with a voice that shook in spite of her efforts to restrain it:
"I hear, mademoiselle, that you do not find the Court to your liking."And the reply was a simple bow.
The Duchess was all red and white now. The insult was open and patent;but worse was to follow, for she made a mistake, and went on, with asneer:
"It is a pity they do not care more for the education of girls inPoitou; but I think you are right, mademoiselle. The Court is notsuited to you. You should take the veil and the black robe."
"I should prefer the black robe to a crimson one, madame. The latterreminds one too much, amongst other things, of the blood of themartyrs."
It was a crushing retort, and one to which there was no answer, for theaffair of the tailor of St. Antoine's was fresh in all minds.Something like a murmur went u
p from those around. The Duchess gave alittle gasp; but, preserving her composure with an effort, turned andwalked away, her head in the air, but wounded to the quick. The crowdfollowed her, but one figure remained--a man with a white, drawn faceand dark circles under his eyes. Thrice he made a movement as if tostep up to us and say something, but each time his courage failed him;and then, turning, he too hastily followed the others. And from mysoul I pitied De Ganache.