THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre Dumas

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СКАЧАТЬ should do better, I think, by talking of the game, my dear Monsieur de Coconnas; for unless I am very much mistaken, I am in a fair way of gaining six more crowns.”

      “By Heaven! that is true! I always heard that the Huguenots had good luck at cards. Devil take me if I haven’t a good mind to turn Huguenot!”

      La Hurière’s eyes sparkled like two coals; but Coconnas, absorbed in his game, did not notice them. “Do so, count, do so,” said La Mole, “and though the way in which the change came about is odd, you will be well received among us.”

      Coconnas scratched his ear.

      “If I were sure that your good luck came from that,” he said, “I would; for I really do not stickle so overwhelmingly for the mass, and as the King does not think so much of it either”—

      “Then it is such a beautiful religion,” said La Mole; “so simple, so pure”—

      “And, moreover, it is in fashion,” said Coconnas; “and, moreover, it brings good luck at cards; for the devil take me if you do not hold all the aces, and yet I have watched you closely, and you play very fairly; you do not cheat; it must be the religion”—

      “You owe me six crowns more,” said La Mole, quietly.

      “Ah, how you tempt me!” said Coconnas; “and if I am not satisfied with Monsieur de Guise to-night”—

      “Well?”

      “Well, tomorrow I will ask you to present me to the King of Navarre and, be assured, if once I become a Huguenot, I will out-Huguenot Luther, Calvin, Melanchthon, and all the reformers on earth!”

      “Hush!” said La Mole, “you will get into a quarrel with our host.”

      “Ah, that is true,” said Coconnas, looking toward the kitchen; “but — no, he is not listening; he is too much occupied at this moment.”

      “What is he doing, pray?” inquired La Mole, who could not see him from where he was.

      “He is talking with — devil take me! it is he!”

      “Who?”

      “Why, that night-bird with whom he was discoursing when we arrived. The man in the yellow doublet and drab-colored cloak. By Heaven! how earnestly he talks. Say, Maître La Hurière, are you engaged in politics?”

      But this time Maître La Hurière’s answer was a gesture so energetic and imperious that in spite of his love for the picture card Coconnas got up and went to him.

      “What is the matter with you?” asked La Mole.

      “You wish wine, sir?” said La Hurière, seizing Coconnas’ hand eagerly. “You shall have it. Grégoire, wine for these gentlemen!”

      Then he whispered in his ear:

      “Silence, if you value your life, silence! And get rid of your companion.”

      La Hurière was so pale, the sallow man so lugubrious, that Coconnas felt a shiver run over him, and turning to La Mole said:

      “My dear sir, I must beg you to excuse me. I have lost fifty crowns in the turn of a hand. I am in bad luck to-night, and I fear I may get into difficulties.”

      “Well, sir, as you please,” replied La Mole; “besides, I shall not be sorry to lie down for a time. Maître la Hurière!”

      “Monsieur le Comte?”

      “If any one comes for me from the King of Navarre, wake me; I shall be dressed, and consequently ready.”

      “So shall I,” said Coconnas; “and that I may not keep his highness waiting, I will prepare the sign. Maître la Hurière, some white paper and scissors!”

      “Grégoire!” cried La Hurière, “white paper to write a letter on and scissors to cut the envelope with.”

      “Ah!” said the Piedmontese to himself. “Something extraordinary is going on here!”

      “Good-night, Monsieur de Coconnas,” said La Mole; “and you, landlord, be so good as to light me to my room. Good luck, my friend!” and La Mole disappeared up the winding staircase, followed by La Hurière.

      Then the mysterious man, taking Coconnas by the arm, said to him, speaking very rapidly:

      “Sir, you have very nearly betrayed a secret on which depends the fate of a kingdom. God saw fit to have you close your mouth in time. One word more, and I should have brought you down with my arquebuse. Now we are alone, fortunately; listen!”

      “But who are you that you address me with this tone of authority?”

      “Did you ever hear talk of the Sire de Maurevel?”

      “The assassin of the admiral?”

      “And of Captain de Mouy.”

      “Yes.”

      “Well, I am the Sire de Maurevel.”

      “Oho!” said Coconnas.

      “Now listen to me!”

      “By Heaven! I assure you I will listen!”

      “Hush!” said Maurevel, putting his finger on his mouth.

      Coconnas listened.

      At that moment he heard the landlord close the door of a chamber, then the door of a corridor, and bolt it. Then he rushed down the stairs to join the two speakers.

      He offered a chair to Coconnas, a chair to Maurevel, and took one for himself.

      “All is safe now, Monsieur de Maurevel,” said he; “you may speak.”

      It was striking eleven o’clock at Saint Germain l’Auxerrois. Maurevel counted each of the hammer-strokes as they sounded clear and melancholy through the night, and when the last echo had died away in space he turned to Coconnas, who was greatly mystified at seeing the precautions taken by the two men. “Sir,” he asked, “are you a good Catholic?”

      “Why, I think I am,” replied Coconnas.

      “Sir,” continued Maurevel, “are you devoted to the King?”

      “Heart and soul! I even feel that you insult me, sir, in asking such a question.”

      “We will not quarrel over that; only you are going to follow us.”

      “Whither?”

      “That is of little consequence — put yourself in our hands; your fortune, and perhaps your life, is at stake.”

      “I tell you, sir, that at midnight I have an appointment at the Louvre.”

      “That is where we are going.”

      “Monsieur de Guise is expecting me there.”

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