THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre Dumas
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Название: THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels)
Автор: Alexandre Dumas
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788075835925
isbn:
The duchess courtesied to the King and queen mother, and then, bowing low before the Queen of Navarre:
“Will your majesty deign to come into my litter?”
“Willingly, only you will have to take me back to the Louvre.”
“My litter, like my servants and myself, are at your majesty’s orders.”
Queen Marguerite entered the litter, while Catharine and her gentlemen returned to the Louvre just as they had come. But during the route it was observed that the queen mother kept talking to the King, pointing several times to Madame de Sauve, and at each time the King laughed — as Charles IX. laughed; that is, with a laugh more sinister than a threat.
As soon as Marguerite felt the litter in motion, and had no longer to fear Catharine’s searching eyes, she quickly drew from her sleeve Madame de Sauve’s note and read as follows:
“I have received orders to send to-night to the King of Navarre two keys; one is that of the room in which he is shut up, and the other is the key of my chamber; when once he has reached my apartment, I am enjoined to keep him there until six o’clock in the morning.
“Let your majesty reflect — let your majesty decide. Let your majesty esteem my life as nothing.”
“There is now no doubt,” murmured Marguerite, “and the poor woman is the tool of which they wish to make use to destroy us all. But we will see if the Queen Margot, as my brother Charles calls me, is so easily to be made a nun of.”
“Tell me, whom is the letter from?” asked the Duchesse de Nevers.
“Ah, duchess, I have so many things to say to you!” replied Marguerite, tearing the note into a thousand bits.
Chapter 12.
Mutual Confidences.
“And, first, where are we going?” asked Marguerite; “not to the Pont des Meuniers, I suppose — I have seen enough slaughter since yesterday, my poor Henriette.”
“I have taken the liberty to conduct your majesty”—
“First and foremost, my majesty requests you to forget my majesty — you were taking me”—
“To the Hôtel de Guise, unless you decide otherwise.”
“No, no, let us go there, Henriette; the Duc de Guise is not there, your husband is not there.”
“Oh, no,” cried the duchess, her bright emerald eyes sparkling with joy; “no, neither my husband, nor my brother-inlaw, nor any one else. I am free — free as air, free as a bird — free, my queen! Do you understand the happiness there is in that word? I go, I come, I command. Ah, poor queen, you are not free — and so you sigh.”
“You go, you come, you command. Is that all? Is that all the use of liberty? You are happy with only freedom as an excuse!”
“Your majesty promised to tell me a secret.”
“Again ‘your majesty’! I shall be angry soon, Henriette. Have you forgotten our agreement?”
“No; your respectful servant in public — in private, your madcap confidante, is it not so, madame? Is it not so, Marguerite?”
“Yes, yes,” said the queen, smiling.
“No family rivalry, no treachery in love; everything fair, open, and aboveboard! An offensive and defensive alliance, for the sole purpose of finding and, if we can, catching on the fly, that ephemeral thing called happiness.”
“Just so, duchess. Let us again seal the compact with a kiss.”
And the two beautiful women, the one so pale, so full of melancholy, the other so roseate, so fair, so animated, joined their lips as they had united their thoughts.
“Tell me, what is there new?” asked the duchess, giving Marguerite an eager, inquisitive look.
“Isn’t everything new since day before yesterday?”
“Oh, I am speaking of love, not of politics. When we are as old as dame Catharine we will take part in politics; but we are only twenty, my pretty queen, and so let us talk about something else. Let me see! can it be that you are really married?”
“To whom?” asked Marguerite, laughing.
“Ah! you reassure me, truly!”
“Well, Henriette, that which reassures you, alarms me. Duchess, I must be married.”
“When?”
“To-morrow.”
“Oh, poor little friend! and is it necessary?”
“Absolutely.”
“Mordi! as an acquaintance of mine says, this is very sad.”
“And so you know some one who says mordi?” asked Marguerite, with a smile.
“Yes.”
“And who is this some one?”
“You keep asking me questions when I am talking to you. Finish and I will begin.”
“In two words, it is this: The King of Navarre is in love, and not with me; I am not in love, but I do not want him, yet we must both of us change, or seem to change, between now and tomorrow.”
“Well, then, you change, and be very sure he will do the same.”
“That is quite impossible, for I am less than ever inclined to change.”
“Only with respect to your husband, I hope.”
“Henriette, I have a scruple.”
“A scruple! about what?”
“A religious one. Do you make any difference between Huguenots and Catholics?”
“In politics?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“And in love?”
“My dear girl, we women are such heathens that we admit every kind of sect, and recognize many gods.”
“In one, eh?”
“Yes,” replied the duchess, her eyes sparkling; “he who is called Eros, Cupido, Amor. He who has a quiver on his back, wings on his shoulders, and a fillet over his eyes. Mordi, vive la dévotion!”
“You СКАЧАТЬ