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

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СКАЧАТЬ a rock, Coconnas, who had taken time to indulge in philosophical questionings and to drive away the foul fiend with the aid of that holy water sprinkler called scepticism, having observed, through the hole in the curtain, the astonishment shown by Madame de Nevers and Marguerite’s somewhat caustic smile, judged the moment to be decisive, and understanding that a man may say in behalf of a friend what he cannot say for himself, instead of going to Madame de Nevers, went straight to Marguerite, and bending his knee, after the fashion of the great Artaxerxes as represented in the farces of the day, cried, in a voice to which the whistling of his wound added a peculiar accent not without some power:

      “Madame, this very moment, at the demand of my friend the Comte de la Mole, Maître Réné was evoking your spirit; and to my great astonishment, your spirit is accompanied with a body most dear to me, and which I recommend to my friend. Shade of her majesty the Queen of Navarre, will you desire the body of your companion to come to the other side of the curtain?”

      Marguerite began to laugh, and made a sign to Henriette, who passed to the other side of the curtain.

      “La Mole, my friend,” continued Coconnas, “be as eloquent as Demosthenes, as Cicero, as the Chancellor de l’Hôpital! and be assured that my life will be imperilled if you do not persuade the body of Madame de Nevers that I am her most devoted, most obedient, and most faithful servant.”

      “But”— stammered La Mole.

      “Do as I say! And you, Maître Réné, watch that we are not interrupted.”

      Réné did as Coconnas asked.

      “By Heaven, monsieur,” said Marguerite, “you are a clever man. I am listening to you. What have you to say?”

      “I have to say to you, madame, that the shadow of my friend — for he is a shadow, and he proves it by not uttering a single little word — I say, that this shadow begs me to use the faculty which material bodies possess of speaking so as to be understood, and to say to you: Lovely shadow, the gentleman thus disembodied has lost his whole body and all his breath by the cruelty of your eyes. If this were really you, I should ask Maître Réné to plunge me in some sulphurous pit rather than use such language to the daughter of King Henry II., to the sister of King Charles IX., to the wife of the King of Navarre. But shades are freed from all earthly pride and they are never angry when men love them. Therefore, pray your body, madame, to love the soul of this poor La Mole a little — a soul in trouble, if ever there was one; a soul first persecuted by friendship, which three times thrust into him several inches of cold steel; a soul burnt by the fire of your eyes — fire a thousand times more consuming than all the flames of hell. So have pity on this poor soul! Love a little what was the handsome La Mole; and if you no longer possess speech, ah! bestow a gesture, bestow a smile upon him. My friend’s soul is a very intelligent soul, and will comprehend everything. Be kind to him, then; or, by Heaven! I will run my sword through Réné‘s body in order that, by virtue of the power which he possesses over spirits, he may force yours, which he has already so opportunely evoked, to do all a shade so amiably disposed as yours appears to be should do.”

      At this burst of eloquence delivered by Coconnas as he stood in front of the queen like Æneas descending into Hades, Marguerite could not refrain from a hearty burst of laughter, yet, preserving the silence which on such an occasion may be the supposed characteristic of a royal shade, she presented her hand to Coconnas. He took it daintily in his, and, calling to La Mole, said:

      “Shade of my friend, come hither instantly!”

      La Mole, amazed, overcome, silently obeyed.

      “’T is well,” said Coconnas, taking him by the back of the head; “and now bring the shadow of your handsome brown countenance into contact with the white and vaporous hand before you.”

      And Coconnas, suiting the action to the word, raised the delicate hand to La Mole’s lips, and kept them for a moment respectfully united, without the hand seeking to withdraw itself from the gentle pressure.

      Marguerite had not ceased to smile, but Madame de Nevers did not smile at all; she was still trembling at the unexpected appearance of the two gentlemen. She was conscious that her awkwardness was increased by all the fever of a growing jealousy, for it seemed to her that Coconnas ought not thus to forget her affairs for those of others.

      La Mole saw her eyebrows contracted, detected the flashing threat of her eyes, and in spite of the intoxicating fever to which his delight was insensibly urging him to succumb he realized the danger which his friend was running and perceived what he should try to do to rescue him.

      So rising and leaving Marguerite’s hand in Coconnas’s, he grasped the Duchesse de Nevers’s, and bending his knee he said:

      “O loveliest — O most adorable of women — I speak of living women, and not of shades!” and he turned a look and a smile to Marguerite; “allow a soul released from its mortal envelope to repair the absence of a body fully absorbed by material friendship. Monsieur de Coconnas, whom you see, is only a man — a man of bold and hardy frame, of flesh handsome to gaze upon perchance, but perishable, like all flesh. Omnis caro fenum. Although this gentleman keeps on from morning to night pouring into my ears the most touching litanies about you, though you have seen him distribute as heavy blows as were ever seen in wide France — this champion, so full of eloquence in presence of a spirit, dares not address a woman. That is why he has addressed the shade of the queen, charging me to speak to your lovely body, and to tell you that he lays at your feet his soul and heart; that he entreats from your divine eyes a look in pity, from your rosy fingers a beckoning sign, and from your musical and heavenly voice those words which men can never forget; if not, he has supplicated another thing, and that is, in case he should not soften you, you will run my sword — which is a real blade, for swords have no shadows except in the sunshine — run my sword right through his body for the second time, for he can live no longer if you do not authorize him to live exclusively for you.” All the verve and comical exaggeration which Coconnas had put into his speech found their counterpart in the tenderness, the intoxicating vigor, and the mock humility which La Mole introduced into his supplication.

      Henriette’s eyes turned from La Mole, to whom she had listened till he ended, and rested on Coconnas, to see if the expression of that gentleman’s countenance harmonized with his friend’s ardent address. It seemed that she was satisfied, for blushing, breathless, conquered, she said to Coconnas, with a smile which disclosed a double row of pearls enclosed in coral:

      “Is this true?”

      “By Heaven!” exclaimed Coconnas, fascinated by her look, “it is true, indeed. Oh, yes, madame, it is true — true on your life — true on my death!”

      “Come with me, then,” said Henriette, extending to him her hand, while her eyes proclaimed the feelings of her heart.

      Coconnas flung his velvet cap into the air and with one stride was at the young woman’s side, while La Mole, recalled to Marguerite by a gesture, executed at the same time an amorous chassez with his friend.

      Réné appeared at the door in the background.

      “Silence!” he exclaimed, in a voice which at once damped all the ardor of the lovers; “silence!”

      And they heard in the solid wall the sound of a key in a lock, and of a door grating on its hinges.

      “But,” said Marguerite, haughtily, “I should think that no one has the right to enter whilst we are here!”

      “Not even the queen mother?” whispered Réné in her ear.

      Marguerite СКАЧАТЬ