QUEEN MARGOT (Historical Novel). Alexandre Dumas

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      “There! there! my dear gentleman!” said the landlord, whetting his knife on a strap, “you may make yourself easy; you are in the land of Cocagne.”

      Then in a low tone he added:

      “These are some Huguenots; traitors have grown so insolent since the marriage of their Béarnais with Mademoiselle Margot!”

      Then, with a smile that would have made his guests shudder had they seen it:

      “How strange it would be if I were just to have two Huguenots come to my house, when”—

      “Now, then,” interrupted Coconnas, pointedly, “are we going to have any supper?”

      “Yes, as soon as you please, monsieur,” returned the landlord, softened, no doubt, by the last reflection.

      “Well, then, the sooner the better,” said Coconnas; and turning to La Mole:

      “Pray, Monsieur le Comte, while they are putting our room in order, tell me, do you think Paris seems a gay city?”

      “Faith! no,” said La Mole. “All the faces I have seen looked scared or forbidding; perhaps the Parisians also are afraid of the storm; see how very black the sky is, and the air feels heavy.”

      “Tell me, count, are you not bound for the Louvre?”

      “Yes! and you also, Monsieur de Coconnas.”

      “Well, let us go together.”

      “It is rather late to go out, is it not?” said La Mole.

      “Early or late, I must go; my orders are peremptory —‘Come instantly to Paris, and report to the Duc de Guise without delay.’”

      At the Duc de Guise’s name the landlord drew nearer.

      “I think the rascal is listening to us,” said Coconnas, who, as a true son of Piedmont, was very truculent, and could not forgive the proprietor of La Belle Étoile his rude reception of them.

      “I am listening, gentlemen,” replied he, taking off his cap; “but it is to serve you. I heard the great duke’s name mentioned, and I came immediately. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

      “Aha! that name is magical, since it renders you so polite. Tell me, maître — what’s your name?”

      “Maître la Hurière,” replied the host, bowing.

      “Well, Maître la Hurière, do you think my arm is lighter than the Duc de Guise’s, who makes you so civil?”

      “No, Monsieur le Comte, but it is not so long,” replied La Hurière; “besides,” he added, “I must tell you that the great Henry is the idol of us Parisians.”

      “Which Henry?” asked La Mole.

      “It seems to me there is only one,” replied the landlord.

      “You are mistaken; there is another, whom I desire you do not speak ill of, and that is Henry of Navarre; and then there is Henry de Condé, who has his share of merit.”

      “I do not know them,” said the landlord.

      “But I do; and as I am on my way to the King of Navarre, I desire you not to speak slightingly of him before me.”

      The landlord replied by merely touching his cap, and continued to lavish his assiduities on Coconnas:

      “So monsieur is going to see the great Duc de Guise? Monsieur is a very fortunate gentleman; he has come, no doubt, for”—

      “What?” asked Coconnas.

      “For the festivity,” replied the host, with a singular smile.

      “You should say for the festivities,” replied Coconnas; “for Paris, I hear, runs riot with festivals; at least there is nothing talked about but balls, festivals, and orgies. Does not every one find plenty of amusement?”

      “A moderate amount, but they will have more soon, I hope.”

      “But the marriage of his majesty the King of Navarre has brought a great many people to Paris, has it not?” said La Mole.

      “A great many Huguenots — yes,” replied La Hurière, but suddenly changing his tone:

      “Pardon me, gentlemen,” said he, “perhaps you are of that religion?”

      “I,” cried Coconnas, “I am as good a Catholic as the pope himself.”

      La Hurière looked at La Mole, but La Mole did not or would not comprehend him.

      “If you do not know the King of Navarre, Maître La Hurière,” said La Mole, “perhaps you know the admiral. I have heard he has some influence at court, and as I have letters for him, perhaps you will tell me where he lives, if his name does not take the skin off your lips.”

      “He did live in the Rue de Béthizy down here at the right,” replied the landlord, with an inward satisfaction he could not conceal.

      “He did live?” exclaimed La Mole. “Has he changed his residence?”

      “Yes — from this world, perhaps.”

      “What do you mean?” cried both the gentlemen together, “the admiral removed from this world?”

      “What, Monsieur de Coconnas,” pursued the landlord, with a shrewd smile, “are you a friend of the Duc de Guise, and do not know that?”

      “Know what?”

      “That the day before yesterday, as the admiral was passing along the place Saint Germain l’Auxerrois before the house of the Canon Pierre Piles, he was fired at”—

      “And killed?” said La Mole.

      “No; he had his arm broken and two fingers taken off; but it is hoped the balls were poisoned.”

      “How, wretch!” cried La Mole; “hoped?”

      “Believed, I mean,” said the landlord, winking at Coconnas; “do not take a word too seriously, it was a slip of the tongue.”

      And Maître La Hurière, turning his back on La Mole, poked out his tongue at Coconnas in the most insulting way, accompanying this action with a meaning wink.

      “Really!” said Coconnas, joyfully.

      “Really!” said La Mole, with sorrowful stupefaction.

      “It is just as I have the honor of telling you, gentlemen,” said the landlord.

      “In that case,” said La Mole, “I must go instantly to the Louvre. Shall I find the King of Navarre there?”

      “Most likely, since he lives there.”

      “And СКАЧАТЬ