CHAPTER XVI
GUISE AND COLIGNY
After Catherine de Médicis's departure, there was a moment of silence. The young king seemed amazed at his own hardihood; while Mary, with the keen intuition of affection, could not avoid a shudder at the thought of the queen-mother's last threatening glance. The Duc de Guise was secretly delighted to find himself thus freed from an ambitious and dangerous associate before his first hour of authority was at an end.
Gabriel, who was the occasion of all this trouble, was the first to speak.
"Sire," said he, "and you, Madame, and you also, Monseigneur, I thank you with all my heart for your kind and generous treatment of a poor wretch whom Heaven itself has abandoned. But notwithstanding my profound gratitude, with which my heart is overflowing, I ask you of what use is it to turn aside danger and death from so mournful and hopeless an existence as mine? My life is of no value for any purpose, or to any person, not even myself. For that reason I would not have disputed Madame Catherine's right to take it, because henceforth it is useless to me."
He added sorrowfully in his own mind, "And because it may yet become a nuisance."
"Gabriel," the Duc de Guise rejoined, "your life has been gloriously and worthily lived in the past, and contains equal possibilities for the future. You are a man of vigor and energy, such as are in great request by those who govern empires, and are seldom available."
"Then, too," the sweet and soothing voice of Mary Stuart chimed in, "yours is a great and noble heart, Monsieur de Montgommery. I have known you for a long while, and Madame de Castro and myself have very often talked together about you."
"In short," observed François II., "your past services, Monsieur, justify me in relying upon you for like services in the future. The embers of war, which are now smouldering, may burst into a blaze at any moment, and I do not wish that a momentary despair, whatever be its cause, should deprive the country forever of a defender who is, I am sure, as loyal as he is gallant."
Gabriel listened with a grave and wondering sadness to these kind words of hope and encouragement. He gazed in turn at each of the exalted personages who had addressed them to him, and appeared to be in very deep thought.
"Well," he at last replied, "this unexpected good-will which all of you, who ought perhaps to hate me, thus demonstrate, has changed my heart and my destiny. At your service, Sire, at yours, Madame and Monseigneur, so long as you live, I place the existence of which you have made me a gift, so to speak. I was not born a villain, and your kindness touches me deeply. I was born to be devoted to somebody, to sacrifice myself, and to serve as the instrument of noble ideas and great men,—sometimes a happy, but at others a fatal instrument, alas! as God, in His wrath, knows only too well! But let us speak no more of the gloomy past, since you are good enough to believe in the possibility of a future for me. That future, however, belongs not to me, but to you; and henceforth I cherish what you admire, and think as you think. I abdicate my will. Let the beings and the objects in whom I believe, do with me as they please. My sword, my blood, my life,—all that I am, is theirs. I give my arm unreservedly and irrevocably to assist your genius, Monseigneur, as I devote my soul to religion."
He did not say which religion; but those who heard him were such devoted Catholics that no thought of the Reformed religion entered their minds.
The eloquent abnegation of the young count deeply touched them all. Mary had tears in her eyes; and the king congratulated himself on having been firm enough to rescue such a grateful heart. As for the Duc de Guise, he believed that he knew better than any one how far Gabriel's ardent self-sacrifice might go.
"Yes, my friend," said he, "I have need of you. I shall call upon you some day, in the name of France and the king, to draw the sword you promise us."
"It shall be ready, Monseigneur,—to-morrow, to-day, always!"
"Keep it in its scabbard for the present," said the duke. "As his Majesty has said, peace prevails at the moment,—there is a truce to war and faction. So rest on your sword awhile, Gabriel, and give this unfortunate notoriety which your name has attained of late time to die away. Surely, not a soul of those who are entitled to the name and possess the heart of a gentleman will ever dream of accusing you for your misfortune. But your real glory demands that this undesirable renown should sink into oblivion. Hereafter, say in a year or two, I will ask the king to bestow upon you again the office of captain of the Guards, of which you have never ceased to be worthy."
"Ah," said Gabriel, "it is not honors that I covet, but opportunities to be useful to my king and country, opportunities to fight. I dare not say opportunities to die, for fear that I may seem ungrateful."
"Do not talk so, Gabriel," replied Le Balafré. "Just say that when the king shall call upon you for assistance against his foes, you will respond to the summons without delay."
"I will, Monseigneur, wherever I am, or may be required to go."
"It is well," said the Duc de Guise; "I ask no more than that of you."
"For my part," said François II., "I thank you for your promise, and you may rely upon me to see that you do not repent having redeemed it."
"While I," added Mary Stuart, "assure you that your devotion always will meet with equal confidence on our part, and that you shall be one of those friends from whom we have no secrets, and to whom we will refuse nothing."
The young count, more deeply touched than he chose to confess to himself, bowed, and touched respectfully with his lips the hand which the queen held out to him.
He then pressed the hand of the Duc de Guise, and receiving his dismissal by a kindly gesture from the king, withdrew, being thenceforth bound, by force of a generous action, to the son of the man upon whom he had sworn to be revenged even in the persons of his children.
Gabriel found Admiral de Coligny awaiting him when he reached home.
Aloyse had informed the admiral, who had come to pay a friendly visit to his companion-in-arms at St. Quentin, that her master had been summoned to the Louvre that morning; she had imparted her anxiety to him, and Coligny had determined to remain until the count's return should reassure them both.
He received Gabriel with much cordiality, and questioned him as to what had taken place.
Without going into details, Gabriel merely told him that upon his offering a simple explanation of his connection with the deplorable death of Henri II. he had been dismissed unharmed personally and with his honor unsullied.
"It could not have been otherwise," exclaimed the admiral; "for the whole nobility of France would have protested as one man against any suspicion which would have cast a blot upon the fame of one of its worthiest members."
"Let us drop the subject," said Gabriel, with sorrowful constraint. "I am very glad to see you, Monsieur l'Amiral. You know that I am already at heart a member of your sect, for I have told you and written you to that effect. Since you think that I would not bring discredit upon the faith in which I believe, I not only wish to, but I do now abjure the faith in which I was brought up; your discourse and Master Paré's, the books I have read and my own reflections, have completely convinced me, and I am with you heart and soul."
"Welcome news! and it comes very opportunely," said the admiral.
"I think, however," said Gabriel, "that even in the interest of the Religion itself, it might perhaps be better to keep my conversion secret for a time. As Monsieur de Guise just observed, any sort of notoriety is best avoided for the present. Besides, this delay will conform better with the new duties I have to perform."
"We shall always be proud to announce your name publicly as one of us," said the admiral.
"But my proper course is to decline, or at all events postpone, this priceless token of your esteem," Gabriel replied. "But I do wish to give you this pledge of my utter, immovable faith, and to be able to call myself in my own mind one of your brethren, both in purpose and in fact."
"This is glorious, indeed!" exclaimed Monsieur de Coligny. "All that I ask is your permission to inform the leaders of our party of the notable conquest which our ideas have definitively made."
"Oh, I consent to that with all my heart," said Gabriel. "The Prince de Condé," continued the admiral, "La Renaudie, and Baron de Castelnau, already know you, and appreciate your merit fully."
"Alas! I much fear that they overestimate it; for, viewed in the most favorable light, my merit is very slight."
"No, no!" returned Coligny; "they do well to rely upon it. I know you well also. Besides," continued he, in a lower tone, "we may perhaps have an opportunity to put your new zeal to the proof very soon."
"Indeed!" said Gabriel, in surprise. "You know, Monsieur l'Amiral, that you can rely upon me,—nevertheless, with certain reservations, which I must make known to you."
"Who has not his reservations to make!" rejoined the admiral. "But listen, Gabriel: It was not only as a friend, but as a partisan as well, that I came to visit you to-day. We have spoken of you with the prince and La Renaudie. Even before your definite adhesion to our principles we looked upon you as an auxiliary of peculiar merit, and of impregnable honesty; in fact, we all agreed in regarding you as a man capable of serving us if you chose, but incapable of betraying us, whatever might happen."
"Indeed, I do possess that last qualification, in default of the former," Gabriel replied. "You may always rely upon my word, if not upon my assistance."
"Then we resolved to have no secrets from you," said the admiral. "You will be, like one of our leaders, made acquainted with all our plans, and you will be held to no responsibility except silence. You are not like other men; and exceptional measures must be taken with exceptional men. You will remain quite free, and we only shall be bound."
"Such confidence!" exclaimed Gabriel.
"Your engagement is left entirely to your own discretion, I repeat," said the admiral. "To begin with, let me tell you one fact: the schemes which were revealed to you in the Place Maubert, and which were then postponed, are practicable to-day. The weakness of the young king, the domineering arrogance of the Guises, the purpose of persecuting us which is no longer hidden,—all urge us to action; and we are about to act."
"Pardon me," Gabriel interrupted him; "I have already told you, Monsieur l'Amiral, that I can only give myself to your cause with certain limitations. Before you go any further with your confidences, I ought to tell you definitely that I do not mean to concern myself with the political aspects of the Reformation,—at least during the continuance of the present reign. I freely offer my fortune, my time, and my life to assist in the propagation of our principles and in extending our moral influence; but I have no right to view the movement except in its religious bearing, and in no sense as a party question. François II., Mary Stuart, as well as the Duc de Guise himself, have treated me very generously,—yes, nobly. I will not betray their confidence any more than yours. Allow me to refrain from action, and occupy myself only with the principle for which we strive. Demand my testimony whenever you please; but I reserve the independence of my sword."
Monsieur de Coligny replied, after a moment's reflection,—
"My words, Gabriel, were not mere empty sounds. You are and shall still be quite free. Go on alone in your own path if you please; act independently of us or not at all. We shall never call you to account. We know," he added, with a significant expression, "that it is sometimes your way to prefer to dispense with associates or advisers."
"What do you mean?" asked Gabriel, in surprise.
"I know what I mean," replied the admiral. "For the present you ask that you may take no part in our conspiracies against the royal authority. So be it! Our duty will be done when we have given you notice of our movements and purposes. Then you may follow us or stand apart; that is your affair, and yours only. You will always know, either by letter or messenger, when and where we have need of you, and then you will act as seems good to you. If you come to us, you will always be welcome; if you stay away, no one will have any fault to find. Such is the agreement to which the leaders of the party have come concerning you, even before you had told me where you stood. You can accept such conditions, I should think."
"Indeed, I do accept them; and I thank you heartily," said Gabriel.
During the night which followed that eventful day, Gabriel, kneeling before his father's tomb in the mortuary vault of the counts of Montgommery, communed with his dead in these words:—
"Yes, my Father, I did indeed take oath not only to punish your murderer in his own lifetime, but also to visit his sins upon his children after him. There is no doubt of it, O my Father, no doubt! But I did not anticipate what has happened. Are there not obligations even more sacred than the fulfilment of an oath? What duty can compel one to strike down an enemy who puts the sword in one's hand, and presents his bare breast to receive the blow? If you were living, my Father, I am sure you would advise me to postpone my wrath, and not to meet confidence with treachery. Forgive me, then, from the grave, for doing what if you were living you would require me to do. Moreover, something seems to tell me that my vengeance is merely suspended, and that but for a short time. You know on high what we can only feel a presentiment of here below. But the pallor of this sickly king, and the frightful glance with which his mother threatened him, and the predictions (which have thus far proved accurate, and which decree that my own life must fall a prey to that woman's rancorous hatred), and the conspiracies already set on foot against the reign which began only yesterday,—all combine to lead me to think it probable that the boy of sixteen will occupy the throne for a much less time even than the man of forty, and that I shall very soon be able to resume my task and my oath of expiation, my Father, under the reign of another of the sons of Henri II.”