CHAPTER XX
A CHILD KING AND QUEEN
If in imagination we go forward two days, and traverse forty leagues of space, we may fancy ourselves on the 27th of February at the splendid Château de Blois, where the court was temporarily established.
There had been a great celebration at the château the day before, with jousting and ballets and allegorical representations, all under the direction of Monsieur Antoine de Baïf the poet.
So that on the morning in question the young king and his queen, for whose entertainment the fête had been given, had risen rather later than usual, and not fully rested from the fatigue of their holiday-making.
Fortunately no reception was appointed for that day, so that they were at liberty to amuse themselves by chatting over at their leisure the things that had pleased their fancy.
"For my own part," said Mary Stuart, "I thought all the entertainments the finest and rarest things imaginable."
"Yes," replied François, "especially the ballets and the scenes that were acted. But I must confess that the sonnets and madrigals seemed to me a trifle tiresome."
"What!" cried Mary; "why, they were very bright and clever, I assure you."
"But too everlastingly eulogistic, you must agree, mignonne. You see, it's not especially amusing to hear one's self praised thus by the hour; and I could not help fancying last evening that the good God Himself must sometimes have His moments of being bored in His Paradise. Then you must remember, too, that these gentlemen, especially Messieurs de Baïf and de Maisonfleur, have a way of interlarding their discourse with numbers of Latin words, which I do not always understand.”
"But that has a very learned air," said Mary, "and it is a fashion which makes me feel very literary and of very correct taste."
"Ah, Mary, you know so much yourself!" replied the young king, smiling. "You can make verses, and you understand Latin, too, while I have never succeeded in making any headway in it."
"But study is our lot, and the only amusement we women have, just as you men and princes are born to action and command."
"Nevertheless," rejoined François, "just for the sake of equalling you in one thing, I would like to know as much as my brother Charles."
"Apropos of our brother Charles," Mary interrupted, "did you notice him yesterday in the part he assumed in the allegory of 'Religion defended by the Three Divine Virtues'?"
"Yes," said the king; "he was one of the horsemen who represented the virtues,—Charity, I think."
"The very same," replied Mary. "Well, did you see, Sire, with what fury he belabored the head of poor Heresy?"
"Yes, indeed, when she came forward in the midst of the flames with the body of a serpent. Charles seemed to be quite beside himself, really."
"And, tell me, gentle Sire," continued the queen, "did not that head of Heresy seem to you to resemble some one?"
"Why, yes," said François, "I thought I must be mistaken; but it assuredly wore the expression of Monsieur de Coligny, did it not?"
"Say, rather, that it was Monsieur l'Amiral, feature for feature."
"And all those devils who carried him off!" said the king.
"And the joy of our uncle the cardinal!"
"And my mother's smile."
"It was almost frightful!" said the young queen. "And yet, François, your mother was very beautiful last evening with her dress of shimmering gold and her tan-colored veil,—a magnificent costume!"
"Yes, it was," replied the king; "and so, my mignonne, I have ordered a similar dress for you at Constantinople, through Monsieur de Grandchamp, and you shall also have a veil of Roman gauze like my mother's."
"Oh, thanks, my gallant spouse! Thanks! I certainly do not envy the fate of our sister Élisabeth of Spain, who, they say, never wears the same dress twice. And yet I should not like to have any woman in France, even your mother, seem to be more finely dressed than I, especially in your eyes."
"Ah, what difference does it make, after all?" said the king; "for will you not always be the loveliest of them all?"
"It hardly seemed so yesterday," pouted Mary; "for after the torch-dance that I danced, you never said a single word to me. I must needs think that you did not like it."
"Indeed I did!" cried François; "but what could I say, in God's name, beside all those clever wits of the court who were pouring compliments upon you in prose and verse? Dubellay claimed that you had no need of a torch like the other ladies, but that the light that shone from your eyes was sufficient. Maisonfleur was appalled at the danger from the vivid sparks from your eyes which were never extinguished and might destroy the entire hall. Whereupon Ronsard added that the stars which shone in your head might serve to lighten the darkness of the night, and to put the sun to shame by day. Was there any need, pray, after all those poetic flights for me to come and add my poor testimony that I thought you and your dance fascinating?"
"Why not?" was Mary's playful retort. "That little word from you would have rejoiced my heart more than all their tasteless flattery."
"Well, then, I say it this morning, mignonne, with all my heart; for the dance was perfect, and almost made me forget the Spanish pavane which I used to like so much, and the Italian pazzemeni, which you and poor Élisabeth danced together so divinely. In fact, dear, whatever you do is always done better than what others do; for you are the fairest of the fair, and the prettiest women look like chambermaids beside you! Yes, in your royal attire or in this simple dishabille, you are always the same, my queen and my love. I see only you, and I love none but you!"
"Dear mignon!"
"My adored darling!"
"My life!"
"My supreme and only good! See! Though you had but a peasant's hood, I would love you better than all the queens of the earth!"
"For my own part," replied Mary, "though you were but a simple page, you and none other would reign in my heart."
"Oh, mon Dieu!" added François, "how I love to pass my fingers through your soft silky, fair hair, and to play with it and tangle it! I can well imagine that your women might often ask leave to kiss that round white neck, and those arms, so beautifully turned and so plump. But don't you let them any more, Mary!"
"Why not, pray?"
"Because I am jealous!" said the king.
"Foolish child!" laughed Mary, with an adorable childish gesture.
"Ah!" cried François, passionately, "if I had to choose between renouncing my crown and my Mary, the choice would soon be made."
"What madness!" exclaimed Mary. "How could any one give up the crown of France, which is the fairest of all after the heavenly crown?"
"Because of the mark it makes upon my brow!" said François, with a smile that was half playful and half sad.
"What!" said Mary. "Oh, but I forgot that we have one matter to settle—and a matter of the most supreme importance—which my uncle De Lorraine has thrust upon us."
"Oh, ho!" cried the king; "that does not often happen."
"He leaves it for us," said Mary, very seriously, "to decide upon the color of the uniform of our Swiss Guards."
"That is a mark of confidence which does us great honor. Let us consult upon it. What is your Majesty's opinion upon this difficult question, Madame?"
"Oh, I must only speak after you, Sire."
"Well, then, I think that the style of the coat should remain the same,—a broad doublet with full sleeves, with slashings in three colors. Am I not right?"
"Yes, Sire; but what shall the colors be? That is the question?"
"It is not an easy one; but that is because you do not help me, my fair adviser. The first color?"
"It ought to be white," said Mary,—"the color of France."
"Then the second," declared François, "shall be that of Scotland,—blue."
"Very well; but the third?"
"How would yellow do?"
"Oh, no; that is the color of Spain. Green would be better."
"That is the color of the Guises," said the king.
"Very well, Monsieur; is that a reason for excluding it?"
"No, indeed; but will these three colors harmonize well?"
"Well thought of!" cried Mary Stuart. "Let us take red, the color of Switzerland; it will be in a measure a reminder of their country to the poor fellows."
"An idea as kind as your heart, Mary," the king responded. "There! that momentous affair has come to a glorious conclusion. Ouf! we have had enough trouble with it; fortunately, more serious matters do not give us so much. And your dear uncles, Mary, are so willing to relieve me of all the burden of government! it is delightful! They do the writing, and I have only to sign my name, sometimes without even reading; so that my crown placed upon my royal couch would serve quite as well as I, if the whim should seize me to take a journey."
"Do you not feel sure, Sire," asked Mary, "that my uncles will never have aught at heart save your interest and that of France?"
"How can I help knowing it?" was the reply. "They tell me of it too often to give me any hope of forgetting it. For instance, it is the day for a meeting of the council to-day: and we shall see Monsieur le Cardinal de Lorraine come in with his deep humility and his overdone respect,—which do not always amuse me, I confess,—and shall hear him say in his soft voice, bowing at every word, 'Sire, the suggestion I have the honor to make to your Majesty is aimed only at maintaining the honor of your crown. Your Majesty cannot doubt the zeal for the glory of your reign and the welfare of your people by which we are animated. Sire, the splendor of the throne and of the Church is the only end,' etc."
"How perfectly you imitate him!" cried Mary, laughing and clapping her hands.
But in a more serious tone she continued,—
"We must be indulgent and generous, François. Pray, do you suppose that your lady-mother, Catherine de Médicis, gives me much pleasure when, with her pale face sternly set, she reads me endless sermons upon my dress and my servants and my establishment? Can you not hear her now saying to me, with her lips pursed up, 'My daughter, you are the queen. I am to-day only the second woman in the kingdom; but if I were in your place, I should require my women to attend Mass no less regularly than vespers and the sermon; if I were in your place, I would never wear carnation velvet, because it is too gaudy a color; if I were in your place, I would have my silver-gray dress made over, because it is too décollettée; if I were in your place, I would never dance myself, but would be content to watch others; if I were in your place—'"
"Oh, oh!" cried the king, shrieking with laughter; "it is my mother herself! But then, you see, mignonne, she is my mother, after all; and I have already offended her grievously by leaving no share for her in the affairs of State, which are entirely administered by your uncles; so we must put up with some things we don't like, and respectfully bear with her scolding. I, too, will resign myself to the gentle tutelage of the Cardinal de Lorraine, just because you are his niece, do you hear?"
"Thanks, dear Sire!—thanks for the sacrifice!" and Mary emphasized her words with a kiss.
"But, joking apart," continued François, "there are times when I am tempted to renounce the title of king, as I have already abandoned the power."
"Oh, why do you say that?" cried Mary.
"Because I feel it, Mary. Ah, if only it were not necessary to be King of France in order to be your husband! Just consider a moment! I have nought but the weariness and restraints of royalty. The humblest of our subjects is freer than I. Why, if I had not been downright angry at the suggestion, we should have had to occupy separate apartments! Why, do you suppose? Because they alleged that it was the custom of kings and queens of France!"
"How ridiculous they are with their customs!" exclaimed Mary. "Oh, well, we have changed all that, and established a new custom,—which, thank God, is much better than the other."
"To be sure it is, Mary. But, tell me, do you know the secret desire I have been cherishing for a long time?"
"No,—indeed I do not."
"Well, it is to break loose for a while,—to fly or steal away, and leave the throne to take care of itself; to turn our backs upon Paris, Blois, yes, even upon France itself, and go—where? I don't know nor care, so long as it is far away from here, where we can breathe at our ease for a little while like other people. Mary, would not such a journey, say for six months or a year, please you?"
"Oh, I should be perfectly delighted, my beloved Sire," replied Mary, "especially for your sake; for I am sometimes unquiet about your health, and you suffer too frequently with these distressing headaches. The change of air and of scene would distract your thoughts, and be a most excellent thing for you. Yes, let us go, let us go! But, oh! the cardinal and the queen-mother,—will they listen to such a plan?"
"Well, after I am king and I am master," said François. "The kingdom is quiet and peaceable; and since they get along very well without my will in the government, they can do quite as well without my presence. We will take our flight in advance of the winter, Mary, like the swallows. Let us see. Where would you like to go? Suppose we were to visit your Scottish States?"
"What! cross the seal," said Mary. "Expose your delicate chest, my mignon, to those dangerous fogs? No! I should prefer our smiling Touraine and this fair Château de Blois. But why should we not pay a visit to our sister Élisabeth in Spain?"
"The air of Madrid is not wholesome for kings of France, Mary."
"Oh, well! Italy, then!" suggested Mary. "It is always lovely there, and always warm,—blue sky and blue water; orange-trees in flower, and music, and continual holiday-making!"
"Italy accepted!" cried the king, joyously. "We will see the Holy Catholic Religion in all its glory,—the magnificent churches and the relics of the saints."
"And Raphael's paintings," added Mary, "and St. Peter's, and the Vatican."
"We will ask the Holy Father for his blessing, and will bring back our hands full of indulgences."
"Oh, it will be delightful," said the queen, "to realize this lovely dream together, side by side, beloved and loving, with heaven in our hearts, and on our heads—"
"Paradise!" cried François, enthusiastically.
But even as he spoke, carried away by the fascinating thought, the door opened suddenly, and the Cardinal de Lorraine, pushing aside the usher in attendance, who had no time to announce him, burst into the royal apartment, pale and breathless.
The Duc de Guise, less excited but quite as serious, followed his brother at a short distance, and his measured step could be heard in the antechamber through the door, which remained open.