CHAPTER XXXI
A RAY OF HOPE
"One moment!" interposed Catherine de Médicis, in a cold, hard voice. "Before allowing that man to enter, pray wait at least until I can take my leave. If it pleases you to intrust the life of the son to him who cut short the life of the father, I, at all events, do not propose to meet the murderer of my husband again, or hear his voice. Therefore I enter my protest against his presence in this place, and withdraw at his approach."
She did, in fact, leave the room without bestowing a glance upon her dying son or giving him a mother's farewell blessing.
Was it because the detested name of Gabriel de Montgommery recalled to her mind the first outrage the late king had put upon her? It may be so; nevertheless, it is certain that she had no such horror as she pretended of the sight of Gabriel and the sound of his voice; for when she withdrew to her own apartment, which adjoined that of the king, she was careful to leave the door half open, and had no sooner closed another door which opened upon a corridor quite deserted at that late hour than she applied both eye and ear to the aperture, in order to see and hear what took place after her abrupt departure.
Gabriel appeared, ushered in by Dayelle, and knelt to kiss the hand the queen held out to him, before making a profound salutation to the cardinal.
"Well?" asked Mary Stuart, anxiously.
"Madame, I have prevailed upon Master Paré," said Gabriel. "He is below."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, my faithful friend!" cried Mary.
"Pray, Madame, is the king failing?" said Gabriel, in a low voice, casting an uneasy glance at the bed, where François II. lay without color or motion.
"Alas! he never seems to gain," replied the queen; "and I was very impatient to see you. Did Master Ambroise object seriously to coming?"
"No, Madame," replied Gabriel. "He had already been sent for, but in such a way, he told me, as to invite a refusal. He was expected to bind himself in advance, upon his life and his honor, to save the king, when he had not even seen him. He was given to understand that, being himself a Protestant, he was open to the suspicion of desiring the death of a persecutor of Protestants. In short, he was treated with such insulting distrust, and such severe conditions were imposed upon him, that unless he had been utterly devoid of self-respect, to say nothing of caution, he must unavoidably have been led to hold himself aloof. He did so, to his great regret, and was not urged any further by those who had been sent to him."
"Can it be that our intentions were thus misrepresented to Master Paré?" the Cardinal de Lorraine hastily interposed. "Yet my brother and myself have sent to him two or three times, and have been always told of his obstinate refusal to come, and his extraordinary suspicions. We believed those whom we sent to seek him to be most trustworthy!"
"But were they really so, Monseigneur?" asked Gabriel. "Master Paré thinks otherwise, now that I have told him your real sentiments toward him, and the queen's kind words. He is convinced that, unknown to you, persistent efforts have been made for some guilty purpose to keep him from the king's bedside."
"It must be so," returned Charles de Lorraine; "I recognize the queen-mother's hand in this," he muttered, "for she is deeply interested that her son should not be saved. But will she thus corrupt all those upon whose devotion we rely? This is a counterpart of the appointment of her friend L'Hôpital! How she does make sport of us!"
Mary Stuart, meanwhile, leaving the cardinal to his reflections upon what had taken place, and his anxiety as to what was to come, was saying to Gabriel,—
"Monsieur Paré did finally come with you, did he not?"
"At my first request," replied the young count.
"And he is here?"
"Awaiting only your gracious permission to enter, Madame."
"Pray let him come in at once!" cried Mary Stuart.
Gabriel de Montgommery went for a moment to the door at which he had entered, and returned with the surgeon.
Sheltered behind her door, Catherine de Médicis was still watching, more engrossed than ever.
Mary Stuart ran forward to meet Ambroise, took his hand, led him herself to the cherished patient's bedside, and said on the way, as if to cut short all complimentary salutations,—
"Thanks to you for coming, Master Paré. I relied upon your zeal to do good, even as I now rely upon your skill. Come quickly; come to the king!"
Ambroise Paré, yielding to the queen's restless impatience, without having time to utter a word, was soon standing by the bed where François II., vanquished by suffering, so to speak, had only sufficient strength to breathe, almost imperceptibly and with a feeble, moaning sound.
The great physician stood a moment gazing at the young face, drawn and emaciated by suffering.
Then he stooped over the king, who was to him only a patient, and felt and probed the terrible swelling of the right ear with a touch as light and gentle as Mary's own.
The king instinctively recognized the touch of a physician, and yielded to it without opening his heavy eyes.
"Oh, such agony!" he moaned piteously; "such agony! Can you do nothing to relieve me?"
The light was too far away for Ambroise's purpose, and he made a sign to Gabriel to bring it nearer; but Mary seized it first, and herself held it for the surgeon while he made a long and careful examination of the seat of pain.
This silent, minute study lasted perhaps ten minutes; at the end of which Ambroise Paré rose to an erect posture again, and let the bed-curtain fall, apparently deeply absorbed in meditating upon his diagnosis.
Mary Stuart, waiting breathlessly, did not dare to ask him a question, lest she might disturb the current of his thoughts; but she scanned his features in an anguish of suspense. What would be his decision?
The famous physician sadly shook his head; and the movement seemed to the distracted queen like a sentence of death.
"Oh!" she exclaimed at last, unable to control her anxiety any longer; "pray tell me, is there no chance of saving him?"
"There is but one, Madame," replied Ambroise Paré.
"Is there even one?" cried the queen.
"Yes, Madame; and although, alas! it is not an absolutely certain one, still it exists, and I should be very hopeful if—"
"If?" asked Mary.
"If the man to be saved were not the king, Madame."
"Oh, that indeed!" cried Mary; "treat him, and save him as if he were the meanest of his subjects!"
"But suppose I fail?" demanded Ambroise; "for God alone is master. Shall I not be accused of having caused his death, being, as I am, a Huguenot? Might not such an awfully heavy responsibility unnerve me and make my hand tremble, when I should be in need of such absolute calmness and self-confidence?"
"Listen," was Mary's reply: "if he lives, I will bless you all my life, and if—if he dies, I will defend you to the death. Therefore make the effort! make the effort, I beg, I implore you! Since you say it is the last and only chance, for the love of God, do not let it pass, for it would be a crime!"
"You are right, Madame," said Ambroise, "and I will try,—that is, if I am allowed; if you yourself will allow me, for I cannot conceal from you that the remedy to which I must resort is an extreme and unusual one, and, so far as appearances go, violent and dangerous."
"Really?" said Mary, trembling like a leaf; "and is there no other?"
"No other, Madame! There is still time to employ it; in twenty-four hours at the utmost, and perhaps in twelve, it will be too late. An abscess has formed in the king's head; and unless it is relieved and discharged by a speedy operation, it will burst upon the brain and cause death."
"Must you therefore operate upon the king immediately?" said the cardinal. "I will not take the responsibility upon myself."
"Ah, you see that you already begin to doubt me!" said Ambroise. "No, I must have the daylight; and besides, I need the rest of the night to think it over, to get my hand in practice, and make one or two experiments. But to-morrow morning, at nine o'clock, I will be here. Please be here then, Madame, and you, Monseigneur; I should be glad if Monsieur le Lieutenant-General would also attend, in order that those whose devotion to the king is well tried may be present; but no others,—as few physicians as possible. I will then explain what I propose to do, and if you authorize me to proceed, with God's grace, I will try the last chance He has left us."
"And is there no danger before to-morrow?" the queen asked.
"No, Madame," said Master Paré. "But it is most essential that the king should rest quietly, and gather strength for the operation he is to undergo. I will mix with the harmless beverage I see on the table two drops of this elixir," he added, suiting the action to the word. "Let the king take this immediately, Madame, and he will at once fall into a deep, untroubled sleep. Watch him carefully, watch him yourself, if possible, to see that his sleep be not disturbed."
"Never fear! I will answer for that," replied Mary. "I will not leave his side to-night."
"That is of the utmost importance," said Ambroise. "Now I can do nothing more here, and I ask your permission to retire, Madame,—still to devote myself to the king, however, and to prepare for my great task."
"Go, good Master, go!" said Mary; "and accept in advance my thanks and blessing. Until to-morrow!"
"Until to-morrow, Madame," replied Ambrose Paré. "Be of good cheer!"
"I shall not cease to pray," said Mary. "And you also, Monsieur le Comte, once more I thank you," she continued, addressing Gabriel. "You are of those of whom Master Paré has spoken, whose devotion to the king has been put to the proof; therefore come to-morrow, I beg you, to give your illustrious friend the moral support of your presence."
"I will be here, Madame," said Gabriel, as he withdrew with the surgeon after respectfully saluting the queen and the cardinal.
"Yes, and I will be here too," said Catherine de Médicis to herself from her post of observation,—"yes, I will be here; for this Paré is quite capable of saving the king's life with his great skill, and of thus destroying his own party, as well as the prince and myself. The imbecile! But I will be here!”