".^'yfRSITY OF CALIFORNIA, 
 
 SAN DIEGO 
 
 3 1822 02724 5083 
 
 3^^ 
 
 
 
 y of California 
 irn Regional 
 ry Facility 
 
 
 u 

 
 *.
 
 OVERSIZE 
 
 r-.n 
 
 ^. 
 
 (\^r^
 
 *h
 
 A CHRONICLE OF THE REIGN OF 
 CHARLES IX.
 
 I'l'iujsiiKR's notp:. 
 
 St-jY/t liKiidred and c/i^/i/v cvpi'es (if t/:is hivk, ns well as Fifty- 
 /?('(' ropic's on fine Japanese 'vllnni paper, printed Jar 
 England and Anierlea eonihined. Eaeli eopy nund'ered 
 as I'ssned. Type diitribuled.
 
 A 
 
 CHRONICLE OF THE REIGN 
 
 () F 
 
 CHARLES IX 
 
 Bv PROSPHR MHRIMHE 
 
 ;;■//// (j.v/; //r\D/c/:o .lvd tk.x E.xaR.n'/XGs ox wood 
 
 J- ROM I)RAir/.\<.;s IIV KPOl'AKn roUDOUZE 
 NEWLY TRANSLAIi:!) INTO K N G L I S H 11 Y 
 
 GEORGE SAINTSBURY 
 
 • i-'^"'"— '-"■" i' 'lJ' ' 
 
 LONDON 
 
 JOHN C. MM MO 
 
 14, King William Street, Stranh 
 
 M u c c c X c
 
 (iiis\\h;k pkkss; — c. wmTTiNOiiAM and ro.. tiioks inrRT. 
 
 ( IIAN< KKV l.ANK.
 
 IXTRoDrcTIoX. 
 
 PROSl'l'lR MHRIMKK was Ijorn at Paris in the year 
 1803, hein^; the son of, as 1 suppose, the "Mr. 
 Merrimee" (sic) who served as a kind ot j)atron to HazHtt 
 in his visit to Paris for the purpose of copying pictures in 
 the Louvre. Meriniee received a legal education ; but 
 instead of proceeding either to the bar or to the bench, 
 after the habit of French lawyers, he entered the public 
 service. He was for some time attached to the Ministry 
 of Foreigfii Affairs, then to that of Commerce ; and finallv 
 he obtained the extremely congenial appointment of In- 
 spector of Historic Monuments, in which he did much 
 good work, and in connection with which he took many 
 interesting journeys and produced some valuable mono- 
 graphs. In 1840 he undertook a mission to Spain, in 
 the course of which he made acquaintance with the family 
 of the future Empress Eugenie. This acquaintance had 
 much influence on his future career. In 1844 he be- 
 came a member of the French Academy. At the time 
 of the somewhat famous Libri affair, he defended Libri, 
 who was his friend, from the charge of abstracting public 
 property from libraries, with such warmth, that he was 
 prosecuted and condemned to fine and imprisonment. 
 After the establishment of the Empire he was made a 
 Senator (insisting with rather uncommon disinterestedness 
 on giving u|:) the emoluments of his former appointment),
 
 VI /.yjyconccyvox. 
 
 and became one of the most intimate friends of the Imperial 
 household. He made frequent visits to England, where 
 he had many friends, especially Mr. Ellice of Glenoarry. 
 and Mr. (afterwards Sir Antonin) Panizzi of the British 
 Museum. He had some Ensjflish blood in his veins, and 
 was, as the mottoes of the following book will show, inti- 
 mately acquainted with English literature, as he was also 
 with Spanish, and in the later years of his life with Russian. 
 After middle age his health broke down, and he died 
 at Cannes, in October, 1870, having lived long enough to 
 see the downfall ot the Empire and the misfortunes ot 
 France. It was not till after his death that a new side of 
 his literary talent, which had already been established in 
 various departments for nearly halt a centur\-, w-as revealed 
 — together with a new side of his character — to the public 
 by the successive publication of two large collections of 
 letters; one, " A une Inconnue," and another to his Iriend 
 Panizzi. A third collection, "A une autre Inconnue," has 
 less interest. These letters, besides presenting perhaps the 
 best examples of epistolary style and the most various 
 subjects of interest to be found in any similar books since 
 the early years of the century, throw the fullest light on 
 Merimee's curious nature. He had been regarded in his 
 lifetime as a confirmed cynic, and cynicism was not wanting 
 in these letters ; but they also exhibited .some, at least, of 
 the sterling qualities which underlay this mask. Perhaps 
 the least favourable points in Merimee's character were his 
 ostentatious parade of Freethinking and his disregard of 
 conventional decency ; faults which api)ear to some extent 
 in his writings, but which are said to have been much more 
 marked in his conversation. Tradition assigns part, at 
 least, of the cause of this to some early disappointment or
 
 /Xfh'O/H'Cr/OX. vii 
 
 deception, and a further jiart to the influence of Stendlial 
 (Henri Beyle), who was a friend of Merim^e's youth, and 
 who undoubtedly hatl some ascendancy over him. 
 
 Merimee's literary work — all of which is distinguished by 
 the presence of what good judges have regarded as the 
 best French prose style of the century, as well as by other 
 remarkable qualities — is both extensive and various. Al- 
 though an extremely careful and accurate worker, a man of 
 many distractions, and somewhat of a man of [pleasure, he 
 found time to producer more than a score of volumes of 
 original and translated work of the highest literary merit. 
 He began rather characteristically with two audacious fabri- 
 cations, intended to catch the taste and tone of the then 
 {1825) young Romantic movement. One was entitled the 
 " Theatre de Clara Gazul," a pretended collection of trans- 
 lated Spanish plays ; and the other was " La Guzla," a 
 prose collection of (equally pretended) translations of 
 lllyrlan folk-songs. Then he tried — in the work which is 
 now presented to the reader, and in " La Jacquerie " — a 
 variety of F"rench romance, based on the novels of .Sir 
 Walter Scott, which he himself soon abandoned, but which 
 was afterwards followed out with immense success b\' 
 Dumas and others. Relinquishing this also, he ct)ntmetl 
 himself for the rest of his life, as far as fiction was con- 
 cerned, to shorter tales, the secret of which he never lost, 
 and which constitute by far the most remarkable collection 
 of the kind in literature. " Colomba," " Carmen," " Arsene 
 (juillot," " La Venus d'llle," " Mateo Falcone," " L'Fnleve- 
 ment de la Redoute," " Lokis," " La Chambre Bleue, ' and 
 others, present the widest diversity of style and subject ; yet 
 every one may be called a masterpiece. No one of Meri- 
 mee's contemporaries and rivals in this art, except Theophile
 
 viii IMTRODUCTIOX. 
 
 ( iautier, could match him in style; while he excelled Gautier 
 in dramatic conception of stor)', in close observation of life, 
 and in particular in the rigid exclusion of anything like 
 unnecessary description or digression of any kind. It is 
 jjossible that he carried this fancy for compression too 
 tar for long stories ; and a severe criticism might desire 
 some expansion in the present instance. But in shorter 
 stories the defect, if defect it be, is naturally not felt, and 
 the astonishing vividness which results from the c]uality is 
 felt without drawback. Although Merimee's love-scenes 
 were almost always tinged with a certain cynicism, which 
 prevented him from attaining the exquisite Romantic beauty 
 of Gautier's " Morte Amoureuse," he is in all other respects 
 unsurpassed. " La Venus d'llle" and " Lokis" in the direc- 
 tion of supernatural horror; " L'Enlevement de la Redoute " 
 in that of vivid yet chastened description of action ; " Co- 
 lomba," " Mateo Falcone," and " Carmen," in the fixing of 
 romantic national character ; " Arsene Guillot " and " La 
 Chambre Bleue," in two different forms — the lighter and 
 more satiric, the more pathetic and sentimental, respec- 
 tively — of the old French contc, or story of dubious morality : 
 all these stand so far above their competitors, that it is 
 difficult to conceive their ever being equalled. 
 
 Merimee's work in other directions to a great extent 
 conditioned his work in pure literature. He did not attempt 
 very much criticism, strictly so called ; but he was a master 
 of the short biographical and critical notice ; and he was 
 much addicted to historical studies, especially in Roman, 
 Spanish, and Russian history. He also, as has been said, 
 translated not a little; his practice in this respect, no doubt, 
 affecting his wonderfully fiexible and yet wonderfully 
 precise and accurate st\le, which stands at an equal distance
 
 /.VTA'O/XCyVO.V. ix 
 
 from the loose opulence of Roinaiuic colour and the some- 
 what jejune mathematics of Classical proportion. 
 
 It is very interesting to sec how these qualities appear, 
 even in such early work as the following book, which was 
 written when the author was scarcely five-and-twenty. And 
 it is also interesting to compare it with the work — " La Reine 
 Margot" — of Dumas, written years afterwards "on the same 
 subject, and with pretty distinct indebtedness to this very 
 book. In some respects Merimee's work shows delect. 
 It is doubtful whether he could ever have written a long 
 novel or romance, his very faculty of managing the nouvclle 
 or short story being rather a snare to him in this way. It 
 is open to anyone who likes to say that the earlier chapters 
 of this chroniquc are rather too much isolated studies of par- 
 ticular characteristics of the period, that their very titles 
 stamp them as such, and that sufficient pains are not taken 
 to melt and incorporate these studies — of a duel, ol an intro- 
 duction at Court, of the Renaissance combination ot devotion 
 and libertinage, of the Renaissance fancy for white, and some- 
 times not so very white magic — into a harmonious whole ; 
 that Mergy is too much of the abstract jcniic premier, 
 Diane too little of a distinct and individual figure. Some 
 truth must be allowed to these complaints ; but not too much. 
 It is perfectly true that, with the exception of the pathetic- 
 ironic figure of George de Mergy (one of the innumerable, 
 and it would seem inevitable, instances of the need which 
 the novelist feels of sketching himself), and perhaps of 
 Captain Dietrich Ilornstein, who owes something to Captain 
 Dugald Dalgetty, it is more difficult than it should be to take 
 a direct personal interest in the characters. Only in the 
 great scene between Diane and Mergy, when the massacre 
 has actually broken out, does the heroine become thoroughly 
 
 b 
 
 %<^
 
 X IXTRODL'Cr/OX. 
 
 alive ; but then she is admirable. The portrait, historic rather 
 than fictitious, of La Noue, in the later chapters, is quite 
 masterly ; but Charles himself is rather a shadow, and the 
 Admiral does not by any means stand out from the canvas 
 as he might do. The deathbed scene of George and Beville 
 is unduly prolonged, and shows something of that deliberate 
 and not too well-bred desire to shock orthodox notions of 
 malice prepense, which was one of Merimee's greatest faults. 
 But when deductions for all this are made, how much is left ! 
 The cabaret scene of the opening, with the gracious if 
 naughty figure of Mila for centre, is as well conceiveil as 
 anything in Dumas himself, and far lietter written. In the 
 succeeding chapters something ot a want of sustained 
 interest, something ol the already noticed effect of a succes- 
 sion of " studies," may be noticed ; but the interest gathers 
 as it proceeds. The love-scenes {cxccplis, )'et once more 
 cxcipiawiis) not only attract in themselves, but possess the 
 curious interest of having served as models to thousands of 
 the same kind since, while Merimee had hardly a model 
 before him. And from the moment that the massacre is 
 first seen or felt in the distance, there are few weak pages. 
 The preliminaries — the rescue of Mergy from the mob 
 by the jovial preaching friar, and the fruitless eftbrt of 
 George to keep his troopers' hands free from murder — are 
 excellent ; and even il the actual description of the massacre 
 were not associated with the fine scene between Diane and 
 Mergy already noticed, the power and graphic force (with- 
 out any fine writing or flux of epithets) of the description 
 could not escape notice. The second cabaret scene, that of 
 the two monks, is equal to the first, and the brief Rochelle 
 period is a series of vignettes of the highest excellence, 
 crowned by the more elaborate battle-piece of the capture
 
 INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 of the mill, which comes not far short of Merimee's own 
 " Capture of the Redoubt," and probably served as model to 
 the one unquestionably good thing that M. Zola has done, 
 "L'Attaque du Moulin." In these scenes, as in the con- 
 cluding one which has been alread)- criticised, the touch of 
 hardness, of a sort of complaisant dallying with horrible 
 detail, which is still more characteristic of the " Jacquerie," 
 and which alwaj's more or less distinguished Merimee as a 
 wricer, may be a little apparent. But it certainly does not 
 appear sufficiently to interfere with the enjoyment of what, 
 if it is not the best historical novel, is probably the best 
 series of historico-fictitious pictures in words that French 
 has to show. 
 
 Nor should it be omitted that even here, early as the work 
 is, and comparatively imperfect as is the writer's afterwards 
 consummate mastery of his implements, there appears very 
 much of that literary and moral idiosyncrasy which makes 
 Merimee so interesting a figure. There appears also that 
 ironic-pathetic view of life which is from first to last present 
 in his books, but the standpoint of which was never fully 
 revealed till the publication of his letters, including that very 
 interesting selection to Mrs. Senior and others which Count 
 D'Haussonville printed only the other day. Two of the 
 stories, remembered or invented as he wrote for the benefit 
 of his correspondents, which this last selection gives, are so 
 invaluable for providing the reader with spectacles through 
 which to read Merimee, that I may perhaps be pardoned for 
 translating them here. This is the first : — 
 
 " Once upon a time there was a madman who thought 
 that he possessed the Queen of China (I need not tell jou 
 that she is the loveliest princess in the world) shut up in a 
 bottle. This possession made him very happy, and he was
 
 xii INTRODUCTJON. 
 
 never tired of exerting himself, that the bottle and its 
 inhabitant might have no reason to be ashamed of him. But 
 one day he broke the bottle, and as one cannot hope to hit 
 upon a Princess of China twice in one's lite, he, who had 
 only been mad before, became stupid." And here is the 
 other : — 
 
 " Well then, when I was young, I was, as I thought, sole 
 master of a remarkably beautiful leg — not a common thing, 
 for reasons which I need not tire you by discussing. 1 had 
 for a long time never seen it except clad in a silk stocking ; 
 but by unwearying instances I obtained the favour ot having 
 this stocking taken ofi". Now the garter had lett a red 
 mark, with patches of blue-black — a mark e.xplicable of 
 course as a symptom of the delicacy of the skin, but still 
 ugly. I never saw the leg afterwards without seeing the 
 mark through the stocking." 
 
 These two stories should always be remembered, intelli- 
 gently and compassionately, in reading Alerimee. lUit it 
 should be remembered also that he never " posed ' in society 
 as a disappointed or blighted being. His pose, it an}-, 
 was rather the other way. Even in this book, purel)^ his- 
 torical as it is for the most part, there will be found, not 
 Byronism, though it was written in the very high tide and 
 spring-time of that influence, but a sincerity of disillusion 
 and disappointment, of which Byronism was generally a mere 
 travestie. Although few good judges have refused him 
 their admiration, a full and just literary estimate ot Merimee 
 is still to be made ; and the latest competitor, Count 
 D'Haussonville already mentioned, has partly eschewed the 
 task of deliberation, partly shown that he is not ([uite alive 
 to all sides of Merimee's e.xcellence. But we owe him, I 
 think, the best remark \et made on Merimee's character, the
 
 INTRO DUCTIOX. xiii 
 
 remark that at least in later lite he was domiiiated by and 
 occasionally showed " Ic sentiment qu'il etait mal compris, 
 mal juge, mais ([uil etait un pen responsable de cette 
 injustice, et tju'il devait s'en prendre surtout a lui-meme, 
 non seulement si on jiensait (piel([ue mal de lui, mais encore 
 s'il ne valait peut-etre pas tout ce qu'il aurait pu valoir." 
 As an ethical criticism this is, I think, very acute and very 
 just; but on the literary side, Merimee scarcely ««;-«// /iiw 
 valoir more than he does. His variety of interests, his fas- 
 tidiousness of taste, his freedom from any need of working 
 for a living, and his contempt of popular applause and 
 popular estimates, would probably, when taken together, 
 have always prevented him from writing a '' Decline and 
 Fall " or an " Esprit des Lois." But he has done the very 
 best thinos of their kind in more kinds, or more subdivisions 
 of a kind, than one or two, and of how many men is it 
 possible to say that ? In this particular book, if he did not 
 do one of the very best things in its particular kind, he 
 showed a whole nation the way, which was promptly antl 
 profitably followed, and himself turned out work of a rare 
 excellence. 
 
 Gkorgk Saintsdurv. 
 
 Note gr Postsckipt. — I believe that an English transla- 
 tion of the '•Chroniqtce de Charles IX." has already appeared 
 some forty years ago ; but / have never seen it, and the 
 demerits of the folloioing version, such as they are, are all 
 my oian. It ivould have been impossible to ehoose a pleasanter 
 relief and variation to the usual inquiry, " What the Szoede 
 intends and zvhat the French," and the other customary occu- 
 pations of journalism ; and I can only hope that the result oj 
 the exercise is not so very much less well performed than it
 
 xiv INTKODUCTION. 
 
 ivas pleasant in the perfoniiancc. Mcnuu^', loJio folloiucc/ 
 Scott pretty closely, hi some zaays, does not appear to have 
 aimed at luuch archaism of style, though he has touches of it 
 here and there. So that if m\ o:oii practice in this respect 
 seems a little inconsistent, I ma v plead the desire [lohich indeed 
 has been my chief desire throiighont) to folloiv my original as 
 closely as possible. The author himself added notes with 
 tolerable liberality, and it seemed unnecessary to increase their 
 number much. Indeed such additions could have served little 
 purpose, except to apologize for the occasional substitution of 
 one idiom for another — an apology usually as superpluous as 
 the substitution itself is necessary. If anyone solemnly and 
 dictionary-in-hand assures me that "a t /vis polls" means 
 " three-piled," and that I have not in its particular place so 
 translated it, I can only admit ivith equal solemnity that he is 
 quite right.
 
 
 s-v 
 
 ^t 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION . 
 Author's Prkface . 
 Chai'. I. The Rehers 
 
 11. The Morrow of a Revel 
 111. The Young Courtiers 
 I\'. The Convert 
 V. The Sermon 
 VI. .\ Paktv Leai.kr . 
 VII. A Party Leader (continued) 
 \ III. A Conversation between Reade 
 IX. The Glove . 
 X. The Hunt . 
 XI. Thk Raffine and 'ihe Prk-aux-Clerc 
 XII. Whtie Magic 
 Xlll. Slander 
 Xl\'. The .\ssi(;NAiTON . 
 .W. In the Dark 
 XVI. The Confession . 
 X\ II. The Private Audience 
 X\lll. The Caiechumen . 
 
 C 
 
 ■> Author 
 
 r.\>.i-; 
 v 
 
 r 
 •3 
 35 
 45 
 63 
 77 
 87 
 97 
 
 lOI 
 
 107 
 119 
 '3.? 
 '45 
 '59 
 '65 
 181 
 
 '85 
 '93
 
 COXrE.XTS. 
 
 Chap. XIX- The Franciscan 
 
 XX. '1'HE LlC.Hr HOKSK.MKN 
 
 XXI. .\ I, As I A I IKMIT 
 
 XXII. The Twkn iv-fourth (if Aucu.st 
 
 XXII I. Thf Two Moxks 
 
 XXI\'. 'I'he .SiK.F (iF La R(i( hflle . 
 
 XXV. 1,A NouK 
 
 XXVI. The Sai.i.v .... 
 
 XX\TI. The Hospiiai 
 
 PACK 
 2 I I 
 
 217 
 
 229 
 
 273 
 279 
 289 
 297
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 HAD been reading a considerable num- 
 ber of memoirs and pamphlets relating to 
 the end of the sixteenth century. I took a 
 fancy to extract some of the matter of my reading ; and 
 the result of the process is the [present book. 
 
 Anecdotes are the only part of history that I love ; and 
 among anecdotes I prefer those where it seems to me that I 
 find a true picture of manners and character at a given 
 time. This is not a very dignified taste ; but I confess to 
 my shame that I would willingly give Thucjdides for some 
 authentic memoirs by Aspasia or by a slave of Pericles. For
 
 2 AUTHORS PREFACE. 
 
 memoirs alone, which are as it were famihar conversations 
 of an author with his reader, furnish those portraits of human 
 beings which amuse and interest me. To form an idea of 
 the Frenchman of the sixteenth century you must go, not to 
 Mezeray, but to MontUic, I)rant6me, D'Aubigne, Tavannes, 
 La None, and their likes. The very style of these contem- 
 porary authors teaches as much as their matter. 
 
 For instance, I read in L'Estoile this short note : — 
 
 " The damsel of Chateauneuf, one of the king's favourites 
 before he went to Poland, having married for love a certain 
 I'lorentine officer of the galleys at Marseilles, named Anti- 
 notti, and finding him in the act of infidelity, slew him, 
 manlike, with her own hands." 
 
 By dint of this anecdote, and ot many others whereof 
 Brantome is full, I can reconstruct a whole character in my 
 mind, and I can bring to lite again a lady ot the Court of 
 Henri III. 
 
 To my fancy, it is curious to compare these manners with 
 ours, and to note in the latter the decadence of vigorous 
 passions. Hence, no doubt, a gain in quiet living, and per- 
 haps in happiness. But we have still to find out whether 
 we are better men than our ancestors ; and this question is 
 not so easy to settle, for ideas have greatly varied at diffe- 
 rent times on the subject of the same actions. Thus, about 
 1500, a murder by dagger or poison inspired nothing like the 
 horror that it does now. A gentleman killed his enemy 
 treacherously; he sued for pardon, obtained it, and appeared 
 in society without anyone dreaming ot frowning on him. 
 Sometimes, indeed, when the murderer had a legitimate 
 grievance, men spoke ot him as they speak now of a man of 
 honoiu' who has, in a duel, killed some scouiulrel !))• whom 
 he has been yrievouslv offended.
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 3 
 
 Thus it seems to me clear that we must not use our nine- 
 teenth century ideas in judi^ing sixteenth century conduct. 
 What is criminal in a state of advanced civilization is only 
 a bold deed in a state more backward, and in a state of bar- 
 barism may perhaps be a laudable action. It is generally 
 felt that the judgment which is passed on the same 
 action must vary with countries as well as with times, 
 for between nation and nation there is at least as much 
 difference as between century and century.' Mehemet Ali, 
 Avith whom the Mameluke Heys vied for the control of 
 Egypt, one day invites the principal chiefs of this militia to 
 a festival within his palace walls ; when they are inside the 
 gates are shut ; Arnauts shoot them down from behind cover 
 on the top of the courtyard walls, and from that time 
 Mehemet Ali reigns alone in Egypt. Well, we negotiate 
 with Mehemet Ali; Europeans even think very highly of 
 him ; he is held a great man b)' all the newspapers ; they 
 call him Egypt's benefactor. And yet what can be more 
 horrible than to butcher defenceless men in this way .'' 
 As a fact, murderous traps of this kind are sanctioned 
 by the custom of the country, and b)- the impossibility of 
 manao^intr matters otherwise. 'Tis then that the maxim of 
 Figaro, Ma per Dio, r utilita, comes in. It a minister whom I 
 will not name had tound Arnauts ready to shoot at his orders, 
 and if at a state dinner he had despatched the chief members 
 of the Left, the action would have been, as far as actual fact 
 went, the same as that of the Pasha of Egypt, but morall)- 
 it would have been a hundred times more blameworthy. Yet 
 this minister turned into the streets many Liberal electors 
 
 ' May not this rule be extended to individuals? Is the son of a thief, 
 who himself thieves, as culpable as an educated man who goes through a 
 traudulent bankruiitcy? 
 
 /!
 
 4 AUTHORS PREFACE. 
 
 who were small government functionaries, frightened the 
 rest, and made the elections go as he wished. If Mehemet 
 Ali had been a French minister he also would have taken 
 no stronger measures, and in the same way the French 
 minister would doubtless, in Fg)'pt, have been obliged to 
 take to the fusillade, turnings out of office not being calcu- 
 lated to produce a sufficient moral effect on Mamelukes.' 
 
 The massacre of St. Bartholomew was a great crime even 
 for its own day ; but, I repeat, a massacre as such in the si.\- 
 teenth century was not the same crime as a massacre in the 
 nineteenth. Let us add that the greater part of the nation took 
 a share in it or sympathized with it, and armed in a body 
 to attack the Huguenots, who were held to be strangers and 
 enemies. .St. Bartholomew was, in short, a national up- 
 rising, like that of the Spaniards in 1809 ; and the citizens 
 of Paris, when they cut the throats of tlie heretics, had a firm 
 belief that they were obeying the voice of heaven. 
 
 It is no part of the business of a teller of tales like myself 
 to give in this volume 2l precis of the historical incidents of 
 1572, but as I have mentioned St. Bartholomew I cannot 
 refrain from setting forth certain thoughts that have occurred 
 to me as I read this bloody page of our history. Have the 
 causes which brought about the massacre been well under- 
 stood ? Was it long premeditated, or was it not rather the 
 result of a sudden resolve, even of a chance ? No historian 
 supplies me with satisfactory answers to any of these 
 questions. They all admit as evidence mere street rumours 
 and alleged conversations, of very small weight in deciding a 
 historical question of such importance. Some of them 
 represent Charles IX. as a prodigy of dissimulation ; others 
 as a man of hasty, violent, and fantastic temper. If, long 
 
 ' This pix-tace was written \\\ 1829.
 
 AUTHORS PREFACE. 5 
 
 before the 24th of August, he broke out into threats against 
 the Protestants, it is a proof that he had long been medi- 
 tating their destruction ; if he paid attentions to them, it is 
 a proof that he was dissembhng. I will quote a single story 
 onlj', one repeated in all the books, and one which shows 
 with what lc\ it\ th(' most improbable rumours are admitted. 
 About a year before St. Bartholomew's Day, it is said, 
 a plan of massacre had Ijeen already arranged ; it was this. 
 There was to be built on the Pre-au.\-Clercs a wooden tower; 
 the Duke of Guise, with a body of Catholic gentry and 
 soldiery, was to be posted therein, and the Admiral with his 
 Protestants was to have made a sham attack, as if to give 
 the King a siege in spectacle. As soon as this kind of tour- 
 nament had begun, the Catholics were, at a signal, to load 
 their jaieces and kill their surprised enemies before they 
 could possibly stand on their guard. To improve the stor\-, 
 it is added that a favourite of Charles IX., named Lignerolles, 
 foolishly revealed the plot by saying to the King, who was 
 using harsh language about the Protestant lords, " Ah ! Sire, 
 wait a little longer; we have a fort which will avenije us of 
 all the heretics " (observe, if you please, that not a stick 
 of this fort was yet in position) ; whereupon the King took 
 care to have the blabber assassinated. The plan, they say, 
 was devised by the Chancellor Birague, in whose mouth, 
 however, a saying is put which points to quite difterent pro- 
 jects — the saying, that in order to deliver the King from 
 his enemies he wanted only a few cooks. This last method 
 was much more practical than the other, which is so wild as 
 to be nearly impossible. How, indeed, could the suspi- 
 cions of the Protestants fail to be aroused by the prepara- 
 tions for this mimic war, where the two parties, open 
 enemies just before, were to be set at one another's throats ^
 
 6 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 while it was but an awkward way of inakiny the Huguenots 
 an easy prey to brigade them together and put arms in 
 their hands. Clearly, if the idea was to exterminate them 
 then, it would have l)cen much better to attack them in 
 detail and disarmed. 
 
 But for my part I have a strong conviction that the 
 massacre was not premeditated, and I cannot conceive how 
 the opposite opinion lias been adopted by authors who at the 
 same time concLir in representing Catherine as a very wicked 
 woman no doubt, but also as possessing one of the most 
 statesmanlike heads of the century. Let us put morals aside 
 for a moment, and examine the supposed design from the 
 point of view^ of expediency. Now, I hold that it was not 
 expedient for the Court ; and, moreover, that it was so bung- 
 lingly carried out as to necessitate the supposition that those 
 who devised it were the most reckless of mankind. Let any- 
 one ask himself whether the King's authority had to gain or 
 lose by this execution, and whether it was the King's interest 
 to permit it. France w^as divided into three great parties: 
 that of the Protestants, of which, since the death of Conde.the 
 Admiral was the head ; that of the King (the weakest), and 
 that of the Guises and the ultra-royalists of the day. It is 
 clear that the King, to whom the Guises and the Protestants 
 were equally objects of fear, was bound to seek to uphold 
 his own authority by keeping these two parties at logger- 
 heads. To crush one was to put himself at the mercy of the 
 other. Besides, the see-saw plan was already well known. 
 Louis XL had said, " Divide in order to reign." 
 
 And now let us see whether Charles IX. was pious ; for 
 excessive piety might have suggested to him steps contrary 
 to his interest. But all evidence goes to show the reverse ; 
 to show that, if he was not a freethinker, he was at the same
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. ^ 
 
 time by no means a fanatic. Besides, his mother, who 
 governed him, would never have hesitated to sacrifice her 
 rehgious scruples, if she had any, to her love of power.' 
 
 But let us suppose that Charles, or his mother, or if any- 
 one prefers it, his government, hail in the teeth of all the 
 principles of statecraft resolved to destroy the Protestants (,)f 
 !•" ranee. In that case, when the resolve was once formed, it 
 is probable that they would have given mature consideration 
 to the means most proper for assuring success. Now one 
 thing suggests itself at once, as essential to safety, to 
 wit, that the massacre should take place in all the towns 
 of the kingdom at the same time, so that the reformers, 
 everywhere attacked by superior forces," might be every- 
 where unable to defend themselves. A single day would 
 have been enough for their destruction ; and it was thus 
 that Ahasuerus planned the massacre of the Jews. Yet 
 we read that the first royal orders for massacring the Pro- 
 testants are dated August 28th, that is to say, four days a/tej- 
 St. Bartholomew, and when the news of that great butchery 
 must have got the start of the royal despatches and have 
 alarmed all those of " the reliction." 
 
 Again, it would have been especially necessary to seize 
 the strongholds of the Protestants ; for while they retained 
 
 ' A snying of Charles IX. has been (]UOted, as an instance of profound 
 dissimulation, which seems to me to be, on the contrary, only the coarse 
 sally of a man quite indifferent to religion. The Pope made a difficulty of 
 giving the necessarv dispensation for the marriage of Marguerite de Valois, 
 sister of Charles IX., with Henri IV^., who was then a Protestant. '• If the 
 Holy Father refuses," said the King, " I will tuck sister Margoton under 
 my arm and take her to be married in full meeting-house." 
 
 ^ The population of France was about twenty million souls. It was cal- 
 culated that at the time of the second civil war the Protestants were not more 
 than a million and a half strong ; but they were pro]jortioiially stronger in 
 wealth, warriors, and generals.
 
 8 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 control of these tlie royal authority was not assured. Thus, 
 supposing- a regular plot on the part of the Catholics to have 
 existed, it is clear that one of the most important steps 
 would have been to seize Rochelle by the 24th of August, 
 and to have an army simultaneously on foot in the south of 
 France to prevent any combined rising of the reformers.' 
 
 Nothing of this sort was done ; and I cannot admit that the 
 same men were likely at once to conceive a crime the results 
 of which must have been so momentous, and to execute it so 
 ill. So badly indeed were measures taken, that a few months 
 after St. Bartholomew the war broke out afresh, a war 
 wherein the reformers won all the credit, and from which 
 they even obtained new and solid advantage. 
 
 Lastly, does not the attempt to assassinate Coligny, which 
 was made two days before St. Bartholomew, put the final 
 touch to the refutation of the supposed general scheme ? 
 Why kill the chief before the general massacre ? Was it not 
 the very way to scare the Huguenots, and to force them to 
 stand on their guard ? 
 
 I know that some authors attribute this attack on the 
 Admiral's person to Guise alone ; but, not to mention that 
 puljlic opinion accused the King of the deed,'"' and that the 
 would-be assassin received a formal royal recompense, I 
 should draw from the very fact of the outrage an argument 
 against the plot. Had it really existed, the Duke of Guise 
 must have had a hand in it ; and, if so, why not delay his 
 private vengeance for a couple of days, so as to make its 
 success certain ? Why risk the failure of the whole enter- 
 
 ' During the second civil war the Protestants in a single day surprised 
 more than half the fortresses of France. The Catholics could have done 
 the same. 
 
 " Maurevel Has surnamed "The King's Butcher." See Branionie.
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 9 
 
 prise in the sole ho[)c of hastening his enemy's death by 
 forty-eig-ht hours ? 
 
 Thus all evidence seems to me to show that this ereat 
 massacre was not the result of a conspiracy on the part of 
 the King- against a section of his people. The massacre of 
 St. Bartholomew appears to me the result of a popular 
 rising which could not be foreseen, and which was in fact 
 improvised ; and I shall now, in all humility, give my own 
 explanation of the riddle. 
 
 Coligny had thrice negotiated with his sovereign on equal 
 terms, and that was reason enough why the King should hate 
 him. After the death of Jeanne D'Albret, the two young 
 princes (the King of Navarre and the Prince of Conde) 
 being too young to exercise any influence, Coligny was, in 
 truth and in fact, the only chief of the reformed party. 
 When he was out of the way the two princes, in their 
 enemy's camp, and quasi-prisoners there, were at the King's 
 mercy. Thus the death of Coligny, and of Coligny only, 
 was important for assuring the authority of Charles, who 
 had perhaps not torgotten the saying of the Duke of 
 Alva, " A salmon's head is worth more than ten thousand 
 frogs." 
 
 But if the King could get rid at once of the Admiral and 
 of Guise, he would clearly become absolute master. The 
 course therefore that he ought to have taken was this : to 
 get the Admiral assassinated, or, if anyone prefers it, to 
 suggest the assassination to the Duke of Guise, and then to 
 have Guise himself prosecuted as a murderer, making pro- 
 clamation that the Duke was abandoned to the vengeance of 
 the Huguenots. It is known that Guise, whether guilty or 
 not of Maurevel's attempt, quitted Paris in a hurry, and that 
 the reformers, with the apparent sanction of the King, set no
 
 lo AUTHORS PREFACE. 
 
 bounds to their threats against the princes of the House ot 
 Lorraine. 
 
 Now at this time the populace of Paris was terribly 
 fanatical. The citizens, in their trained bands, formed a 
 kind of national guard, ready to take arms at the first sound 
 of the tocsin. The Huguenots, who had twice besieged the 
 town, were as much hated as the Duke of Guise, for his own 
 merits and his father's memory, was beloved. The kind of 
 favour which the reformers, at the moment of the marriage 
 of the King's sister to a prince of their faith, enjoyed at 
 Court redoubled their own arrogance and the hatred of their 
 enemies. In short, there was but need of a chief to put 
 himself at the head of these fanatics, and cry " Strike ! " to 
 make them rush at the throats of their heretical countr\men. 
 The Duke, too, banished from Court, threatened by the 
 King and by the Protestants, had perforce to seek support 
 from the people. He gathers the train-band chiets, talks to 
 them of a plot of the heretics, bids them exterminate the 
 plotters before their plot is ripe, and then, and then only, the 
 massacre is meditated. As a few hours only passed between 
 plan and execution, the mystery which surrounded the con- 
 spiracy and the keeping of the secret by so large a number 
 of men is easily explained — a matter which otherwise seems 
 very extraordinary, tor "secrets travel last in Paris."' 
 
 It is not easy to decide what part the King took in the 
 massacre ; but if he did not approve it beforehand, he did 
 not interfere with it. After two days ot murder and outrage 
 he disavowed the whole thing and tried to stop the carnage." 
 But the rage of the people had been let loose, and the 
 
 ' A saying of Napoleon. 
 
 ■■^ He attributed the attempt on Coligny and the massacre to the Duke 
 of Guise anil the iirinees of the House of Lorraine.
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. ii 
 
 people's thirst is not slaked with a little blood. More than 
 sixty thousand victims were called for, and the Kin<j was 
 obliged to swim with the resistless stream. He revoked his 
 orders of mercy, and soon gave fresh ones for extending 
 assassination all over F" ranee. 
 
 Such is my opinion about the massacre of St. Bartholo- 
 mew ; and in setting it forth I shall say with Lord Byron : 
 
 " 1 only say, SLijjpose tliis supposition." 
 
 Don Juan, cant. i. stan. 85. 
 
 1829.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE REITERS. 
 
 " The blacU l)ancls came over 
 
 The Alps and their snow ; 
 Wilh Bmirbon, ihe Rover, 
 They passed llie broad I'o." 
 
 Lord Bvkon, The Defoviiu-d 
 Transformed. 
 
 N 
 
 OT far from E tarn pes. 
 on the Paris road, there 
 is still to be seen a 
 large square building 
 with pointed windows 
 nnighly sculptured. 
 Above the i^^ate is a
 
 14 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IK. 
 
 niche where was once a stone image of Our Lady, but in 
 the Revolution this shared the fate of many sai.its of both 
 sexes, and was solemnly demolished by the president ol the 
 revolutionary club of Larcy. They have since put in its 
 place another Virgin, which is no doubt only plaster, but 
 which, with a scrap or two of silk and some glass beads, 
 plays the part fairly well, and gives an almost venerable 
 air to Claude Giraut's cabaret. 
 
 More than two centuries ago, to wit, in 1572, the function 
 of this building was, as now, to receive thirsty travellers : 
 but at that time its appearance was altogether different. 
 The walls were covered with inscriptions bearing witness to 
 the varying incidents of a civil war. By the side of •' Long 
 Live the Prince !"' you read " Long Live the Duke of Guise 
 — Death to the Huguenots!" A little further a soldier had 
 drawn with charcoal a gallows and its burden, adding below, 
 for fear of mistakes, the inscription, " Gaspard de Chatillon." 
 Yet it would appear that the Protestants had later had the 
 upper hand in these quarters, for the name of their chief had 
 been struck out and replaced by that of Guise. Other 
 legends, half rubbed out, difficult to read, and still more 
 difficult to translate decorously, showed that the King and 
 his mother had met with no more respect than these par- 
 tisan chiefs. But the poor Madonna herself seemed to have 
 had most to suffer from political and religious frenzy. The 
 statue, chipped by bullets in twenty places, proved the zeal 
 of the Huguenot soldiery in defacing what they were 
 pleased to call heathen images. While the pious Catholic 
 doffed his bonnet in veneration when passing the statue, the 
 Protestant trooper thought it his duty to let fly his arque- 
 buss at it ; and if he hit he plumed himself as much as if he 
 
 ' The rrince of Condc.
 
 THE REITERS. 15 
 
 had brought down the Beast of the Revelations and abolished 
 idolatry. 
 
 For some months past there had been peace between the 
 rival sects ; but the lips and not the heart had sworn it. 
 The hatred of the factions was maintained in all its implaca- 
 bility. Everywhere there was a reminder that war had 
 hardly ceased, and a promise that peace would be of no long 
 duration. The Lion d'Or was full of soldiers. They were 
 easily known, by their foreign accent and outlandish costume, 
 for those German troopers known as Reiters,' who were in 
 the habit of offering their services to the Protestant party, 
 especially when the Protestant party was in case to pay 
 them well. If skill in horsemanship and dexterity in using 
 firearms made these strangers formidable on the day of 
 battle, they were on the other hand renowned, and perhaps 
 with still more justice, as accomplished plunderers, and for 
 their ruthlessness in the hour of victor)-. The squadron 
 which had taken up its quarters in the inn numbered fifty 
 horsemen, who had left Paris the night before, and were on 
 their way to join the garrison of Orleans. 
 
 While some of them groomed their horses fastened to the 
 wall, others made up the fire, turned the spits, and generally 
 attended to the cooking. The unfortunate innkeeper, cap 
 in hand and tears in eye, gazed on the racket which was going 
 on in his kitchen. He saw the poultry yard emptied, the 
 cellar under contribution, bottles broken short off at the neck 
 to save the trouble of drawing the cork, and, worst of all, he 
 knew that, for all the King's strict ordinances as to discipline 
 in the army, there was not the slightest compensation to 
 expect from those who were treating him as if they were in 
 a conquered country. It was an established principle in 
 
 ' By coriuiuion from the German iriitcr, 'horseman.' [In French )dlre.~]
 
 i6 
 
 CJ//^OXJCLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 these unlucky times that, in peace or in war, armed men ditl 
 wliat was rit,rht in their own eyes wherever they found them- 
 selves. 
 
 Before a table of oak, blackened by grease and smoke, 
 
 sat the captain of the Reiters. 
 He was a tall and stout man of 
 about fifty, with a hooked nose 
 and a high colour. His scanty 
 and grizzled hair scarcely covered 
 
 left ear and lost itself in a thick 
 moustache. He had taken oft his 
 helm and his cuirass, and wore 
 only a jerkin ol Hungarian leather, 
 stained b)- the friction of his 
 armour, and careiully patched in 
 divers places. His sabre and 
 his pistols la)- on a 
 l)ench within reach ; but 
 he kept his large dagger, 
 a weapon which no pru- 
 dent man then discarded 
 till he went to bed. At his 
 lelt sat a young man, bright- 
 comple.xioned, tall, and well-made 
 enough. His doublet was em- 
 broideretl, and the whole of his 
 dress was more careiul than the captain's. He was, 
 however, only a cornet. 
 
 Two girls of some twent\- or twenty-hve years kept them 
 company at table. Their garments, evidently not made 
 for them, and gaincxl 1j}' chance of war, showetl a mixture of
 
 THE RE ITERS. 17 
 
 shabbiness and luxur)'. ( )nc was dressed in a kind of bodice 
 of damask brocaded with gold, but this bodice was tarnished, 
 and completed only by a skirt ot plain cloth. The other 
 had a gown of violet velvet, and a man's hat ot ij^rey felt 
 adorned with a cock's feather. Hoth were pretty ; but their 
 bold glances and free talk showed the results of their 
 association with soldiers. The functions which they left 
 Germany to discharge were a little uncertain. \'elvet-gown 
 was a gipsy : she could tell fortunes with cards and play the 
 mandolin. The other had some knowledge of leech-craft, 
 and appeared to be high in the cornet's good graces. The; 
 quartet, each with a large bottle and a glass before him or 
 her, chatted and drank together while waiting for their 
 dinner. 
 
 The conversation, as was natural between very hungry 
 people, was not livelv at the moment that a young man ot 
 lofty stature and dressed with .some elegance halted his 
 good chestnut horse before the inn door. The trumpeter ot 
 the Reiters rose from a bench where he sat, and coming 
 towards the stranyer took his bridle. The stranger was 
 about to thank him for his supposed courtesy, but he was 
 soon undeceived The trumpeter opened the horse's mouth, 
 examined his teeth like an expert, and then, stepping back 
 and surveying the noble animal's legs and croup, shook his 
 head with an air of satisfaction. " You have a good horse 
 between your legs, sir," he said in his jargon, and added in 
 German certain words which made his comrades laugh as 
 he returned and took his seat among them. 
 
 This cool examination did not please the traveller ; but 
 he contented himself with a contemptuous glance at the 
 trumpeter, and dismounted without the aid of anyone. 
 The host, however, who was just stepping out, took the 
 
 fc.
 
 1 8 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 bridle from his hands respectfully, and whispered suffi- 
 ciently low for the Reiters not to hear, " God be your 
 speed, young sir, but you come at an evil chance; for the 
 company of these heretics (may St. Christopher wring 
 their necks!) is not agreeable to good Christians like you 
 and me." 
 
 The young man smiled bitterly. " Are these gentlemen," 
 said he, " Protestant troopers ? " 
 
 " Yes, and Reiters as well," quoth the host. " Our Lady 
 confound them ! they have been here but an hour, and they 
 have broken half my gear. They are all jiitiless plun- 
 derers, like that devil's Admiral, their fine chief M. de 
 Chatillon." 
 
 " For a greybeard," answered the young man, "you are 
 not prudent. If perchance he to whom you spoke were a 
 Protestant, he might give you a broken head for an answer." 
 And he slashed his white leather boot with his horsewhip 
 as he spoke. 
 
 " How ? what? You a Huguenot— a Protestant, I mean !" 
 cried the astounded host. He stepped back and stared 
 at the stranger from head to foot, as if to discover in his 
 dress some symptom of his religion. This scrutiny and the 
 open laughing countenance of the young man reassured him 
 a little, and he began again in a lower tone, " A Protestant 
 with a green velvet coat ! A Huguenot with a Spanish 
 ruff! Impossible, my good young lord. Heretics go not 
 so brave. St. Mary ! a velvet doublet is too fine for the 
 dirty varlets." 
 
 The whip whistled through the air at once, and striking 
 the poor Boniface across the cheek, gave him as it were his 
 ofuest's confession of faith. 
 
 " Here, insolent chatterer, is something to teach you to
 
 THr. RFJTERS. 
 
 "9 
 
 keep your tongue in order. Come, lake my horse to 
 the stable, and see tliat he lacks naught." 
 
 The innkeeper hung his heail 
 sadly, and led the horse under 
 a kind of shed, muttering 
 a thousand curses against 
 
 heretics, German ami French ■ 
 
 alike ; and had not the Vf'nn^' \ " ^%r 
 
 man followed him to see how 
 his horse was 
 
 
 treated, the 
 
 poor beast wouk 
 
 no d()ul)t have been 
 
 docked of his supper as a 
 
 misbeliever. 
 
 The stranger next entered 
 the kitchen and greeted the persons there assembled, lifting 
 gracefully the flap of his large hat, which was crowned 
 
 D
 
 2 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 with a black and yellow plume. The captain returned his 
 salute, and both looked at each other for some time without 
 speaking-. 
 
 " Captain," said the young stranger at last, " I am a Pro- 
 testant gentleman, and rejoice to meet some of my brethren 
 in religion. If you please, we will sup together." 
 
 The captain, favourably impressed already by the distin- 
 guished mien and elegant dress of the stranger, answered 
 that he was much honoured. And forthwith Mademoiselle 
 Mila, the gipsy girl of whom we have spoken, made room 
 for the stranger on the bench beside her ; and being of a 
 very obliging disposition, gave him her own glass, which the 
 captain promptly filled. 
 
 " My name is Dietrich Hornstein," said he, as he 
 clinked glasses with the yoLuig man. " Vou have doubtless 
 heard of Captain Dietrich Hornstein. 'Twas I led the 
 forldrn hopi- at the battle of Dreux, and at Arnay-le-Duc 
 afterwards." 
 
 The stranger understood this indirect way of asking him 
 his own name, and answered, " I am sorry, captain, that I 
 cannot give you a name as famous as your own — as famous, 
 that is to say, on my own account, for my father's has made 
 noise enough in our civil wars. Men call me Bernard de 
 Mergy." 
 
 " You tell the name to the right ears," cried the captain, 
 filling his glass to the brim. " I knew your father, M. Ber- 
 nard de Mergy. I have known him since the first civil 
 war as one knows an intimate friend. His health. Master 
 I-Sernard." 
 
 The captain hekl out his glass and said a few words in 
 German to the troopers, who at the moment the wine 
 touched his liijs threw their hats in the air with a shout.
 
 THE RE ITERS. 21 
 
 The host, who took this for a signal of massacre, fell on his 
 knees ; and Bernard himself was a little surprised at the 
 exceptional honour. liut he ihoui^ht it his duty not to be 
 behind this German politeness, and gave the captain's 
 health. The bottles, already stoutly attacked before his 
 arrival, could not hold out at this fresh toast. 
 
 " Get up, hypocrite," said the captain, turning to the still 
 kneeling host; "get up, and fetch us wine. See you not 
 that the bottles are empty ?" And the cornet, to prove the 
 fact, threw one of them at the head of the host, who ran to 
 the cellar. 
 
 " 'Tis an insolent rascal, " said Mergy ; " but you might 
 have done him more harm than you meant if that bottle had 
 gone straight." 
 
 "Bah!" said the cornet with a loud laugh; and Mila 
 added, " A Papist's head, though it be emptier than that 
 bottle, is also harder ; " whereat the cornet laughed yet louder, 
 and was imitated by all the company, even by Mergy, 
 whose smile, however, was rather for the gipsy's pretty 
 mouth than for her cruel jest. They brought the wine, 
 the supper followed, and after a moment's silence the captain 
 beean ag-ain with his mouth full : 
 
 " I should think I did know M. de Mergy. He was 
 colonel of infantry when the prince made his first attempt. 
 We had the same quarters for two months running at the 
 first siecre of Orleans. And how is he now ?" 
 
 "Well enough, thank God, seeing his great age. He has 
 talked to me often enough of the Reiters and the gallant 
 charges they made at Dreux." 
 
 " I knew his elder son, too, your brother, Captain George. 
 1 mean before " 
 
 Mergy seemed embarrassed, but the captain went on —
 
 2 2 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " He was as brave as steel, but hotheaded enough, plague 
 on it! I am sorry for your father; the apostasy must have 
 grieved him much." 
 
 Mergy blushed up to his eyes, and stammered some 
 words of excuse for his brother ; but it was clear that he 
 judged him even more severely than the captain of Reiters. 
 
 " Ah, I see you are vexed," said the captain ; " let us drop 
 the subject. He was a loss for the religion and a gain for 
 the King, who they say pays him much honour." 
 
 " You come from Paris," said Mergy, seeking to change 
 the conversation ; " has the Admiral arrived ? You have 
 doubtle.ss seen him. How goes it with him ? ' 
 
 " He was just arriving with the Court from Blois as we 
 left. He is wonderfully well, fresh, and lively ; and is good 
 for twenty civil wars yet, honest man. His Majesty pays 
 him so much attention that the Papists are bursting with 
 envy." 
 
 " Really ? But the King can never do him honour equal 
 to his merit." 
 
 " Look you. I saw the King yesterday on the Louvre 
 staircase clasping the Admiral's hand. AL de Guise, who 
 came behind, looked like a whipped hound. And what do 
 you think I thought? It looked to me like the man who 
 shows off the lion at a fair. He makes him give paw like a 
 dog ; but though Jack Lion-tamer keeps a brave face on it, 
 he never forgets the claws of the paw he holds. Yes, by 
 my beard, a man might say the King felt the Admiral's 
 claws." 
 
 " The Admiral has a long arm," said the cornet, repeating 
 a catchword of the Protestant army. 
 
 " He is a handsome man tor his years," observed INLide- 
 moiselle Mila.
 
 THE REITERS. 23 
 
 " I would rather have him for lover than a young Papist," 
 retorted Mademoiselle Trudchen, the cornet's friend. 
 
 " He is a pillar of the faith," (juoth Mergy, not wishing to 
 be behindhand in praise. 
 
 " Yes, but he is devilishly strict on the point of disci- 
 pline," said the captain with a shake of the head. The 
 cornet winked meaningly, and his fat face crumpled itself up 
 in a grimace which he meant for a smile. 
 
 " 1 did not expect," said Mergy, " to hear an old soldier 
 like you, captain, blame the Admiral for keeping strict disci- 
 pline in his army." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course we must have discipline; but still 
 soldiers ought to have credit for all the sufferings they go 
 through, and not be forbidden to enjoy themselves when 
 fortune gives them the chance. But bah ! every man has 
 his faults, and though he did hang me, let us drink the 
 Admiral's health." 
 
 " The Admiral hanged you!" cried Mergy. " You seem 
 to be in very good case for a hanged man " * 
 
 " Yes, sacrament ! He hanged me, but I bear no malice, 
 so here's to him." 
 
 Before Mergy could repeat his question the captain 
 filled all the glasses, took off his hat, and made his troopers 
 give a "Hip! hip! hurrah!" The glasses empty and the 
 noise quieted, Mergy began again : 
 
 " Why did they hang you, captain .■"" 
 
 " For a mere trifle ; a miserable convent in Saintonge 
 that was sacked, and then burnt by accident." 
 
 " But the monks had not all got out of it," interrupted the 
 cornet, roaring with laughter at his own wit. 
 
 " Well, what does it matter whether such rascals burn a 
 little sooner or a little later.'' Yet the Admiral, would \o\\
 
 24 CHROX/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 believe it, M. de Mergy, but the Admiral got seriously angry, 
 had me arrested, and the provost-marshal marked me for 
 his own in the most unceremonious manner. Then all 
 the g-entlemen and noblemen of his followino;, even M. de 
 Lanoue, who, as all men know, has no bowels for the poor 
 soldier (' the knot | /a none] ties and does not untie,' as they 
 say), all the captains, in short, begged for my pardon, but he 
 gave them a flat refusal. J'^cnirc dc loiip ! what a rage he 
 was in ! He chewed his toothpick with fury ; and you know 
 the proverb, ' God keep us from M. de Montmorency's 
 prayers and the Admiral's toothpick.' ' God pardon me,' 
 quoth he, 'we must kill Madam IMunder when she is a little 
 girl ; if we let her grow a great lady she will kill us.' So 
 there comes me the minister, book underarm, and they take 
 the pair of us beneath a certain oak tree. I can see it now, 
 with a branch sticking out tliat seemed to have grown on 
 purpose. The}' put the cord round my neck — and when I 
 think of that cord my throat grows dry as tinder." 
 
 "Wet it then," quoth Mila, and she hlled him a bumper. 
 He drained it at a gulp, and went on : 
 
 " I set my life just at an acorn's fee, and no more, 
 when It occurred to me to say to the Admiral, ' Eh, Mon- 
 seigneur, is this the way you hang a man who led the forlorn 
 hope at Dreu.x?' He spat out his toothpick and took 
 another, which I said to myself was a good sign. Then he 
 called Captain Cormier, and whispered in his ear : then he 
 said to the provost, ' Come, up with the fellow ! ' and turned 
 on his heel. They ran me up, sure enough ; but Cormier, 
 like a good fellow, drew sword and slashed the rope, so that 
 I fell from my branch as red as a boiled crajfish." 
 
 " 1 congratulate you," said Mergy, " on having escaped so 
 cheaply." But he looked at the captain curiously, and seemed
 
 THE REIVERS. 25 
 
 a little disturbed at finding hiinsell in company with a man 
 who had earned the gallows. In these unlucky times, how- 
 ever, crime was so common that it was impossible to judge 
 it as one would do nowadays. Party atrocities justified 
 reprisal, and religious hatred almost smothered all national 
 sentiment. Besides, to tell the truth, the secret provocations 
 of Mademoiselle Mila, whom he began to think very pretty 
 indeed, and the fumes of the wine, which had more {jower 
 over his young head than over the seasoned brains of the 
 Reiters, joined in making him feel unusually indulgent 
 towards his companions. 
 
 " I kept the captain hidden in a tilted cart for a week," 
 said Mila, "and only let him out at night-time." 
 
 " And I," said Trudchen, " I brought him food and drink. 
 He is there to say so." 
 
 " The Admiral pretended to be very wroth with Cormier, 
 but all that was only a game arranged between them. As 
 for me, I followed the army long, not daring to show myself 
 to him, till, at the siege of Longnac, he spied me in the 
 trenches, and said, ' Dietrich, my friend, as you have not 
 been hanged, go and get shot,' and he pointed to the breach. 
 I knew what he meant well enough, went stoutly to the 
 assault, and met him next da)- in the street with my hat in 
 my hand and a bullet-hole through my hat. ' Monseigneur,' 
 said I, 'shooting has the same effect on me as hanging.' So 
 he smiled and gave me his purse, saying, ' There is a new 
 hat for you.' Since which time we have always been good 
 friends. Ah, what a sack that was at the said town of 
 Longnac ! My mouth waters at the mere thought of it." 
 
 "Such silk dresses!" cried Mila. 
 
 "Such plenty of lovely linen !" cried Trudchen. 
 
 " What a time we had with the nuns of the great
 
 26 CHROXICLES OF CHARf.ES IX. 
 
 convent!" said the cornet. "Two hundred horse-arque- 
 busiers quartered on a hundred nuns!" 
 
 " More than twenty of them abjured Popery," said Mila, 
 " they found the Huguenots so much to their taste." 
 
 " 'Twas tlierc. too," cried the captain, "that 'twas pretty 
 to see our aro^onlcts^ watering their horses with [)riests' 
 chasubles on their bactcs, our liorses eating their oats off the 
 altar, and ourselves drinking the priests' good wine in their 
 silver chalices ! " 
 
 He turned his head to call for drink, and caught the host 
 clasping his hands and lifting his eyes to heaven with an 
 expression of unspeakable horror. 
 
 "Idiot! "said the tfallant Dietrich Hornstein, shrui^o-ino; 
 his shoulders ; " how can a man be such a fool as to believe 
 all the nonsense that Popish priests talk ? Why, M. de 
 Mergy, at Montcontour I killed one of the Duke of Anjou's 
 gentlemen with a pistol-shot, and when 1 pulled off his 
 doublet, what do )(>u think I found on his breast? — a 
 great piece of silk embroidered all over with .saints' 
 names ; he thought it would keep oft the balls. By Jove ! 
 I taught him that a Protestant bullet will go through any 
 scapulary." 
 
 "Yes, through scapularies," said the cornet ; "but in my 
 country they sell parchments which really keep \ou from 
 shot and sword." 
 
 " I would rather have a good steel cuirass, well hammered, 
 like those that Jacob Leschot makes in the Netherlands," 
 said Merg\-. 
 
 "Ah, but listen," continued the captain ; " no doubt it is 
 possible to be made ball-proof. I myself saw at Dreu.x a 
 
 ' Pioneers, light troops.
 
 rUR REITEKS. 
 
 gentleman hit by an ar(iuebuss ball right in the centre of the 
 chest; he knew the recei])t of ball-proof ointment, and had 
 rubbed himself under his buff coat with it; well, there was 
 not even the red and black mark of a bruise to be seen on 
 him." 
 
 "And do not you tliink that the 
 buff coat }'ou speak ot was 
 enough to turn the 'shot by 
 itself?" 
 
 "Ah, you be- 
 lieve in nothing, 
 youFrenchmen. 
 But what would 
 you say if you 
 had seen, as I 
 have, a Silesian 
 gendarme put 
 his hand on the 
 table and the 
 whole company 
 try in vain to 
 make a wound 
 in it with the 
 full force of their 
 daggers ? You 
 think it impossible. Ask Mila, 
 then. You see that young 
 woman ? She comes from a country where wizards are as 
 common as monks here. She is the girl to tell you horrible 
 stories of them. Sometimes in the long autumn evenings, 
 round the camp-fire in the open air, she makes my hair 
 stand on end with her legends." 
 
 E
 
 28 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 " I should be charmed to hear one," said Mergy. " Do me 
 that pleasure, fair Mila." 
 
 " Yes, Mila," added the captain, " tell us a story while we 
 finish these bottles." 
 
 " Listen then," said Mila ; " and you, young sir, who believe 
 in nothing, will be good enough, if you please, to keep your 
 doubts to yourself" 
 
 " How can you say that I believe in nothing ? " said 
 Mergy in a low voice ; " fLiith, I believe you have bewitched 
 me already, for I am head-overears in love with you." 
 
 Mila pushed him gently back, for his lips nearly touched 
 her cheek ; and after glancing slyly right and left to see 
 that all were listening, she thus began : 
 
 " Captain, of course you have been at Hamelin ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Nor you, cornet ? " 
 
 " Nor I." 
 
 " What ! can I find no one w-ho has been at Hamelin ? " 
 
 " I spent a year there," said a trooper, coming iorward. 
 
 " Well, Fritz, you saw the church ? " 
 
 " Hundreds of times." 
 
 " And its stained-glass windows ? 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 '• And what did you see painted there ? " 
 
 " On the windows ? To the left, I think, there is a tall 
 black man who plays the flute, and little children running 
 after him." 
 
 " lust so. Well, I am "oiny to tell vou the storv of that 
 black man and those children. 
 
 " Many years ago the people of Hamelin were tormented 
 by an innumcral^le multitude of rats, who came from the 
 north in swarms so thick that the earth was black with
 
 THE RE ITEMS. 29 
 
 them, and that a carter would not have dared to drive his 
 horses across a road where the beasts were passing. Every- 
 thing was devoured in a moment ; and it took less time for 
 the rats to eat a barrel of corn in a barn than it takes me to 
 drink a Mass of this sjood wine." 
 
 She drank, wiped her mouth, and went on. 
 
 " Mouse-traps, rat-traps, snares, poison, all were useless. 
 They brought a boat-load of eleven hundred cats from 
 Bremen, but it did no good at all. For each thousand rats 
 killed ten thousand appeared, hungrier than the first. In 
 short, if the plague had not been stayed, not a grain of corn 
 would have remained in Hamelln town, and all the dwellers 
 therein must have died of huncrer. 
 
 " Now on a certain Friday there came before the burgo- 
 master a tall man, swarthy and parched of aspect, with large 
 eyes, and a mouth from ear to ear. He was dressed in a red 
 jerkin, a pointed hat, wide breeches trimmed with ribbons, 
 grey stockings, and shoes with flame-coloured rosettes. 
 He had a little leather wallet slung at his side. I think I 
 see him now." 
 
 All eyes turned involuntarily to the wall at which Mila 
 was staring. 
 
 " Vou saw him then .•* " asked Mergy. 
 
 " No, not 1, 'twas my grandmother, and she remem- 
 bered him so well that she could have drawn his portrait." 
 
 " And what said he to the burgomaster ? " 
 
 "He offered, for a fee of a hundred ducats, to deliver the 
 city from its scourge; and, as you may think, the burgomaster 
 and the citizens said ' Done ' at once. Forthwith the stranger 
 drew from his wallet a flute of bronze, and taking up his 
 station in the market-place in front of the church (but with 
 his back to it, mind), he began to play an air so strange that
 
 30 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 no German flute-player has ever played the like. And as 
 they heard this air, there flocked around him from garret 
 and rat-hole, from rafter and tile, rats and mice by hundreds 
 and thousands. And the stranger, piping still, bent his way 
 to the river Weser, and there, stripping off his hose, he went 
 into the water followed by all the rats of Hamelin, who were 
 drowned straightway. But one remained in all the city, and 
 you shall hear wherefore. The magician (tor such he was) 
 asked a laggard rat who had not )'et got into the water why 
 Klaus, the white rat, had not come. ' My lord,' said the 
 rat, ' he is so old that he cannot walk.' ' Go and fetch him 
 )'Ourself,' said the magician ; and the rat turned tail, and 
 went to the town, whence he came back quickly with a great 
 old, old, white rat, so old that he could not drag himself 
 along ; and the two rats, the young one dragging the old 
 by the tail, both plunged in the Weser, and were drowned 
 like their fellows. And so the town was cleared. But when 
 the stranger appeared at the town-hall to draw the promised 
 recompense, the burgomaster and the citizens, remembering 
 that they had nothing more to fear from the rats, and think- 
 ing that they could make short work of a friendless man, were 
 not ashamed to ofier him ten ducats instead of the hundred 
 that they had promised. The stranger protested ; they gave 
 him a flat refused. He threatened them that he would 
 exact a far higher price if they did not carry out their 
 bargain. The citizens burst out laucdiinCT at the threat, and 
 showed him the door, calling him a ' fine rat-catcher,' which 
 insult the children of the town repeated as they followed 
 him up the streets to the New Gate. Ne.xt Friday at noon- 
 day the stranger reappeared on the market-place, but this 
 time with a purple hat, cocked in a singular fashion. He 
 drew from his wallet a flute (piite difterent from the other,
 
 THE RE ITERS. 
 
 31 
 
 and as soon as he had begun to phiy all the bo)-s of the city 
 fnim six years old to fifteen followed him out of the town 
 precincts." » 
 
 " And did the men of Hamelin let them be carried off 
 quietly ?" asked Mergy and the captain together. 
 
 "They followed them to Koppenberg Hill, close to a 
 cavern which is nt)w stopped up. 
 The Hute-player entered the cave 
 and all the children with him. I'"or 
 a time they heard the sound of the 
 flute ; little by little it died away ; 
 then they heard nothing. 
 The children had vanished, 
 and never after- ir. ,,.«S 
 
 wards was aught 
 heard of them." 
 
 The gipsy stop- 
 ped to watch the 
 effect of her story 
 on the countenances of 
 her hearers ; but the 
 Reiter who had been at 
 Hamelin took up her words and 
 said, " The story is so true, that when they speak at Hamelin 
 of anything out of the way, they say, 'That happened ten 
 or twenty years aft^r our children departed ; ' for instance, 
 ' The lord of Falkenstein sacked the town sixty years after 
 our children departed.' " 
 
 " But the strangest thing of all," said Rlila, " is that at the 
 very same time there appeared, far off in Transylvania, cer- 
 tain children who spoke good German, and who could not tell 
 from whence they came. They married in the country, and
 
 32 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 taught their tongue to their own offspring, whence it comes 
 that, at this day, men speak German in Transylvania." 
 
 " And those were the Haniehn children, transported 
 thither by the devil ? " said Mergy, smiling. 
 
 " By heaven 'tis true," said the captain, "for I have been 
 in Transylvania myself, and I know that they talk German 
 while all round men jabber an infernal jargon." And, indeed, 
 there is plenty of evidence produced every day which is not 
 a whit better than the captain's. 
 
 " Shall I tell you your fortune ? " said Mila to Mergy. 
 
 " By all means," said he, putting his left arm round the 
 gipsy's waist, while he held out his right palm. 
 
 Mila looked at it for nearly five minutes without speaking, 
 but shaking her head now and then with a thoughtful air. 
 
 " Well, pretty child, shall I win the woman I love ? " 
 
 Mila tapped his hand. " Here is luck and ill luck," c|uoth 
 she ; " blue eyes bring harm and good. The worst of it is, 
 you will shed your own blood." 
 
 The captain and the cornet both held their tongues, seem- 
 ing to be equally struck with the sinister ending of the 
 prophecy ; and the host crossed himself vigorously in the 
 corner. 
 
 " I will believe you are really a witch," said Mergy, " if you 
 can tell me what 1 am going to do directly ? " 
 
 " You are going to kiss me," whispered the gipsy in his 
 ear. 
 
 "She is a witch," cried Mergy, kissing her. And he 
 continued to talk low to the fair fortune-teller, while they 
 seemed to get on better and better together each moment. 
 
 Trudchen took up a kind of mandolin, reasonably well 
 provided with strings, and played a German march as over- 
 ture. Then when a ring of soldiers had gathered round her
 
 THE REITERS. 33 
 
 she sang in her own tongue a war song which the Reiters 
 chorussed at the top of their voices. But the captain, not 
 to be outdone, began to sing too, at a ])itch loud enough to 
 break the glasses, an old Huguenot song, of which the tune 
 was as barbarous as the words : 
 
 " Condti he is dead, 
 But the Adtniral's at our head, 
 And La Rochefoucauld so stout, 
 To drive the Papists out — 
 
 Out, out, out. " ' 
 
 Whereat all the Reiters, heated with wine, began to sing 
 each a different air. The dishes and the bottles covered 
 the floor in fragments ; the kitchen echoed with oaths, 
 shouts of laughter, and drinking songs. But soon sleep, 
 helped by the Orleans wine, madg his power felt by 
 most ot the actors in this scene of riot. The soldiers 
 stretched themselves on the benches ; the cornet, after 
 posting two sentinels at the door, staggered to bed ; the 
 captain, who still preserved a respect for straight lines, 
 climbed, without a lurch, the staircase leading to the host's 
 chamber, which he had chosen as the best in the inn. 
 
 But what had become of Mergy and the gipsy ? Before 
 the captain began to sing they had disappeared together. 
 
 ' [Literally, " The Prince of Conde, He has been killed; But I\L rAmiral 
 Is still on horseback, With La Rochefoucauld, To hunt all the papists, 
 Papists, papists, papists ! "] — Tniiis/ah>rs note.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IllK MCJRROW OF A REVKI.. 
 
 " Chainiinu. I say I will have my money inslanUy." 
 
 MonfeRE, Les Prkieuscs Ridicules. 
 
 DAY had long dawned when Mergy woke, his head 
 still something flustered with the memories of the 
 night before. His clothes lay scattered about the chamber, 
 and his portmanteau was open on the floor. Sitting up in 
 bed, he gazed for some time at this scene of confusion, 
 rubbino; his head as if to "et his ideas into order. His 
 countenance expressed at once weariness, astonishment, and 
 anxiety. 
 
 INIeanwhile, a heavy step was heard on the stone stair 
 
 F
 
 36 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 that led to the room. The door was opened without the 
 formahty of a knock, and the host entered with an air even 
 sulkier than that of yesterday ; but now his looks plainly 
 showed a touch of insolence wliich had taken the place ot 
 fear. He glanced round the room, and crossed himself as if 
 horrified at such disorder. 
 
 " Ah ! my young sir," he said, " still abed .'* Come, get up, 
 for there are accounts to settle between us." 
 
 Mergy, with an appalling yawn, put one leg out of bed. 
 " What is all this muddle ? Why is my portmanteau open ?" 
 he asked in a tone at least as ill-tempered as the host's. 
 
 "Why? Why?" answered he. "How do I know? 
 What do 1 care for your portmanteau ? You have put my 
 house in far worse plight. But by my blessed patron .Saint 
 Eustace you shall pay me ior it." 
 
 As he spoke, Mergy drew on his scarlet breeches, and in 
 the motion his pocket gaped, and his purse fell out. The 
 sound must have been different from that which he expected, 
 for he picked it up at once anxiously and opened it. 
 
 •' I have been robbed ! " he cried, turning to the host. For 
 instead of twenty gold crowns which his purse had held, 
 there were but two. But Master Eustace shruoo-ed his 
 shoulders and smiled contemptuously. 
 
 " I have been robbed ! " repeated Merg}', hastily buckling 
 his belt. " I had twenty gold crowns in this purse, and I 
 insist on having them back. 'Twas in your house they were 
 taken from me." 
 
 " By my beard I am glad of it," cried the host insolently ; 
 " that will teach you to foregather with witches and thieves. 
 But," added he in a lower tone, " like draws to like. All 
 these gallow-birds of a feather — heretics, sorcerers, and 
 thieves— flock together."
 
 THE MORROW OF A REVEL. 37 
 
 "What do you say, scoundrel ?" cried Meroy, all the more 
 angry that he felt the justice of the reproach, and, as a man 
 usually does when he is in the wrong, caught eagerly at a 
 cause of quarrel. 
 
 " I say," said the host, with arms akimbo and uplifted 
 voice, — " I say that you have broken everything in ni\- 
 house, and 1 insist that )ou shall pay me to the last penny." 
 
 " I will paj- my score, and not a farthing over. Where is 
 Captain Corn — Captain Hornstein ?" 
 
 " Two hundred bottles," cried Master Eustace, still rais- 
 ing his voice, — " two hundred bottles of my good old wine 
 have been drunk. But you are answerable for them." 
 
 Mergy was now completely dressed. 
 
 "Where is the captain ? " he cried in a voice of thundir. 
 
 " He has been gone more than two hours : and ma\- he 
 ofo to the devil with all the other Hugruenots — till we can 
 find time to burn them. ' 
 
 \ sound box on the ear was the only answer that occurretl 
 to Mersjv; and the suddenness and force of the blow made 
 the host fall back two steps. His grasp sought the horn 
 handle of a great knife which protruded from his breeches 
 pocket, and had he yielded to this first motion of wrath, 
 some serious mischief would no doubt have happened. But 
 prudence arrested anger, and made him notice that Mergy 
 was stretchinof out his own hand to the bed-head where hune 
 a long rapier. So he gave up the unequal contest, and 
 hurried downstairs )elling " Murder ! Fire ! " 
 
 In possession of the field of battle, but e.xceedingly 
 anxious as to what woidd come after the victory, Mergy 
 finished buckling on his belt, stuck his pistols therein, shut 
 his portmanteau, and, holding it in his hand, resolved to 
 lodge his complaint with the nearest magistrate. He
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 opened the door, and was setting foot 
 on the topmost stair, when a troop of 
 enemies suddenly pre- 
 sented itself. 
 
 The host led the way, 
 an old halberd in hand ; 
 three scullions, armed 
 with spits and 
 '5^t^^fJ^^ sticks, followed 
 hard ; a neigh- 
 bour with a rusty 
 arquebuss brought 
 up the rear. On both 
 sides the meeting 
 was a suri)rise ; for 
 only five or six steps 
 separated the foes. 
 
 Mergy dropped his 
 portmanteau at once 
 and drew a pistol, 
 which hostile man- 
 oeuvre showed Master 
 
 I'l'i//'^^ 
 
 ''''/'>
 
 THE MORROW OF A REVEL. 39 
 
 Eustace and his suite liow faulty their order of battle was. 
 Like the Persians at tlie l)attle of Salamis, they had for- 
 gotten to take up a position where their numbers could 
 deploy with advantage. The only one of them who carried 
 firearms could not use them without endana-ering: his com- 
 panions in front, while the Huguenot's pistols, enfilading 
 the staircase, seemed likely to knock them all over. They 
 heard the click of the pistol as Mergy cocked it, and an 
 actual detonation could not have frightened them more. 
 With one accord the hostile column turned tail and fled, to 
 seek in the kitchen a roomier and more advantatjeous battle- 
 field. In the disorder which inevitably accompanies a hur- 
 ried retreat, the host, wishing to shift his halberd, entangled 
 it in his legs and fell. Like a generous foe, disdaining to 
 make use of his actual weapons, Mergy contented himself 
 with hurling his portmanteau at the enemy, and this, falling 
 like a mass of rock, and moving faster as it fell from stair 
 to stair, finished the rout. The staircase remained clear of 
 foes, with the broken halberd as a trophy. 
 
 Mergy at once made for the kitchen, where the foe had 
 re-formed in a single line. The arquebusier had his weapon 
 in position, and was blowing his lighted match. The host, 
 covered with blood (for his nose had been badly bruised in 
 the fall), remained behind his friends, like the wounded 
 Menelaus behind the Grecian ranks ; while, in default of 
 Machaon or Podalirius, his wife, with dishevelled hair and 
 coif unbound, staunched his face with a dirty napkin. There 
 was no hesitation in Mergy s conduct. He walked straight 
 up to the man with the arejuebuss and held the muzzle of a 
 pistol to his breast. 
 
 " Drop your match, or you die !" he said. 
 
 The match fell to earth, and Mergy, setting his foot on
 
 40 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 the lighted end, extinguished it; whereupon all the allies at 
 once threw down their arms. 
 
 "As for you," said Mergy to the innkeeper, " the small 
 lesson I have given you will no doubt teach you to treat 
 strangers more politely. If I chose I could have your 
 licence withdrawn by the bailiff here; but I bear no malice. 
 Come, what do I owe you for my own score ?" 
 
 Master Eustace, observing that he had uncocked the 
 terrible pistol, and was as he spoke slipping it back into his 
 belt, [>lucked up a little courage, and while continuing to 
 staunch his wounds, muttered in a melancholy manner: 
 
 " You break the dishes, you beat people, you break good 
 Christian noses, you make hell's own riot. After that, I do 
 not see how you can make it up to an honest man. " 
 
 " Come," went on Mergy smiling, " I will pay )ou for 
 your nose at my valuation of it. As for your broken 
 crockery, you must go to the Reitcrs for that ; it is their 
 business. And now what do I owe you for my supper 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 The host looked at his wife, his scullions, and his neigh- 
 bour, as if to ask at once their counsel and their help. 
 
 " The Reiters ! the Reiters!" said he. " A man does not 
 easily see the colour ot their money. The captain gave me 
 three livres and the cornet a kick." 
 
 Mergy took out one of the two gold crowns which he had 
 left. " Come," said he, "we will part good friends." Antl 
 he threw it to Master Eustace, who, instead of catching it, 
 scornfully let it fall on the Boor. 
 
 "A crown!" he cried. "A crown for a hundred broken 
 bottles ! A crown for sacking a house and beating its 
 people !" 
 
 "A crown — only a crown!" chimed in his wife in an
 
 THE MORROW OF A REVEL. 41 
 
 equally mournful tone. "Catholic gentlemen come here 
 sometimes and make a disturbance, but at least they know 
 the value of things." 
 
 Had Mergy been more in funds he would no doubt have 
 kept up his party's reputation for free-handedness. As it 
 was, he replied drily, " Very like ; but these Catholic gen- 
 tlemen have not been robbed. Make up your minds," he 
 added ; " take the crown or you will have nothing," and he 
 made a step forward as if to pick it up. The hostess seized 
 it instantly. " Come, bring me my horse ; and you. fellow, 
 drop that spit and carry my portmanteau." 
 
 "Your horse, sir?" said one of Master Eustace's men, 
 making a face. But the host himself lifted his head in 
 spite of his vexation, and his eyes sparkled with spiteful 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! 1 will bring him myself, my good lord ; I will 
 bring you your good horse." And he went out with the 
 napkin still pressed to his face, while Mergy followed. 
 
 You may guess his surprise when he saw in the place ot 
 the bonny chestnut steed which had carried him thither a 
 little old broken-kneed piebald, whose appearance was still 
 further improved by a great .scar on the head ; while 
 instead of his saddle of fine Flanders velvet he beheld a 
 leathern troop-saddle mounted with iron. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" he cried. " Where is my 
 horse ? " 
 
 " Your lordship must go and ask the Protestant Reiter 
 gentlemen that," said the host with feigned humility. " The 
 worthy strangers carried him off with them, no doubt mis- 
 taking the two, as they were so like one another." 
 
 " 'Tis a fine horse," said a scullion ; " I would bet he is 
 not more than a twenty-year-old."
 
 42 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " No one can say he is no charger," quoth another ; " look 
 at the sword-wound on his forehead." 
 
 "His coat stares finely," said a third ; " 'tis hke a minister's, 
 black and white." 
 
 Mergy went into the stable, which was quite empty. 
 
 ''And why did you let them take my horse ?" he cried in 
 a fury. 
 
 " By'r Lady, fair sir," said the stableman, " the trumpeter 
 took him away, and told me that you had arranged to 
 exchange him." 
 
 Mergy, choking with rage, and not knowing what to be at 
 in this accumulation of misfortunes, muttered between his 
 teeth, " I will find the captain, and he shall do me justice on 
 this rascal thiet." 
 
 To which the host replied, " Your lordship will do well ; 
 for this Captain what'sdiis-name looked like a very honest 
 fellow." (Now Mergy had himself been thinking that the 
 captain, if he had not ordered the theft, must have winked 
 at it.) " And," added the host, " you can get back your gold 
 crowns from the young lady at the same time. She must 
 have made a mistake, no doubt, in packing up her things by 
 owl's light." 
 
 " Shall I fasten your lordship's portmanteau on your 
 lordship's horse?" said the ostler, with the most intolerable 
 air of mock respect. 
 
 Mergy understood that the longer he stayed the more of 
 these rascals' jests he should have to endure, so as soon as 
 the portmanteau was fastened on, he jumped into his 
 awkward saddle; but the horse, feeling that he had a new 
 master, conceived a malicious desire to find out whether 
 his new master could ride. He was not long, however, in 
 discoverintr that he had to do with a skilful horseman, in
 
 THE MORROW OF A RF.VEL. 43 
 
 less temper tliaii usual to stand any nonsense, and so, after 
 lashing out a little, and being well rewarded by the digging 
 in of some exceedingly sharp spurs, he wisely made up his 
 mind to submit, and broke into a steady trot. But lie had 
 used up some of his strength in the fight with his rider; 
 and, as usually happens to jades in such a case, he fell, 
 stumbling, as they say, with all four feet at once. Our 
 hero picked himself up cjuickly, a little bruised, but mucii 
 more angry at the jeers which were raised behind him. 1 le 
 even hesitated for a moment whether he should go and take 
 vengeance with the flat of his sword ; but on reflection he 
 contented himself with making as though he had not heard 
 the distant insults, and took at a slower pace the Orleans 
 road, pursued for a time by troops of children, the elders 
 singing the ballad of "Jehan Petaquin,"' while the little ones 
 cried at the top of their voices, " Faggots ! faggots for tiie 
 Huguenot!" 
 
 After riding in sufficiently bad spirits for half a league or 
 so he reflected that he would not be likely to catch up the 
 Reiters that da)- ; that his horse was probably by this time 
 sold ; that at any rate it was scarcely doubtful that these 
 gentry would not give him up. Little by litde Mergy 
 made up his mind to the loss ; and as in the case of his 
 horse beine sone for good he had nothing to do on the 
 way to Orleans, he made once more for Paris, taking a 
 cross road so as to avoid passing the unlucky inn which 
 had witnessed his disasters. Little by little, having accus- 
 tomed himself early to look upon the bright side ot things, 
 he came to the conclusion that he was on the whole fortu- 
 nate in getting off so cheaply, for he might have been 
 completely stripped, not to say nuirdered. while as it was 
 ' An absurd personage in an old folk-song.
 
 44 
 
 CHROiY/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 he had a gold crown in his pocket, almost all his clothes 
 intact, and a horse who, ugly as he was, could carry him. 
 Also, to tell the truth, the memory of the fair Mila made 
 him more than once smile. Indeed, after a few hours' ride 
 and a good breakfast, he felt positively affected by the 
 girl's scrupulous delicacy in taking only eighteen pieces 
 from a purse that held twenty. It was harder to stomach 
 the loss of his good chestnut ; but he was bound to admit that 
 a thief more hardened than the trumpeter would have taken 
 his horse without leaving him another. And so he reached 
 Paris that evening, just before the gates shut, and took u|) 
 his abode at an inn in the Rue .Saint Jacques.
 
 
 CIIA 
 
 TIIK VOUNC COLIRTIKKS 
 
 " loihimo. The ring is won. 
 
 Posthiimus. The stone's too haid to come by. 
 
 lachiiiio. Not a whit, your lady Ijcing so easy." 
 
 .SllAKF.Sl'EAKK, Cvnibcliiic. 
 
 MERGY'S object in coming- to Pari.s \va.s to obtain 
 stronfj recommendations to the Admiral Coligny, 
 and a commi.ssion in the army wliich was about, men said, 
 to fight in Flanders under that great captain's orders. He 
 hoped that certain friends of his father's, to whom he brought
 
 46 CfiRO.y/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 letters, would support his demands and would introduce 
 him to the King's Court as well as to the Admiral, who had 
 a kind of court of his own. He knew that his brother was 
 high in favour ; but he was as yet quite undecided whether 
 to seek an interview with him or not. George de Mergy's 
 apostasy had almost entirely cut him off from his relations, 
 who regarded him as a stranger — a family split which 
 religious differences made by no means uncommon at 
 the time. For a great while George's father had forbidden 
 the apostate's name to be uttered in his hearing, and had 
 justified his severity by the text. " If thy right eye offend 
 thee, pluck it out." And although young Bernard was by 
 no means of the same inflexible temper, his brother's change 
 of opinions appeared to him a stain on the family honour, 
 and his fraternal affection had naturally suftered in conse- 
 quence. 
 
 But before deciding on the course which he should take 
 as regarded his brother, and even betore presenting his 
 letters of recommendation, he thought he had better see to 
 the filling of his empty purse, and with this object set out 
 from his inn to visit a goldsmith on the Pont St. Michel, 
 who owed the family mone)'s which he was empowered to 
 claim. 
 
 At the bridge-foot he m.et some elegantly dressed young 
 men, who, walking arm-in-arm, almost entirely obstructed 
 the narrow passage left on the bridge by the throng of 
 shops and booths, which rose like two parallel walls, and 
 completely hid the view of the river from the passers-by. 
 Behind these gentlemen came their lackeys, each holding- 
 sheathed in his hands one of the long double-edged swords 
 called "duellers," and a dagger with so large a shell that it 
 could be used at need for a shield. Perhaps the weight of
 
 THE YOUNG COURTIERS. 47 
 
 these weapons was loo much for the young gentlemen, or else 
 they were pleased to show the world that the)' hatl richl)'- 
 dressed serving-men. They seemed in good humour, to 
 judge by their continual shouts of laughter. If a well- 
 dressed woman passed by, they saluted her with a mixture 
 of politeness and impertinence, while several of the mad- 
 caps amused themselves by rudely elbowing certain grave 
 citizens in black cloaks, who went off grumbling a thousand 
 curses on the insolence of the courtiers. One only of the 
 group walked with bowed head, and seemed to take no 
 share whatever in their amusements. 
 
 " Why, d e, George!" cried another, clapping him on 
 
 the shoulder, " you are getting desperately sulky. It is a 
 full quarter of an hour since you have opened your mouth. 
 Are you thinking of turning Carthusian ? " 
 
 The name " George " made Mergy start ; but he did not 
 hear what the person so addressed answered. 
 
 'T will bet a hundred pistoles," went on the first speaker, 
 " that he is still in love with some paragon of virtue. I am 
 sorry for you, my poor friend ; it is certainly bad luck to 
 find an)- mistress unkind in Paris." 
 
 " Go to Rudbeck the wizard," said another: "he will give 
 you a potion to make her love you." 
 
 " Perhaps," said a third, "our friend the captain is in 
 love with a nun. These devils of Huguenots, converted or 
 unconverted, always mean mischief to the spouses of Christ." 
 
 A voice, which Mergy knew at once, replied sadly — 
 
 " Faith ! I should not be as miserable as I am, if nothing 
 but love-matters were at stake. But," he added, dropping 
 his voice, " De Pons, to whom I gave a letter for my father, 
 has returned and tells me that he insists on having nothing 
 to do with me. '
 
 48 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Your father is a chip of the old block," said one oi the 
 young men. " He was one of the Huguenots who tried 
 Amboise." 
 
 At that moment Captain George, who had turned his 
 head, perceived Mergy, and with a cr)ot surprise and open 
 arms he sprang towards him. Mergy lost not a moment in 
 holding out his own hands, and hugged him to his breast. 
 It may be that had the meeting been less sudden, he might 
 have tried to steel himself up ; but the surprise gave nature 
 her rights. From that moment they looked on each other 
 as friends who meet after a long joiu-ne)'. 
 
 After the first embrace and the first incpiiries, Captain 
 George tiu'ned to his friends, some ot whom had stood still 
 to contemplate the jiroceeding. 
 
 "Sirs," said he, "you have been witness to this unex- 
 pected meeting. Forgive me if I leave you to entertain a 
 brother whom I liave not seen for more than seven years." 
 
 " But we do not mean you to leave us at all to-day. 
 Dinner is ordered, and you must come." And he who 
 spoke seized George at the same time by his cloak. 
 
 " Beville is right," said another ; " we will not let you go." 
 
 "Why, vtordietil" said Beville, "let your brother dine 
 with us. Instead of one good fellow, we shall have two." 
 
 " I'ardon me," thereupon said Mergy, " but I have much 
 business to do to-day ; I have letters to deliver " 
 
 " You can deliver them to-morrow." 
 
 " They must be delivered to-day. And," added Mergy, 
 smiling a little shamefacedly, " I must tell you that I am pen- 
 niless, and I must reall\" go and look tor some money " 
 
 " A pretty excuse, good faith ! " cried they all. " We 
 cannot possibly let you refuse to dine with good Christians 
 like us that vou mav eo and borrow from lews !"
 
 THE YOUXG COURTIERS. 
 
 49 
 
 "Come, my yood triciid," said P)eville, ostentatiously 
 shaking- a long silk pvirse which swung at his girdle, "look 
 upon me as your banker. The dice have dealt kindly with 
 
 me for a whole fortnight." 
 
 " Come along ; let us not waste time, but go and dine at 
 the Black Boy," said all the young men. 
 
 Captain George looked at his brother, who was still 
 uncertain. " After all, you will have plenty of time to 
 deliver your letters. As for money, 1 have some; so come 
 with us. Vou will see how we live in Paris." 
 
 Mergy allowed himself to be persuaded, and his brother 
 introduced him formally to all his friends in turn : the Baron 
 de Vaudreuil, the Chevalier dc Rheincy, the Vicomte de 
 Beville, and so on. They were prodigal of caresses to the 
 newcomer, who was obliged to embrace them all one after the 
 other. Beville was the last to exchange salutes with him. 
 
 "Oh! oh!" (luotli he. " Curse me, comrade, Ijut I smell 
 a heretic. My gold chain to a pistole that \ou are of the 
 religion." 
 
 " 'Tis true, sir ; thougli I am not as good a member uf it 
 as I ought to be." 
 
 "There! can 1 not tell a Huguenot among a thousand ? 
 / 'oitrc (ic loiip ! how serious our Methodists look when they 
 talk of their religion." 
 
 " I think one shouUl never speak jestingK' on such a sub- 
 ject." 
 
 " M. de Mergy is right," said Vaudreuil ; " and as for^'ou, 
 Beville, this ill-timed pleasantry of yours on sacred things 
 will bring'^'ou ill luck." 
 
 " There is a saint for you !" said Beville to Mergy. " He 
 is the most outrageous libertine ot us all ; and \et he gives 
 us a sermon now and then."
 
 so CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Do not make me out worse than I am, Beville," said 
 Vaudreuil. " If I am a libertine it is because I cannot subdue 
 the flesh ; but at least I respect what ought to be respected." 
 
 " For my part, I respect my mother ; she is the only 
 honest woman I have ever known. For the rest, my good 
 fellow, Catholics, Huguenots, Turks, and Jews are all the 
 same to me ; I rate their quarrels at the price of a broken 
 spur-rowel." 
 
 "Infidel!" muttered Vaudreuil; and he crossed himself 
 over the mouth, holding his handkerchief to hide it mean- 
 while as much as he could. 
 
 " You must know, Bernard," said Captain George, " that 
 you must not look among us for disputants like your and 
 my learned master, Theobald Wolfsteinius. We do not 
 care much for theological discussions, and, thank heaven, 
 we employ our time better." 
 
 " Yet perhaps," said Mergy rather bitterly, " it might have 
 been better for you had you listened attentively to the 
 learned dissertations of the worthy minister you have 
 named." 
 
 " A truce to that, little brother ; we may talk of it again 
 perchance. I know what you think of me, but never mind. 
 We are not here to talk of such matters. I believe I am a 
 man of honour, and you will find it out some day. Drop 
 the subject ; we must think now only of amusement." And 
 he passed his hand over his brow as if to drive off painful 
 thoughts. 
 
 Mergy only whispered, " Dear brother!" and pressed his 
 hand. George replied by a similar pressure, and both hur- 
 ried after their companions, who were somewhat in advance 
 of them. 
 
 As they passed in front of the Louvre, whence crowds of
 
 THE YOUNG COURTIERS. 51 
 
 wcll-Llressed people issued, the captain and his friends ^ave 
 bow or embrace to almost all the noblemen they met, at 
 the same time introducing young Mergy, who in this way 
 made prompt acquaintance with avast number of celebrated 
 personages of the day. As he did so he was told their 
 nicknames (for everyone of any note had his nickname 
 then), as well as the scandalous stories which were reported 
 about them. 
 
 " Do you see," they said, " that counsellor, so pale and so 
 yellow ? That is Master Fetrus de Finibus, otherwise 
 Pierre Seguier, who makes so much ado, and so cleverly, 
 that in everything he undertakes he always gains his ends. 
 There is Thore de Montmorency, ' little Captain Burn-the- 
 benches.' There is his grace the Archbishop of Bottles,' 
 who is pretty steady on his mule, because he has not dined 
 yet. Here is one of the heroes of your own party, the 
 valiant Count tie la Rochefoucauld, surnamed the Cabbage- 
 killer. In the last war he riddled with shot an unlucky 
 plot of cabbages which his bad sight made him take for 
 Lanzknechts." 
 
 In less than a quarter of an hour Mergy knew the names 
 of the lovers of almost all the Court ladies, and the number 
 of duels which had been brought about by the beauty of 
 each. He remarked that the more deaths a lady had been 
 the cause of, the higher did her fame rank. Thus Madame 
 de Courtavel, whose recognized lover had killed two of his 
 rivals, was far better reputed than the unlucky Countess de 
 Pomerande, who had but one miserable duel (with a mere 
 scratch as the result) to her name. 
 
 A lady of stately figure, mounted on a white mule, which 
 
 ' The Archliisliop ot C.uise. 
 II
 
 52 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 was led by an equerry and followed by two lackeys, attracted 
 
 Mergy's atten- 
 tion. 11 er dress 
 was of tlie new- 
 est cut, and 
 stiff with em- 
 broidery. As 
 far as he could 
 judge she must 
 be beautiful : l)ut 
 at that time, as 

 
 THE YOUXG COURTIERS. 
 
 53 
 
 )'OU could see, or rather s^uess from what showed throu<,di 
 the eye-holes, that she had skin of a dazzlino- whiteness 
 and eyes ot a dark blue. She slackened her mule's pace 
 as she passed the young men, and even seemed to look 
 somewhat attentively at Mergy, whose face was strange to 
 her. Plumed hats swept the earth on the path before 
 her ; and she bent her head gracefull)- to return the 
 numerous salutes of a double row of 
 admirers as she passed. As she dis- 
 appeared a puff of winil lifted 
 the hem of her long satin gown, 
 and showed, as by a flash of 
 ightning, a little slipper of white 
 velvet and .some inches of pink 
 silk stocking. 
 
 ■• Who is that latly whom 
 everyone salutes ?" asked Mergy 
 with some interest. 
 
 "What! in love already?" cried 
 Heville. " Ah, 
 
 
 wei 
 
 It IS 
 
 -4ii»' "^^^ 
 
 ^?^*^1 wa\'s her waj- 
 
 Huguenots and 
 Papists alike, all 
 fall in love with 
 Countess Diane 
 de Turgis." 
 
 ^•■■ 
 
 ^3r 
 
 J" .■'. 
 
 *4^'«,» 
 
 4. _
 
 54 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " She is one of the Court beauties," added George ; " one 
 of the most dangerous of Circes for our young gallants. Nor 
 is the fortress easy to carry, confound it." 
 
 " What is her record of duels ?" asked Mergy, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, she is onl_\- in her scores," answered the Baron de 
 Vaudreuil. " But the best of it is that she wanted to fight 
 herself. She sent a regular challenge to another Court lady 
 who had taken precedence of her." 
 
 " A pretty story !" cried Mergy. 
 
 " She would not have been the first of our time," said 
 George, " if she had actually fought. She sent, really sent, 
 a perfectly regular, correct challenge to Madame de Sainte- 
 Foix, offering a duel to the death with sword and dagger, 
 stripped to the shift, just as a j-affind^ duellist would do." 
 
 " I should like to have been one of their seconds to see 
 them both in that costume," said the Chevalier de Rheincy. 
 
 "And did the fight come off?" said Mergy. 
 
 " No," said George ; " the matter was made up." 
 
 "That is to say, he made it up," said Vaudreuil, " for he 
 was Madame de -Sainte-Foix's lover at the time." 
 
 " Fie ! fie ! no more than yourself," quoth George with a 
 very discreet air. 
 
 " Madame de Turgis is like X'audreuil." said Bcvillc, 
 " she hashes up religion and the way of the world together; 
 wants to fight a duel (which is, 1 believe, mortal sin), antl 
 hears two masses a day." 
 
 " Do let my mass and me alone ! " cried \'audreuil. 
 
 " Yes ; she goes to mass," said Rheincy, " but it is to 
 show herself unmasked." 
 
 "Whv. 'tis just fi)r that that so many women go to mass," 
 
 ' The term of the day for a professional duellist.
 
 THE YOUXG COURTIERS. 55 
 
 remarked Mergy, pleased at finding- a chance of jesting at 
 the religion which was not his own. 
 
 " And to meeting, too," said Bevlllc. " When the ser- 
 mon is done, the lights are put out, and then there are fine 
 doings. 'Sdeath ! it tempts me terribly to turn Lutheran." 
 
 "And you believe those absurd stories?" said Mergy 
 disdainfully. 
 
 " Do I believe them ? Why, little Ferrand, whom we all 
 know, used to go to meeting at Orleans to see a notary's 
 wife. A very fine woman, by Jove ! He used to make m\- 
 mouth water by talking of her. He could see her nowhere 
 else ; and luckily a Huguenot friend of his had given him 
 the password, so he got into the meeting-house ; and I leave 
 you to guess whether our comrade employed his time well 
 in the dark or not. ' 
 
 " But that is impossible," said Mergy drily. 
 
 " Impossible ? Pray wh\' .'' " 
 
 " Because no Protestant would be so base as to let a 
 Papist into meeting." 
 
 The answer was greeted with loud laughter. 
 
 " What ! " said Vaudreuil. " You think that because a 
 man is a Huguenot he can neither be a thief nor a traitor, 
 nor a pimp T' 
 
 '• He must have fallen from the moon ! " cried Rheincy. 
 
 '■ For my part," said Beville, " if 1 had to send a billet to 
 a Huguenot beauty, I should go straight to her minister." 
 
 " Because, I suppose, ' answered Mergy, "you are accus- 
 tomed to employ your priests in the same way." 
 
 " Our priests ? " said Vaudreuil, reddening angrily.- 
 
 " 1 pray you, leave off this tiresome talk," interruptetl 
 George, who noticed the offensive sharpness of each re- 
 partee. " Let us leave all the canters of all the sects alone.
 
 56 CHROXICLKS Of CHARLES IX. 
 
 I vote that the first who says ' Huguenot,' ' Papist,' ' Pro- 
 testant,' or ' Cathohc ' shall pay forfeit." 
 
 " Agreed !" cried Pjcville. " He shall pay for a round of 
 the good Cahors wine at the inn where we are going to 
 dine" And there was silence for a moment. 
 
 " Since poor Lannoy was killed before Orleans, Madame 
 de Turgis has had no known lover," said George, who 
 wished to divert his friends from theological ideas. 
 
 " Who would dare to assert that a lady of Paris has no 
 lover?" cried Beville. " 'Tis certain that Comminges 
 presses her hard." 
 
 "That is the reason," said Vaudreuil, "that young Nava- 
 rette gave up ; he was afraid of such a redoubtable rival." 
 
 " Is Comminges jealous, then ?" asked the captain. 
 
 " Like a tiger," answered Beville; "and he declares he 
 will kill anyone who dares love the fair countess ; so that 
 in order not to be left without any lover at all, she must 
 make up her mind to take Comminges." 
 
 " Who is this fire-eater ? " asked Mergy, who, without 
 quite knowing why, felt a lively curiosity as to everything 
 concerning the Countess de Turgis. 
 
 " He is," answered Rheincy, " one of our most famous 
 raffincs ; and as }'ou come from the countr_\-, I will explain 
 our Court lingo to you. A raffiiic is an accomplished gen- 
 tleman — a man who tights when another's cloak touches 
 his own, when a man spits within four feet of him, or, in 
 short, for any other equally reasonable reason. " 
 
 " Comminges," said \ audreuil, " took a man one (.la)' to 
 the Pre-au\-Clercs ; ' they doffed their coats and drew 
 swords. 'Are you not Berny of Auvergne ? ' said Com- 
 
 ' The hvns. chissicns of duels at tlie lime. It lay in front of ilie Louvre, 
 in the siiace between the Rue des I'elits-.Vugustins and the Rue du Bac.
 
 THE YOUNG COURTIERS. 57 
 
 niinges. ' No,' said the other; 'my name is V'illeqliier, and 
 I come from Normandy.' ' That is a pity,' said Comminges ; 
 ' I have mistaken my man. ISut as I have cliallenged you, 
 we must tight.' Antl he killed him merrily." 
 
 Each one added some instance of Comminges' skill or 
 his quarrelsome temper ; the subject was fertile, and the 
 conversation lasted them till they were out of the town, at 
 the Black Boy. This was an inn jjlaced in a garden near 
 the site where the Tuileries, begun in 1564, was in process 
 of buiklintr. Manv more t-entlemen of Georgfe's friends 
 met them there, and they sat down to table a numerous 
 company. 
 
 Mergy, who sat by X'audreuil's side, noticed that his 
 neighbour in sitting down crossed himself and muttered 
 with shut eyes and in u low voice this singular grace : 
 Laus Deo, pixx vivis, salu/cin dcfuncti, ct bcata viscera vir- 
 gitiis Marice (jjue poi-tai'erunt alenii Patris Filiuni. 
 
 " Do you know Latin, Baron ?" asked Mergy. 
 
 " What ! \ou heard my grace ^ " 
 
 " Yes ; but I confess that I did not understand it." 
 
 '■ To tell you the truth, I do not understand Latin m\self, 
 and have no clear idea what the prayer means ; but I learnt 
 it from one of luy aunts, who lound it very efficacious, and 
 since I have used it I have been well satisfied with the 
 result." 
 
 " I think it must be Catholic Latin, and therefore we 
 Huguenots cannot comprehend it." 
 
 " A forfeit ! a forfeit ! " cried Beville and Cajjtain George 
 at once. Mergy submitted with a good grace ; and fresh 
 bottles, which promptly put the company in good humour, 
 were set on the table. 
 
 The conversation soon became noisier, and Mergy availed
 
 58 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 himself of the tumult to talk to his brother without attend- 
 iiiii' to what was trointr on round them. But this aside was 
 interrupted at the end of the second course by the noise of 
 a \'ioIent dispute between two ol the guests. 
 
 " 'Tis false ! " cried the Chevalier de Rheincy. 
 
 " False ! " said Vaudreuil, his natural!)- pale face becoming 
 corpse-like in hue. 
 
 " She is the most virtuous, the chastest of women ! " 
 went on the chevalier. 
 
 Vaudreuil smiled bitterly and shrugged his shoulders. 
 All eyes were fixed upon the disputants, and each man, 
 in a sort of silent neutrality, seemed to be waiting for the 
 upshot of the quarrel. 
 
 " What is the matter, sirs .-" and what is this noise for ? " 
 asked the captain, ready as usual to prevent a breach of the 
 peace. 
 
 " Our friend the chevalier," said Beville placidly, " insists 
 that Madame de Sillery, his mistress, is chaste ; while our 
 friend Vaudreuil declares that she is not, and that he has 
 reason to know it." 
 
 The laugh which followed increased Rheincy's rage, and 
 he fixed eyes of fury on both Vauilreuil and Beville. 
 
 " I could show letters ot hers," said \ audreiiil. 
 
 " I dare you to do so ! " cried the chevalier. 
 
 " Well," said Vaudreuil, with a very evil sneer on his face, 
 '■ I will read one to these gentlemen; they may know her 
 writing as well as myself, for I am not coxcomb enough to 
 boast the monopoly of her letters or her favours either. 
 Here is a note I received this very day," and he made as if 
 he would rummage his pocket for a letter. 
 
 " ^'ou lie in your throat ! " 
 
 The table was too broad for the baron's hand to reach
 
 THE YOUNG COURTIERS. 59 
 
 his foe, who sat right oi)p()sitc him ; hut he cried, " I will 
 drive that 'lie' down your own till it chokes you! " And he 
 rtung a bottle at his adversary's head as he spoke. Rhcincy 
 dodged the blow, and upsetting his chair in his haste, sprang 
 to the wall to take down his sword which hung there. 
 
 All rose, some to interpose in the quarrel, most to keep 
 clear of it. 
 
 " Stop, you madmen," cried George, getting in front of 
 the baron, who was nearest him ; " ouHit two friends to fieht 
 for the sake of a wench ? " 
 
 " A bottle flung at one's head is as bad as a blow," said 
 Beville coolly. " Come, chevalier, my friend, out with your 
 sword." 
 
 "Fair play! fair play! a ring!" cried almost all the 
 guests. 
 
 " Shut the door. Jack," calmly said the host of the Black 
 Boy, who was quite used to scenes of this kind. " If the 
 police were to pass it might interrupt the gentlemen, and do 
 harm to the house." 
 
 " Will you fight in a tavern-room like drunken Lanz- 
 knechts ? " persisted George, anxious to gain time. " At least 
 wait till to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow be it," said Rheincy, offering to sheath his 
 sword. 
 
 " Our little chevalier is airaid, " said Vaudreuil ; whereat 
 Rheincy, thrusting aside those in his way, dashed on his 
 enemy. Both attacked furiously, but \'audreuil had had 
 time to twist a napkin carefully round his left arm, and he 
 used this witli skill to ward off cuts, while Rheincy, who had 
 neglected a similar precaution, was wounded in the left hand 
 at the first passes. But he fought on bravely, shouting to 
 his foot-boy to bring him his poniard. Beville stopped the 
 
 I
 
 6o 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 lackey, declaring that as Vaudreuil had no dagger his foe 
 must have none. Some of the chevalier's friends protested, 
 sharp words were exclianged, and the duel might have turned 
 into a general affray if Vaudreuil had not ended it by strik- 
 ing his enemy down with a severe wound in the breast. 
 
 X^^ He set his foot on 
 Rheincy's sword to 
 
 :i 
 
 |)revent his picking it up, and raised his 
 own to give the cotip dc grace : — a piece of 
 savagery which the duelling rules of the 
 tiiue permitted. 
 ^'s,, ■• "Kill a disarmed foe?" cried George; and he 
 wrested Vaudreuil's sword from his hand. 
 
 The chevalier's wound was not mortal, but he bled freely. 
 They bandagetl him up as best they could with napkins.
 
 THE YOUNG COURTIERS. 
 
 6i 
 
 while he muttered with a forced laugh that the matter was 
 not at an end. Soon there appeared a monk and a surgeon, 
 who wrangled for some; time as to which should take charge 
 of the wounded man. 'Die surgeon got the better, and 
 having made them carry his patient to the Seine-bank, he 
 conveyed him in a boat to his lodgings. Meanwhile some 
 of the servants took away the bloody napkins and washed 
 the floor, while others set fresh bottles on the table. As 
 for Vaudreuil, after very carefully wiping his sword, he 
 sheathed it, crossed himself, and with unruffled calm drew a 
 letter from his pocket, requested silence, and read the first 
 line, which e.xcited roars of laughter — 
 
 "My darling, that troublesome chevalier who pesters 
 me " 
 
 " Let us go," said Mergy to his brother, with an expres- 
 sion of disgust. The captain followed him, and the general 
 attention paid to the letter prevented their departure from 
 beingf noticed.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CONVERT. 
 
 " Don Juan. Wlial ? Voii take vvliat I have ju^l 
 said for cunent coin ; and you believe lliat my nmiuli 
 speaks in unison willi my heart ?" 
 
 MiiI.iEKE, Le Fcstin dc Picrn: 
 
 THE captain returned to town with his brother,-and took 
 him to his lodgings. They spoke little as they walked 
 thither ; for the scene which the)- had just witnessed had left 
 on them a painful impression, which made them silent in spite 
 of themselves. Yet the quarrel, and the irregular duel which 
 followed, were nothing out ol the way for the time. Erom 
 one end of France to the other the touchy susceptibility of 
 the nobles caused the most painful incidents ; so that at a
 
 64 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 moderate calculation the rage for duels cost more lives under 
 the reigns of Henry III. and Henry IV. than ten years of 
 civil war. 
 
 The captain's lodgings were furnished with taste. Em- 
 broidered silk cLutains, and carpets of bright hue, at once 
 caught the eyes of Mergy, who was accustomed to simpler 
 fashions. He entered a small apartment which his brother 
 called his oratory, the name of boudoir not having been yet 
 invented. A faldstool of oak elaborately carved, a Madonna 
 by an Italian master, and a holy- water stoup with its thick 
 .spray of bo.x, seemed to justify the chamber's sacred de- 
 signation ; while a sofa covered in black damask, a mirror 
 of Venice glass, a portrait of a lady, weapons, and musical 
 instruments, susfsrested that the inmate was not unaccustomed 
 to occupations something mundane in character. 
 
 Mergy cast a contemptuous eye on the holy-water stoup 
 audits sprig, vvhichreminded him disagreeablyof his brother's 
 apostasy. A lackey i)oy brought preserves, sweetmeats, and 
 white wine; tor tea and coffee were not yet in use, and the 
 simple tastes of our ancestors put wy with wine in the place 
 of all such modish drinks. 
 
 Mergy, glass in hand, still kept looking from the Madonna 
 to the stoup, and from the stoup to the faldstool. He 
 sighed deeply ; and gazing at his brother, who had stretched 
 himself with a nonchalant air on the couch, he said, " Your 
 Popish equipment is comjjlete. What would our mother 
 say if she were here ? " 
 
 The notion seemed to pain the cai)tain. He bent his 
 bushy eyebrows, and waved his hand as if to ask his brother 
 not to broach such a subject; but Mergy went on pitilessly : 
 
 " Can you possibly have abjured our famil\- faith with 
 your heart as \ou ha\e with Nour lips ?"
 
 1^ 
 
 THE COMERT. 
 
 6S 
 
 
 
 
 ®^ 
 
 
 »V! 
 
 "Our family faith? it was never 
 
 mine ! What ? / beheve in the canting 
 
 , serniDns that your ministers twang 
 
 ', throutjh their noses ? / " 
 
 I • • 
 
 -- " And it is better of course to believe 
 
 in purgatory, in confession, in the in- 
 fallibility of the Pope ? It is better to 
 throw oneself beh:)re the dusty sandals 
 of a Capuchin ? The time will come 
 when you will think you cannot dine 
 without rabblintr the Baron de \'au- 
 
 o o 
 
 tlreuil's grace." 
 
 " Listen to me, Bernard. I hate 
 
 ;\ argument, especially re- 
 
 'ienous argument ; 
 
 I must have an explanation 
 or later, and since we have 
 I will speak to you without 
 
 with )ou sooner 
 beeunletusfinish. 
 concealment."
 
 66 CHRONICLES OF CHAR/. US /X. 
 
 " Then )ou do not l)elieve in the absurd inventions of the 
 Papists ? " 
 
 The captain shrugged his shoulders, and let one of his 
 large spurs ring again as he dropped his heel on the floor. 
 " Papists ? " he cried, " Huguenots ? What is there on either 
 side but superstition ? I cannot believe what reason shows 
 me to be absurd. Our litanies and your psalms are both 
 nonsense ; one as bad as the other. Only," he added, 
 smiling, " there is sometimes good music in our churches, 
 while 3'ou wage immortal war with ears of taste." 
 
 " A pretty advantage for your religion, and a good reason 
 for making proselytes to it !" 
 
 " Do not call it my religion, for I believe in it no more 
 than in yours. Since I could think for myself, since my 
 reason has been left uncontrolled " 
 
 " But " 
 
 " A truce with preachments. I know by heart everything 
 that you can say to me. I too have had my hopes and my 
 fears. Do you think I have not striven my utmost to keep 
 the happy superstitions of childhood ? I have read all the 
 divines to find solace for the doubts that frightened me, and 
 I but made them stronger. In short, I could not and I cannot 
 believe. The precious gift of laith has been refused me, 
 but I would not tt)r the workl deprive others of it." 
 
 " I am sorry for you." 
 
 " There, you are right enough. As a Protestant I did not 
 believe in meeting; as a Catholic I do not believe any more 
 in the mass. Are not the savageries of our civil wars 
 enough, in God's name, to uproot the strongest faith ? " 
 
 " l)ut they are the work of men onl\', and of men who 
 have perverted the word of God." 
 
 " That answer is not original ; but you must not complain
 
 THE CONVERT. 67 
 
 if I am still unconvinced. I do not and I cannot compre- 
 hend your Deity ; and if I did believe, it would be, as our 
 friend Jodelle says, ' with all rights reserved.'" 
 
 " But if the two faiths are indifferent to you, why that 
 abjuration which has hurt your famil)- and your friends so 
 much ?" 
 
 " 1 have written at least a score of times to my father to 
 explain my reasons to him and excuse myself; but he has 
 thrown my letters unopened into the fire, and has behaved to 
 me more harshly than if I had committed some great crime." 
 
 " Neither my mother nor I approved this excessive stern- 
 ness of his; and if. we had not received positive orders " 
 
 " I do not know what has been thought of me, and I do 
 not much care ; but I will tell you what made me take a 
 sudden step, which, no doubt, I should not take if the thing 
 were to be done afresh." 
 
 " Ah ! I always thought you would repent of it." 
 
 " Repent of it .^ No ; for I do not think that 1 did ill. 
 When you were still at school, busy with Latin and Greek, 
 I had harness on back, had donned the white scarf,' and was 
 fighting in our first civil war. Your little Prince of Conde, 
 who was responsible for so many of your faction's faults — 
 your Prince of Conde, I say, used to mind your business 
 when his gallantries gave him time. A lady loved me and 
 the prince wanted me to give her up to him ; I refused, and 
 he became my mortal enemy. So he set himself to inflict on 
 me all possible mortifications. ' The pretty little prince 
 who is always kissing his ladylove ' pointed me out to the 
 extremists of the party as a monster of debauchery and 
 irreligion. Now I had but one mistress, and I clave to her. 
 
 ' The reformers h.id chosen this party colour. 
 K
 
 68 CHKOy/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 As for irreligion, 1 let others alone, why should they pick 
 a quarrel with me ? " 
 
 " I should have thought it impossible that the prince 
 could behave so ill." 
 
 " He is dead, and you have made a hero of him, which 
 is the way of the world. He was not without merits. He 
 died like a brave man, and I have forgiven him. But at 
 that time he was all-powerful, and resistance on the part ot 
 a poor gentleman like me seemed to him a crime." 
 
 The captain paced the chamber for some time, and then 
 continued in a voice of ever-increasing passion : 
 
 " Every minister, every fanatic in the army was soon set 
 upon me. I cared as little for their snarling as for their 
 sermons; but one of the prince's gentlemen, to curry favour 
 with his master, called me ' Lecher ' before all our captains. 
 I boxed his ears first, and killed him afterwards. There were 
 at least a dozen duels a day in the army, and our generals 
 turned blind e)-es to them. But /was made an exception ; and 
 the prince determined that I should be a lesson to the whole 
 army. The entreaties of all the men of quality — including, 
 I must own, the Admiral — obtained my pardon ; but the 
 prince's hatred was not satisfied. At Jazeneuil fight I was 
 in command of a company of pistoliers ; I had been in the 
 front of the melee ; two musket-ball dents in my cuirass and 
 a lance-wound through ni)' left arm showed that I had not 
 spared myself I had twenty men left, and a full battalion 
 of the King's Swiss was marching on us. The Prince of 
 Conde bade me charge them ; I asked him for two companies 
 of Reiters, and — he called me a coward ! " 
 
 Mergy started up and seized his brother's hand. But the 
 captain continued, still pacing up and down with eyes flash- 
 ing fur_\-.
 
 THE CONVERT. 
 
 69 
 
 " He called me coward beture all these gentry in their 
 
 gilded armour, who a few months afterwards deserted him 
 
 antl left him to be killed at Jarnac. I felt that there 
 
 was nothin*^'- to do l)ut to die. I dashed 
 
 "mwW^-^-^ ^'^ '•"^ Swiss, swearmg that it by any 
 
 chance I came off with my life, 
 I would never draw sword again 
 for so unjust a prince. Wounded 
 .severely and unhorsed, I was on the 
 point of being killed, when one of 
 
 rr-- ■ ,-■.3 '"u^ *j 
 
 ^ t^r . ''Wm ^^^'^ Duke of Anjou 's gendemen, 
 
 ^^? J .^ "^'Af Beville, the same madcap with whom 
 
 ^^€^'t:^. ^d^. 
 
 we dined to-day, saved my life, and 
 introduced me to the 
 
 duke. I was well treated, 
 
 and I was thirsting for 
 
 revenge. They made much of me ; they urged me to 
 
 take service with my benefactor the duke ; they quoted 
 
 the line — 
 
 "Omne solum forti [)atria est, ut piscibus ajiiuor." 
 I was disgusted at the Protestants for calling foreigners into
 
 70 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 our country. But why not confess the one true reason which 
 actuated me ? I longed for vengeance, and I turned 
 Cathohc in hopes of meeting the Prince of Conde on the 
 battle-field and killing him. A coward undertook the 
 business of paying my debts ; and the way in which he was 
 killed almost made me forget my hatred. I saw him a 
 bleeding prey to the soldiers' insults : I rescued his corpse 
 from their hands, and flung my own mantle over it. But I 
 was already pledged to the Catholics : I had a troop in their 
 cavalry, and I could not leave them. Luckily, I think I may 
 say 1 have been of some service to my old side : I tried 
 whenever I could to soften the rage of a religious war, and 
 I was fortunate enough to save the lives of some old 
 friends." 
 
 " Oliver de Basseville tells everyone that he owes his life 
 to you." 
 
 " So I am a Catholic now," said George in a calmer tone. 
 "It is as good a religion as any other ; for it is so easy to get 
 on with their pious people. You see that pretty Madonna ? 
 'Tis the portrait of an Italian courtesan; and yet ianatics 
 admire my piety, while they cross themsehes before her 
 virginship. I warrant )'ou I have an easier time with them 
 than with our ministers. I can live as I please at the cost 
 of a very few sacrifices to the prejudices of the vulgar. 
 One must go to mass : I go now and then — to look at the 
 pretty women. One must have a confessor: well, mine is a 
 Franciscan, a capital fellow, who has been a horse arque- 
 busier, and who for a crown gives me my confession ticket, 
 and carries my own billets to his pretty penitents into the 
 bargain. Death of my life! the mass for ever!" 
 
 Mergy could not help smiling. 
 
 " Here," went on the captain, " is my Church Service,"
 
 THE CONVERT. 71 
 
 and he threw him a book richl)' bt)uncl in velvet cover and 
 silver clasps; "these ' Hours 'are well worth your Prayer- 
 books." 
 
 Mergy read on the back, " Hours of the Court." 
 
 " It is a pretty binding," said he scornfully, handing the 
 book back. 
 
 The captain opened it, and returned it again with a smile. 
 Mergy read on the title-page, " The Very Horrific Life of 
 the Great Gargantua, Father of Pantagruel. Composed I)y 
 Master Alcofribas, Extractor of Quintessence." 
 
 " That is the book for me," cried the captain laughing. 
 " I rate it higher than all the divinity books in the Geneva 
 Library." 
 
 " They say, no doubt, that the author was learned enough, 
 but he has hardly made a good use of his learning." 
 
 George shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Read it, Bernard, and you shall tell me what \ ou think 
 of it afterwards." 
 
 Mergy took the book, but after a moment's silence : 
 
 "I am still sorr\-," said he, "that mere disgust, however 
 well-founded, should have drawn you into a step which you 
 will certainly repent some day." 
 
 The captain's head sank, and his eyes appeared to be 
 carefully tracing the pattern of the carpet at his feet. 
 " What is done is done," said he, smothering a sigh. 
 " Perhaps," he added in a gayer tone, " I shall come back to 
 meeting some day. But meanwhile let us drop the subject: 
 promise me never to return to one so tiresome." 
 
 " I hope your own conscience will do more than my lec- 
 tures or my advice." 
 
 " Be it so. And now let us talk o\. your business. What 
 was your object in coming to Court ?"
 
 72 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 " I hope for strong enough recommendations to the 
 Admiral to obtain admission forme among his gentlemen in 
 the campaign he is going to make in the Netherlands." 
 
 " I do not like your plan. No gentleman who has a good 
 heart in his breast and a sword by his side ought of his own 
 free will to make a lackey of himself. Volunteer for the 
 Royal Guards ; for my own company of light horse, if you 
 like. You will make the campaign, as we all shall, under 
 the Admiral's orders ; but at least you will Ije no one's 
 body-servant." 
 
 " But I have no desire to join the King's Guard ; I had 
 even much rather not. It would please me well enough to 
 serve in your company ; but my tather wishes me to make 
 my first campaign under the Admiral's immediate leading." 
 
 "That is like you Huguenot gentry. You preach union, 
 and yet j'ou bear old grudges worse than we do ours." 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " Why, you still look on the King as a tyrant, an ' Ahab,' 
 as your ministers call him. Nay, he is not even your king; 
 he is an usurper; and since the death of Louis XHI.,' 'tis 
 Gaspard I. who is King of France." 
 
 " That is an itUe jest." 
 
 " Well, well ; you may as well serve old Gaspard as the 
 Duke of Guise ; for M. de Chatillon is really a great captain, 
 and you will learn your trade under him." 
 
 "So even his enemies esteem him," said iMerg\-. 
 
 " Hum ! A certain pistol-shot was not cpiite to his credit." 
 
 "He has proved his innocence; and besides, his whole 
 life is utterly out of harmony with Poltrot's coward!)- crime." 
 
 ' Prince Louis of Conde, who \va.s killed at Jarnac, was accused by the 
 Catholics of having designs on the crown. Admiral Coligny's name was 
 Gaspard.
 
 THE CONVERT. 73 
 
 "Yet," said George, "you know the Latin axiom, ' He 
 whom it profited did it.' Without that pistol-shot Orleans 
 would have fallen." 
 
 " But after all, it was only a man the less in the Catholic 
 army." 
 
 " Yes, but what a man ! Did you never hear two lines — 
 bad verse enough, but as good as your psalms — 
 
 " For so many Guisards as keep the dance, 
 So many Mer^s are still in France." ' 
 
 " Idle threats, and nothing more," answered Mergy. " It 
 would be a long list if I were to run over all the crimes of 
 the Guisards themselves." 
 
 " As for me, if I were King of France, this is what I 
 would do to restore peace. I would stow Guises and Cha- 
 tillons both in a good leathern bag, well sewn and well tied 
 up, and I would throw them into the sea with a thousand 
 quintals of iron for ballast, that not a soul might escape. I 
 could find room in the bag for some other folk too." 
 
 "It is lucky, then, that you are not King of France." 
 
 After this, the conversation took a livelier turn, politics 
 and theology both being dropped : and the brothers told 
 all the little matters that had hajspened to them since 
 they parted. Mergy frankly told against himself the story 
 of the Lion d'Or ; and his brother, laughing heartily at it, 
 joked him not a little on the loss of his eighteen crowns 
 and his good chestnut. liut the bells of a neighbouring 
 church broke in on the talk. 
 
 ' Poltrot de Mt^re, who murdered the great Duke Francis of Guise at the 
 siege of Orleans, just as the town was at the last extremity. Coligny justi- 
 fied himself, not too successfully, from the charge of having allowed, or not 
 prevented, the crime.
 
 74 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 '" Parblcii !" said the captain. "Come to church this 
 evening! I am sure it will amuse you." 
 
 " Thank you, Ijut I feel no desire to be converted yet." 
 " Do come : to-day's preacher is Brother Lubin, a cor- 
 delier who makes religion such a joke that crowds flock to 
 
 Hi 
 
 I V\\r\ 
 
 
 ; iru' n \ 
 
 ii|r':«P!, 
 
 I r „,„ 
 
 
 hear him Besides, the whole Court is going to St. Jacques 
 to day : 'tis a sight to see." 
 
 " And will Madame de Turo-is be there ? and will she 
 take her mask off?" 
 
 " Why, certainly : she is bound to be there. It you want
 
 THE CONVERT. 
 
 75 
 
 to enter your name for tht; stake, do not forget when church 
 Is over to wait at the door and offer her holy water. That 
 is another of the admirable ceremonies of the Catholic 
 Church. Heavens ! how many pretty hands I have 
 squeezed ! how many billets-doux; I have slip|)ed in, wliile 
 giving this same holy water ! " 
 
 " Somehow it is so disgusting to me, that I do not think 
 anything in the world would induce me to dip my finger 
 in it." 
 
 But the captain interrupted him with a shout of laughter; 
 and both, having cloaked themselves, made for the church 
 of .St. Jacques, where a fair and numerous company was 
 already assembled.
 
 
 ?rV; 
 
 fi /'/ 
 
 X 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 / 
 
 1 ' ■ 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 1 1 ii 
 
 \ 5 
 
 1 
 
 j 
 
 \ 
 i 
 
 1 ^■- ■* ■ "" 
 
 *■ ■ " 
 
 i ■ 
 
 ' 
 
 
 i 
 
 ,\ 
 
 
 
 •A 
 A', 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 V" ■' 
 
 
 THE SERM(JN". 
 
 " Willi mo\ith well open, n tine de- 
 
 patcher of Hours, good at driving 
 
 lirough a Mass, good at polishing off 
 
 Vigils : and to put the whole shortly, 
 
 a true monk if e\'er there 
 
 was one since a monking 
 
 workl nionked its monkery." 
 
 Rabelais. 
 
 S Captain George 
 
 ; __./^ crossed the churcli to find 
 
 '^^^ r . 1 1 1 
 
 a comtortable place near 
 
 the preacher, their atten- 
 tion was caught by bursts of laughter coming from the 
 sacristy ; and going in thither, they found a fat man, with a
 
 78 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 cheerful and florid countenance, clothed in the gown of 
 St. Francis, and conversing- in a very lively manner with 
 half-a-dozen splendidly dressed young men. 
 
 " Come, children," said he, " be quick. The ladies are 
 tired of waiting. Give me my te.\t." 
 
 "Talk of the tricks these same ladies play their hus- 
 bands," quoth one of the young men, whom George recog- 
 nized at once as Beville. 
 
 " I grant you the subject is fertile, my bo)' ; but what can 
 I say so good as the sermon of the I'ontoise preacher who 
 cried : ' I am going to throw my cap at the head of that 
 woman among you who has planted her husband's brows 
 thickest with horns ' : whereat there was not a wife in the 
 church who did not shield her head with arm or mantle, as 
 if to ward off the blow." 
 
 "Oh, b'ather Luliin," said another, "I only came to 
 sermon for your sake ! Prithee give us something merry 
 to-day. Talk of love. It is a sin which is fashionable 
 enough now." 
 
 "Fashionable, you call it? Fashionable for you gentle- 
 men who are twenty-five; but 1 am well into my fifties. 
 At my age one cannot talk of love ; and for m\- part I have 
 forgotten what the sin means." 
 
 " Don't make a prim mouth, F"ather Lubin. You can 
 talk about it just as well as ever. We know you." 
 
 " Yes," added Beville. " Preach on Luxury. The ladies 
 will all say that )'ou are very full of your subject." 
 
 To which jest the cordelier replied with a sly wink, 
 showing both the pride and the pleasure he lelt at being 
 upbraided with a young man's vice. 
 
 " No, I will not preach about it; because the Court dames 
 would have no more of me for confessor if I showed myself
 
 THE SERMON. 79 
 
 too severe on that score : and in conscience, if I spoke at 
 all on it, it would be to show how men risk their eternal 
 welfare — for what? — for a single minute of pleasure ! " 
 
 "Well then — But here is the captain. Come, George, 
 give us a text. Father Lubin has iiromistnl to preach on 
 the first subject we give him." 
 
 " Yes," said the monk. " P)Ut death of ni)- life ! be quick. 
 I ought to be in the [nilpit b\- this time." 
 
 "Why, Father Lubin, you swear as well as the King 
 could do ! " cried George. 
 
 " I bet he will not swear in his .sermon," .said lieville. 
 
 "Why not, if the fancy takes me?" answered Father 
 Lubin boldly. 
 
 " I bet ten jjistoles that )ou will not dare." 
 
 " Ten pistoles ?^ — Done ! " 
 
 " I will go shares with you, Heville," said the captain. 
 
 "No, no!" said he. "I will have the good father's 
 money all to myself : and if he swears, faith ! I shall not 
 regret my own. Oaths from a preacher are quite worth ten 
 pistoles." 
 
 "And I tell you that the money is mine," said Father 
 Lubin. " I will begin my sermon with three oaths. Ah, 
 my good young gentlemen, because you wear sword at side 
 and plume in hat, you think you alone know how to swear. 
 We shall see." 
 
 And so speaking he went out of the sacristy and mounted 
 the pulpit. Forthwith a deep silence tell on the assembly. 
 
 The preacher ran his eyes over the crowd that thronged 
 round the pulpit, as if to fmd out the layer of the bet ; and 
 descrying him leaning against a pillar immediately in front, 
 he bent his brows, set fist on hip, and in the tone of an 
 angry man began thus :
 
 8o CHRONICLES OF CHARLES EX. 
 
 " My dear brethren, by the virtue ! by the death ! by the 
 blood ! " 
 
 A murmur of indiL;nant surprise interrupted him, or 
 rather filled the pause which he designedly made. 
 
 " — of God," continued the Franciscan, with the most pious 
 twang possible, " we are saved and delivered from hell." 
 
 A roar of general laughter interrupted him for the second 
 time ; and Beville, taking his purse from his girdle, shook it 
 ostentatiously before the preacher as an admission that he 
 had lost. 
 
 "Well, my brethren," continued the unruffled father, 
 " you think it is all right, do you not ? ' We are saved and 
 delivered from hell.' These are comfortable words, think 
 you ? We can fold our arms and take our ease. We have 
 got rid of those nasty hell-flames. As for purgatory-fire, it 
 is only as it were a singeing with a taper, to be cured by 
 oil of masses — a dozen at most. Come, let us eat, let us 
 drink, let us go and see Polly and Dolly. This is how 
 you reckon, hardened sinners that you are. Now I, Brother 
 Lubin — 1 tell you that you reckon without your host ! 
 
 "You, for instance, you heretical gentry, you Huguenots 
 of the Huguenots, you think that it was to deliver jw/ from 
 hell that our Saviour deigned to let Himself be crucified ? 
 Fools ! It is very likely, is it not, that He should have shed 
 His precious blood for rascals like you ? That would have 
 been (not to speak irreverently) throwing pearls to swine, 
 and our Saviour's way was the other — to throw swine to 
 pearls, for there are pearls in the sea, and our Lord threw 
 into the sea two thousand swine. And ' Behold, the whole 
 herd ran violently down a steep place into the sea.' A good 
 journey to you, my masters the pigs ! and may all heretics 
 Qo the same wav ! '
 
 THE SKIUfOX. 
 
 8i 
 
 The speaker coughed, and stopped a mi 
 enjoy the effect of liis eloquence on the 
 faithful ; then he went on : 
 
 " Therefore, ye Huguenots, be con- 
 verted, and be (juick about it, or else 
 woe to you ! You are 
 neither saved nor de- 
 livered from hell, so 
 show a clean pair of 
 heels to meeting, i, 
 and cry ' The mass 
 li)r ever 
 
 " Butyou.mydear 
 Catholic brethren, 
 )Ou rub yinir hands 
 and lick \()ur ln>s 
 
 nute to see and
 
 82 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 thinking you are in the pleasant suburbs of Paradise ah-ead\-. 
 To speak frankly, my brethren, it is farther from the Court 
 where you dwell to Paradise (even if you take the short cut 
 across) than it is from Saint Lazare to the Porte St. Denis. 
 " ' The virtue, the death, the blood of God have saved 
 you and delivered you from hell.' Yes, I grant you, by 
 freeino- you from the burden of original sin. But woe to 
 you if Satan catches you up again. And I tell you that he 
 goeth about seeking whom he may devour. Oh, my dear 
 brethren, Satan is one who could teach a trick or two of 
 fence to Big John, LitUe John, and the Englishman himself; 
 and I tell you of a truth, fierce are the attacks he makes 
 on us. 
 
 " For as soon as we doff our petticoats, and are breeched 
 — as soon, I say, as we are in case to be guilty of 
 mortal sin — Master Satan challenges us to the Pre-auN- 
 Clercs of this life. Our arms are the holy sacraments : as 
 for him, he has a whole arsenal of weapons, to wit, our sins, 
 which supply him with arms of offence and defence at once. 
 " I can see him coming on the ground : his cuirass of 
 olittlouv on his body, his spurs of idleness at his heels, the 
 long sword oi luxitry at his girdle. His dagger is any, he 
 wears //vV/r on his head as a man-at-arms wears his morion; 
 he has avarice in his pocket to use at need ; and anger, with 
 insults, and all that follow them, he holds in his mouth : — 
 whence it will be clear to you that he is literally armed to 
 the teeth. 
 
 "When God has given the wortl, Satan does not, like our 
 punctilious duellists, say, '.Sir, are you ready?' but plunges 
 headlong on the Christian without crying, ''Ware ! ' But the 
 Christian, seeing that he is going to receive a thrust fro 
 o/iiitoiiy in the belly, parries \\\i\\ fasiino:" 
 
 m
 
 THE SERMON. 83 
 
 Here the preacher, to make his discourse clearer, took a 
 crucifix, and began to fence with it, hmging and parr\ing 
 exactly as a lencino-master would use a foil to illustrate a 
 difficult stroke. 
 
 " Satan, in the very act of recover)', puts in a cut of aii^ci\ 
 and then, feinting with hypocrisy, thrusts in quart with/r/*^/^. 
 The Christian first protects himself with patience, and then 
 replies to pride with a lunge from Immiiity. Satan, angry 
 at this, tries at once a resolute stoccata with luxtiry, but 
 perceiving it to be parried with mortification, he throws 
 himself recklessly on his foe, trying to trip up his heels with 
 idleness, and at the same time aiming a dagger blow of 
 envy at him, while he tries to slip avarice into his heart. 
 Then is there need of a firm foot and a quick eye. With 
 labour the trick of idleness is foiled ; the dagger of envy is 
 blunted by love-of-oiir-jicighboiir (not an easy parry, my 
 friends) ; and as for the privy thrust of avarice, nothing but 
 charity can ward off that. 
 
 " But, my brethren, how many of )ou are there who, 
 when attacked thus in tierce and in (|uart, with cut and with 
 thrust, would be ever ready with a parry for every pass of 
 the Enemy ? Many a champion have I seen beat to the 
 ground : and then, if he has not swift recourse to contrition, 
 he is a lost man ; and you cannot be too quick in using this 
 last resort. You think, you courtiers, that Pcccavi is a short 
 word to say. Alas! my brethren, how many poor dying 
 sinners try to say it and their voice fails them at the Peel 
 And then, presto ! there is a soul carried off by the devil ! 
 Fetch it back who can." 
 
 Brother Lubin continued his eloquent harangue for some 
 considerable time ; and when he came down the pulpit steps 
 a connoisseur in style observed, that though he had preached 
 
 M
 
 84 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 barely an huur, his discourse made thirty-seven distinct 
 points, Leiides Hashes of wit (such as those I have quoted) 
 which no man could number. Catholics and Protestants 
 joined in applauding the preacher, who was long detained at 
 the foot of the pulpit by an eager crowd pressing from all 
 l^arts of the church to congratulate him. 
 
 During the sermon Mergy had several times asked where 
 Madame de Turgis was ; and his brother had looked for her 
 in vain. Either the fair countess was not in church, or she 
 had hidden herself from admiration in some dark corner. 
 
 " I wish," said Mergy as he went out, " that all who were 
 present at this absurd sermon could this moment hear one 
 of the simple exhortations of our ministers." 
 
 " There she is !" said the captain, whispering and pressing 
 his arm. 
 
 Mergy turned his head, and saw, passing like lightning- 
 through the dark doorway, a lady magnificently dressed, 
 and conducted by a young man of fair complexion and 
 small stature, slight in figure, effeminate in air, and dressed 
 with probably studied carelessness. The crowd made way 
 for them with a readiness that savoured of alarm ; for the 
 cavalier was the redoubted Comminges. 
 
 Mergy had scarce time to glance at the countess. He 
 could not even distinctly see her features, though they made 
 a great Impression on him as a whole. But to Comminges 
 he had taken a mortal dislike, though at the same time 
 without ([uite knowing why. He was indignant at .seeing 
 such an insignificant apjjearance coupled with such a repu- 
 tation. "It the countess," he thought, "loved anyone in 
 this crowd, that monster Comminges would kill him. He 
 has sworn to kill all whom she loves," and he grasped the hilt 
 of his sword with an involuntary and exciteci movement of
 
 THE SER.UOy. 85 
 
 which he was at once ashamed. " What does it matter to 
 me, after all ? 1 have hardly seen his conquest, am! do not 
 grudge her to him." Ikit his thoughts had left a dis- 
 agreeable impression, and h(\ did not speak from the church 
 to the captain's house. 
 
 They found supper on table; but -Merg)- ate little, and as 
 soon as the cloth was removed expressed a wish to return 
 to his inn. The captain made no objection to his going, on 
 condition that he woukl next day come antl take up his 
 quarters definitely. 
 
 We need not say that Mergy was supplied by his brother 
 with money, a horse, and so forth ; together with the address 
 of the court tailor, and of the only shop where a gentleman 
 who was anxious to stand well with the ladies could l)u\ his 
 gloves, his ruffs a la confusion, and his shoes li eric or 
 a pont-levis. 
 
 At last, darkness having set in, he returned to his inn, 
 accompanied by two of his brother's serving-men well armed 
 with sword and pistol ; for the streets of Paris after eight 
 o'clock were more dangerous then than the road from 
 Seville to Granada is now.
 
 C H A P T E R \ 
 
 ^ ^K 
 
 A PARTY' l.KADER. 
 
 '* lockey of Norfolk, !)c not too bold I 
 
 For Dickon lliy master is liouglit and sold." 
 
 Shakesjt.are, Kins; Kic liar J II f. 
 
 A^ /"HEN I'ernard de Mcrgy returned t(3 his modest 
 V V hostelry he glanced in a melancholy manner at the 
 worn and tarnished furniture. As he silently compared the 
 walls, once whitewashed, now blackened with smoke, to the 
 bright silken tapestries of the lodging he had just quitted — 
 as he remeni!)cred the beautiful [tainting of the Madonna, 
 and saw nothing on his own w.ills but an old image of a 
 saint, a base enough thought entered his mind. All that 
 Iu.Kur\-, all that elegance, the good graces of ladies, the 
 Kiui/'s favour — all these desirable thinsrs had cost Georire 
 
 o o o 
 
 but a word, a single word, easy enough to pronounce, for it
 
 88 CHKOXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 had to come from the lips onl)-, and no question was asked 
 about the heart. At the same time, there occurred to him 
 tln' names of divers Protestants who, liy abjuration, had 
 raised themselves to the highest honours; and as the devil 
 makes strings to his bow out ol anything, the parable of the 
 Prodigal Son also suggested itself, but with this moral, 
 foreign to the original, that there would be more joy over a 
 converted Huguenot than over a consistent Catholic. 
 
 These thoughts, which recurred in divers shapes, and as it 
 were independently of his will, haunted him constant!)', 
 despite his disgust at them. He took a Geneva Bible which 
 had belonged to his mother, and read it for some time, until, 
 calmed at length, he laid the book down, and, before he 
 closed his eyes, swore to himself to live and die in the faith 
 of his fathers. 
 
 Yet notwithstanding his reading and his oath, his dreams 
 showed the iniprcss of the day's adventures. He had visions 
 of curtains of purple silk, of golden plate : and then sud- 
 denly the tables were upset, swords flashed, and blood 
 mingled with the wine. Again, the painted Madonna became 
 alive ; she left her frame and danced before him. He tried 
 to register her features in his memor)' ; and onl\' then noticed 
 that she was masked in black, liut ah ! the dark blue eyes 
 and the glimpse ot white skin that shone through the open- 
 ing of the mask ! Next, the mask-strings fell, and a face 
 a|)peared — a face of heavenly beauty, but still without clearly 
 tlistinguishable traits, like the reflection of a nymph in 
 troubled water. Against his will liis eyes drooped ; but he 
 raised them quickly, and had before him onl\' the redoulitable 
 Comminges, a l)l()od\" sword m his hand. 
 
 He rose early, caused his slender baggage to be carried 
 to his brother's house, and, declinintf Georye's offer to show
 
 A PARTY LEADER. 89 
 
 him the sights of tlie town, went hy himself to tlie Hotel tie 
 Chatillon to present to the Atlmiral the letters with whicli 
 his father had charged him. 
 
 He found the courtyard of the hotel thronged with ser- 
 vants and horses, and had some trouble in making his way 
 through these to a large ante-room filled with squires and 
 pages, who, though onh' armed with their swords, made up 
 an imposing body-guard around the Admiral. An usher in 
 black garments, after a glance at Mergy's lace collar and at a 
 eold chain which his brother had lent him, made no difficultv 
 in admitting him at once to the gallery w-here his master was. 
 
 The Admiral was surrounded by nobles, gentlemen, and 
 ministers of the gospel, to the number of more than forty 
 — all standing with uncovered head and respectful attitude. 
 He was very simply dressed in a complete suit of black. His 
 stature was lofty, but slightly bowed, and his bald forehead 
 was wrinkled rather b)' the toils of war than by years. A 
 long white beard fell upon his breast. His cheeks, naturally 
 hollow, appeared even more so, thanks to a wound, the deep 
 scar of which was hardly hidden by his long moustache ; 
 for a pistol-ball at Montcontour hail pierced his cheek and 
 broken several teeth. His countenance was sad rather 
 than severe, and men said that since the brave Dandelot's ' 
 death none had seen him smile. He stood with his hand 
 resting on a table covered with maps and plans, among 
 which towered a huge quarto Bible ; while toothpicks 
 scattered among the charts and papers bore witness to a 
 habit which was often made the subject of jest. A secretary, 
 seated at one end of the table, seemed hard at work writinir 
 letters, which he afterwards presented to the Admiral for 
 
 signature. 
 
 His brother.
 
 90 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES FX. 
 
 At the sight of the great man, whu, in the eyes of his co- 
 reHgionists, was more than a I<ing — uniting in his own person 
 both hero and saint — Mergy felt so much veneration, that in 
 presenting himself he, without intending it, bent one knee 
 to the ground. The Admiral, surprised and vexed at this 
 unusual mark of respect, signed to him to rise, and took the 
 letter which the young enthusiast held out with a slight 
 touch of impatience. Then, glancing at the arms on the 
 seal, " It is," he said, " from my old comrade, the Baron de 
 Mergy ; and you, young man, are so like him, that you must 
 be his son." 
 
 " Sir, my father would gladlj', had his great age permitted, 
 have made the journey himself to pay his respects to you." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Coligny, turning to those about him 
 after he had read the letter, " I present to you the son of 
 the Baron de Mergy, who has come two hundred leagues 
 and more to join us. We shall have no lack, it seems, of 
 volunteers for Flanders. Gentlemen, I ask your friendship 
 for the son ; you already know the high worth of the 
 father." 
 
 And Mergy at once received a score of embraces and 
 offers of assistance. " Are you a soldier already, my friend 
 Bernard?" asked the Admiral: " have you ever heard a 
 shot fired }" 
 
 Mergy blushed as he answered that he had not yet had 
 the good luck to fight for the religion. 
 
 " Congratulate yourself rather, young man," said Coligny, 
 gravely, " that you have not yet been obliged to shed your 
 countrymen's blood. Thank God ! " he added sighing, "civil 
 war is over, the religion has a breathing time, and you, 
 happier than we were, will only draw sword against the foes 
 of your king and country." Then, putting his hand on the
 
 J PARTY LEADER. 
 
 9' 
 
 young man's shoulder, " I am sure," said he, " you will not 
 belie the race from which you spring. As your father wishes, 
 you shall serve first among my gentlemen ; and when we 
 meet the Spaniards, capture one of their standards, and you 
 shall have a cornctcy in my regiment on the spot. " 
 
 " Then I swear," cried Mergy 
 resolvedly, " that at the first 
 action I will be a cornet or my 
 father shall lose a son." 
 
 " Well said, brave bo)- ! You 
 speak like your father ; " and he 
 called his steward. " This," he 
 said, " is my steward. Master 
 .Samuel. It you want money for 
 outfit, talk to him." 
 
 The steward bowed to Mergy, 
 
 ^\<=^"- mj»j <l\\ \\ho quickly returned his thanks, 
 '"^ ^^^P.cs^/' but declined the kindness. "My 
 
 father and my brother," he said, 
 " have supplied my wants amply." 
 "Your brother.'^ Is that Cap- 
 tain George Mergy, who, at the first war, 
 |V abjured his faith ? " 
 
 " ^ Mergy dropped his head sadly ; and though 
 
 his lips moved his reply was inaudible. 
 
 " ' Tis a brave soldier," went on the Admiral ; " but what 
 
 is courage without the fear of God ? Young man, you have 
 
 in )our familv an example to shun as well as a pattern to 
 
 lollow." 
 
 " I will try to imitate my brother's brave deeds, and not 
 his perversion." 
 
 "Well then, Bernard, come and see me often, and count 
 
 N
 
 92 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 on me as your tricnd. I he city you are in is no L;ood school 
 of morals ; but I liope to carry )ou soon wliere there will 
 be glory to earn." 
 
 Mergy bowed respectfully, and fell back into the circle 
 which surrounded the Admiral. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Coligny, resuming the conversation 
 which Mergy's entrance had interrupted, " I hear good news 
 from all sides. The assassins at Rouen have been punished." 
 
 " But not those at Toulouse," said an old minister ot 
 gloomy and fanatic aspect. 
 
 "You mistake, sir; I have just heard the news of their 
 punishment. Moreover, the mi.xed commission' is already 
 appointed at Toulouse. Every day his majesty gives proof 
 that his justice is equal for all." 
 
 The old minister shook his head doubtingly, and another 
 greybeard, clothed in black velvet, cried, " His justice is 
 equal ! Yes : Charles and his worthy mother would like to 
 strike all down — Chatillons, Montmorencys and Guises all 
 together — with a single blow." 
 
 " Speak more respectfully ot your King, M. de Bonissan, ' 
 said Coligny sternly. " Let us, 1 pray you, at last forget our 
 old grudges. Give none cause to say that the Catholics 
 practise better than we do the divine precept of forgetful- 
 ness of injuries." 
 
 " By the bones of my father ! " muttered Bonissan, " they 
 have the easier task ! My memory does not so easily let 
 slip twenty-three martyrs of my kin." 
 
 He was speaking thus bitterly when an old and broken- 
 
 ' By the treaty which ended the third civil war, chambers of justice had 
 been estabhshed in several provincial parliaments, half of whose members 
 professed Protestantism. These chambers were to try causes between Pro- 
 testants and Catholics.
 
 ./ PARTY LEADER. 93 
 
 looking man, of repulsive aspect, wrapped in a worn grey 
 mantle, entered the gallery, threaded the press, and gave a 
 sealed paper to Coligny. 
 
 "Who are you ?" said the Admiral, without breaking the 
 seal. 
 
 "A friend," replied the old man hoarsely; antl he left the 
 room at once. 
 
 " I saw that man come out of the Hf)tel de Guise this 
 very morning," said one gentleman. 
 
 " He is a wizard," said another. 
 
 " A poisoner," cried a third. 
 
 " The Duke of Guise has sent him to poison the .Admiral." 
 
 " To poison me ? " cried Coligny shrugging his shoulders. 
 " To poison me in a letter ! " 
 
 " Have you forgotten the Queen of Navarre's gloves ?"' 
 cried Bonissan. 
 
 " I no more believe in the poisoned gloves than in the 
 poisoned letter ; but I do believe that the Uuke of Guise is 
 incapable of such baseness." 
 
 He was about to open the letter, when Bonissan tlung 
 himself upon him. and seized his hands, crjing — 
 
 " Do not unseal it, or you will inhale some mortal odour. ' 
 
 All the company crowded round the Admiral, who strove 
 to sfet rid of Bonis.san. 
 
 " I see a black vapour arising Irom the letter!" cried one. 
 
 And the general cry was, " Throw it away ! " 
 
 "Unhand me, madmen!" said the Admiral struggling; 
 and as they wrestled with him the paper fell on the flcor. 
 
 ' " Her death," says D'.Vubigne, " was caused by poison, communicated 
 to the brain by perfumed gloves of the manufacture of Messer Rene the 
 Florentine, a wretch since execrated even by the Queen's enemies.' — 
 Hist. Uiiiv , II. ii.
 
 94 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 ftS5£ 
 
 
 
 
 ^»llt^^ 
 
 "Samuel, my good fellow," cried Bonissan, "show your- 
 self a faithful servant. Open the packet, and do not give it 
 
 to your master till you are sure that 
 there is nothing wrong with it." 
 
 The commission did not seem to 
 be to the steward's taste ; 
 but Mergy, without hesi- 
 tating, picked up the 
 letter and broke the seal. 
 The circle at once fell 
 widely away from him, 
 
 man retirino- as il 
 a mine were about to be 
 sprung in the 
 middle of the 
 room. Yet 
 no evil va- 
 pour came 
 
 forth, and no 
 one even 
 sneezed. Some 
 rather dirty 
 paper, with a few lines of writing 
 on it, formed the sole contents of the terrible packet. And 
 the same individuals who had been the first to retire were 
 also the first to come forward with smiling faces as soon as 
 all appearance of danger had vanished. 
 
 " What means this insolence ? " cried Coligny angrily, as 
 he freed himself at length from Bonissan's grasp. " Open 
 a letter addressed to me ! " .
 
 .-/ PARTY LEADER. 95 
 
 " My Lord Admiral, if it had happened that tliis letter 
 contained any iwison subtle enough to kill by inlialation, it 
 were better that a youth like myself fell victim, than you 
 whose life is so precious to the religion. " 
 
 A murmur of admiration rose around him. Coligny 
 pressed his hand with much feeling, and after a moment's 
 silence said kindly — ■ 
 
 "As you have done the deed of unsealing this letter, read 
 us the contents." 
 
 Mergy at once read as follows : 
 
 " The western sky glows with bloody light. Stars have 
 fallen from the firmament, and flaming swords have been 
 seen in the air. All but blind men must perceive what 
 these things portend. Gaspard ! buckle on sword and 
 spur, or in a few days' time the gleds shall glut themselves 
 with thy flesh." 
 
 " By the 'gleds' he means the Guises!" said Bonissan. 
 " G for G." ' 
 
 The Admiral raised his shoulders disdainfully, ami no 
 one spoke; but it was clear that the prophecy liad made 
 a certain impression on the company. 
 
 " There be many folk," said Coligny coolly, " at Paris 
 who busy themselves with folly. Do not men say that 
 there are some ten thousand rascals here who live by fortune- 
 telling ? " 
 
 " The warning, such as it is, is not to be despised," said 
 a captain of infantry. " The Duke of Guise has said openly 
 
 ' [It was necessary to be unfaithful here, the play on gcai ("jay," not 
 exactly "gled " or " kite,') and the lelter^^' as pronounced in French, being 
 unmanageable in English. I have therefore changed the bird, and para- 
 phrased Bonissan's " le nom d'un oiseau est mis Ih au lieu de la lettre ipii 
 se prononce de meme."J — Translator's note.
 
 96 
 
 C/fKOX/Cl.ES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 enough that he sliall never sleep sound till he has passed 
 his sword through jour body." 
 
 "It is so easy," addetl Bonissan, " for an assassin to oljtain 
 admission to you ! Were I in your place, 1 would never 
 go to the Louvre without a corslet on." 
 
 " Go to, comrade," said the Admiral. " It is not with oltl 
 soldiers like us that as.sa.ssins meddle : they iear us more 
 than we fear them." 
 
 He talked for some time longer about the bdanders 
 campaign and the affairs of the religion. Divers persons 
 brought him petitions to pre.sent to the King, and he re- 
 ceived them all kindly, addressing .some affable remark to 
 each suitor. At length, as ten o'clock struck, he called ior 
 his hat and gloves, to go to the Louvre, and some of the 
 company took leave ; but the greater number went with 
 him, to serve at once as suite and escort. 
 
 nrmti' f^ixi 
 
 

 
 ■"^^ *^^ftf' 
 
 'tk 
 
 s> (. l-»J 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ^T^HE captain had no sooner caught sight of his brother 
 A. than he cried out — 
 
 " Well, have you seen Gaspard the Eirst ? How did he 
 receive you ?" 
 
 " With kindness that I shall never forget." 
 
 " I am very glad of it." 
 
 " Oh, George, what a man ! " 
 
 " What a man ? I take it he is a man much like the rest 
 of us ; with, let us sav, a little more ambition and a little
 
 98 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 more faculty of endurance than my footman, not to mention 
 the difference of their origin. I\I. de Chatillon's birth has 
 done something for him." 
 
 " Did his birth teach liim the art of war or make him the 
 first captain of our time ? " 
 
 "Why no: though his proficiency in that respect has 
 not saved him from being always beaten. But there, let 
 us talk of something else. You have seen the Admiral 
 to-day : 'tis very well. Give every man his due of honour : 
 and you had to begin by paying your respects to M. de 
 Chatillon. Now, will you come and hunt to-morrow.'' If 
 you will, I will introduce you there to someone who 
 is also worth knowing ; that is to say, Charles, King of 
 France." 
 
 " What ! You wish me to go to the royal hunt ? " 
 
 " I do : and you shall there see the prettiest ladies as well 
 as the finest horses of the Court. The meet is at the 
 Chateau de Madrid, and we must be there early to-morrow 
 morning. I will give you my dapple grey, and I warrant 
 you there will be no need of spurring to keep up with the 
 hounds." 
 
 At this moment a lackey gave Mergy a letter, which one 
 of the King's pages had just brought. Mergy opened it, 
 and his brother's surprise equalled his own when they found 
 enclosed a cornet's commission, drawn up in regular form, 
 and with the King's seal attached. 
 
 " Plague take us!" said George ; " here is a prompt mark 
 of favour! But why the devil does Charles IX., who is 
 not aware of your existence, send you a cornet's commis- 
 sion ?" 
 
 " I think," said Mergy, "that I owe it to the Admiral." 
 And he told his brother the story of the mysterious letter
 
 A PARTY LEADER. 
 
 99 
 
 in opening which he had shown so much courage. The 
 captain laughed consumediy at the end of the adventure, 
 and rallied him on it without mercy.
 
 CHA FT KR VIII. 
 
 A CONVKR.SATKIX DKTWEEN THE READER AND THE AUTHOR. 
 
 AH ! Mr. Author, what an opportunit)- have jou here 
 of drawing portraits — and such portraits ! You are 
 going to take us to the Chateau de Madrid, in the midst of 
 the Court — and such a Court ! Will you exhibit it thoroughly 
 to us, French-Italian as it was .'' Will you pass all its no- 
 tables, one after the other, before us ? How much we shall 
 learn, and how interesting a day spent among so many great 
 personages will be ! "
 
 I02 CJfRONFCLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Alas ! master reader, what is this that you ask ? I wish 
 I had the talent for writing a history of France : in that case 
 I shoulil not spend my time in writing romances. But tell 
 me why you wish me to introduce you to people who have 
 no part to play in my story ?" 
 
 " But it is a shame of you not to make them play a part 
 in it! You drag me off to the year 1572, and then you 
 want to sneak out of giving the portraits of all these great 
 men. Come, come, no shilly-shallying ; begin at once. I 
 will tell you how : ' The door of tlic icithdraii.'inc; room 
 opened, and there appeared 
 
 " But, good reader, there were no withdrawing rooms at 
 the Chateau de Madrid. Salons only began " 
 
 " Well, well — then : ' The great hall loas eroa'ded, and 
 among others might hai'c been perceived 
 
 " Perhaps you will be good enough to say who ?" 
 
 "Why, of course, Charles IX. in the first place." 
 
 " And in the second ?" 
 
 "Soft: not so fast. Tell me first what the King wore; 
 then sketch his person, and then his character. That is the 
 regular path that every novelist has to tread nowadays." 
 
 "What he wore? It was a huntintr dress, with a great 
 horn slung round his neck. ' 
 
 " You are laconic." 
 
 " As for his looks, let us see it would be much better 
 
 for you to go and see his bust at the Angouleme Museum, 
 Room 2, Number 98." 
 
 " But, good Mr. Author, I live in the country ; and would 
 you make nie come to Paris on [nirpose to see a bust of 
 Charles IX. ?" 
 
 " W'ell then, imagine a young man fairly well made, but 
 with his head set somewhat deep between his shoulders. His
 
 CONVERSATION BETWEEN READER AND AUT/IOR. lo;, 
 
 ^' 
 
 neck is stretched out, aiul his forehead leans 
 forwari,! in an awkward lasliion ; his nose is 
 ratlier thick, his Hps are thin and long;, and 
 the upper one protrudes ; his complexion is 
 pale, and his large greenish eyes never look 
 his interlocutor in the face. But you will not 
 see ' Saint Bartholomew,' or anything like 
 
 ^ ice. I'ar from 
 it : his expression is only rather 
 stupid and wistful, not harsh or 
 ferocious. You may 
 picture it well enou 
 by fancying a youn 
 Englishman who 
 makes his ap- 
 pearance in a 
 large drawing- 
 room where 
 everyone is sit- 
 ting down. He , 
 walks through a 
 double row of 
 well-dressed women, 
 who are silent as he 
 passes ; he entangles 
 
 himself with^ the_ c H A R l.j£^ 
 dress of one, jostles 
 another's chair, and has 
 
 the utmost difficulty in ^_^ 
 
 reaching the lady of the 
 
 house. Then, and not till then 
 
 he sees that in getting out of his carriage he has 
 
 / n^ 
 
 'U U 
 
 _--y 
 
 ■/ 
 
 s^, 
 
 
 ■AMAiti'iS
 
 I04 
 
 C//A'O.V/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 iiuKldied the sleeve ot his coat against the wheel. You must 
 have seen faces aghast in this fashion ; perhaps, indeed, 
 
 you may have seen )our own re- 
 flected in some mirror before the 
 habit of going into society made 
 you indifferent to the effect of 
 
 your entrance " 
 
 " And Catherine de Medicis?" 
 " Catherine de Medicis ! Deuce 
 take me it I had so miich as 
 thought of her. I think I shall 
 never have to mention her name 
 again; but if you must know, she 
 was a stout wonian, well enough 
 l)reserved, as the saying is, with 
 a thick nose, and lips pinched 
 like those of a person who feels 
 the first approach ot sea sickness. 
 Her eyes are half shut, she is 
 constantly yawning, and her voice 
 takes the same tone whether it 
 says, ' Who will rid me of that 
 hateful ISearnese woman .^^ ' or 
 ' Madeleine, give my Naples lap- 
 dog some sugared cream.' " 
 
 " Good : but please put some- 
 thing more noteworthy in her 
 mouth. She has just (so they say) 
 had Jeanne d'Albret poisoned, and 
 there ought to be some sign of that. 
 " Not at all ; for if any signs showed, what would become 
 of her famous power of dissimulation ? Besides, it my
 
 CONVERSATION BETWEEN READER AND AUTHOR 105 
 
 information is correct, she talkeil of nothini^ but tlie weather 
 all that day." 
 
 "And Henry I\'.? and Marguerite of Navarre? Show 
 VIS Henry, the brave, gallant, kind Henry; show us Mar- 
 guerite slipping a billet into a page's hand, while her hus 
 band, for his part, stjueezes a maid of honour's fingers." 
 
 "As for Henr_\-, no one could guess in tli.it young 
 featherhead the future hero and King of France. lie has 
 forgotten his mother, but a fortnight dead ; and is talking to 
 nobody hut a pricker, with whom he holds endless converse 
 about the slot of the stag who is about ti) be started. I will 
 spare you that, especially as I hope you are no sportsman." 
 
 " And Marguerite ?" 
 
 "She was not well that day, and kept her room." 
 
 "A neat way of getting rid of her! But the Duke ol 
 Anjou, and Conde, and Guise, and Tavannes, Retz, La 
 Rochetoucauld, Teligny, Thore, Meru, and all the rest ?" 
 
 " You seem to know more about them than I do. I am 
 going to talk about my friend Mergy. " 
 
 "Sir, I am sorry to perceive that I shall not fintl what 1 
 sought in this story ot \ours." 
 
 " RealK'. 1 am very nuu'h afraid nou will not."
 
 Cf f\s p f^nu \)i i-oiiCMV itic.N(i. a o t
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE GLOVE. 
 
 "There fell :i slipper [ylove] from the right 
 hand of my Lady Blanche (from the left 
 it had been of no consequence), and made 
 Love let fly his shaft at the hidalgos." — LorE 
 DE Vega, El gttantc lU Dona BlaiHa. 
 
 THE Court was at the Chateau de Madrid, and the 
 Queen-mother, surrounded by her ladies, was in her 
 chamber, expecting the King to come and breakfast with her 
 before getting in the saddle. The King himself, followed by 
 the princes, was slowly crossing a gallery where all the 
 gentlemen who were about to follow the hunt were assembled.
 
 loS CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 He listened with an inattentive air to the speeches which 
 his courtiers made to him, frequently answering with 
 abruptness. As he passed before the two brothers the 
 captain bent one knee and presented the new cornet. 
 Mergy, with a profound bow, thanked his majesty tor the 
 honour which he had received before doing anjthing to 
 deserve it. 
 
 " Ah ! you are he of whom my father the Admiral .spoke. 
 You are Captain George's brother ?" 
 
 " Yes, sire." 
 
 "Are you Catholic or Huguenot?" 
 
 " I am a Protestant, sire." 
 
 " I but asked you for curiosity's sake. The devil take 
 me if I care of what religion those are who serve me well." 
 With which notable words the King turned into the Queen's 
 apartments. 
 
 A few moments afterwards a bevy of ladies spread them- 
 .selves about the gallery, seemingly sent to make the time 
 appear less long to the intending riders. I shall mention 
 but a single beauty in a Court fertile in beauties — the Coun- 
 tess de Turgis, who plays a great part in this story. She wore 
 a riding-habit of a dashing and elegant fashion, and had not 
 yet put on her mask. Her complexion, of dazzling white- 
 ness, Init tinged by no colour anywhere, set off her jet-black 
 hair ; and her arched eyebrows, just meeting in the midst, 
 gave to her expression an air of hardness, or rather of pride, 
 without destroying the attraction of her features as a whole. 
 The first impression that her large blue eyes gave was one 
 of haught) disdain ; but when slie talked with interest the 
 pLipils were soon seen to dilate like a cat's, her glance lighted 
 up, and it was difficult even for a hardened coxcomb to 
 resist their fascination for any length of time.
 
 THE CLOVE. 
 
 109 
 
 " Look at tht; Countess tic Turgis ! How 
 beautitul slic is to-day!" the courtiers mut- 
 tered to each other, pressing forward to sec 
 her better. Mergy, who happened to be full 
 in her path, was so struck with her beauty 
 that he remained motionless, and had no 
 thought of making way for her till the coun- 
 tess's wide silken sleeves touched his 
 doublet. 
 
 She noticed his emotion, perhaps with 
 pleasure, and deigned for a moment to 
 fix her lovely eyes on his, which fell at 
 once, while his cheeks reddenec 
 The countess smiled, and as 
 passed, she dropped one of 
 her gloves in front of our 
 hero, who, still en- 
 tranced and motion- 
 less, never thought 
 of picking it up. 
 Immediately a ■ 
 fair young man 
 (none other 
 than Com- 
 niinges), who 
 happened to be 
 behind Mergy, 
 pushed rudely past him to seize 
 the glove, which, after kissing it 
 devoutly, he returned to Ma- 
 dame de Turgis. She did not 
 thank him, but turned to Mergy,
 
 no CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 gazed at him for a time witli an air of withering contempt, 
 and then, noticing Captain George near him, " Captain," 
 said she, " tell me where this tall simpleton comes from ? to 
 judge by his courtesy he must be some Huguenot." 
 
 A general burst of laughter at the remark completed the 
 confusion of its unlucky object. 
 
 " 'Tis my brother, lady," replied George, not quite so loud. 
 "He has been at Paris but three days ; and on my honour 
 he is not more awkward than Lannoy was before you were 
 good enough to take him in hand." 
 
 The countess blushed a little. " Captain," said she, " that 
 is an unkind jest. Speak no ill of the dead. But give me 
 your hand ; I have a message to you from a lady who has 
 somewhat to complain of you." 
 
 The captain took her hand ceremoniously, and conducted 
 her to a window seat at some distance ; but as she went she 
 turned back once more to look at Mergy. 
 
 He, still dazzled by the beautiful apparition at which he 
 burned to gaze, and to which he did not dare to lift his eyes, 
 felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw the 
 Baron de Vaudreuil, who took his hand and led him aside, 
 that they might, as he said, talk without fear of interruption. 
 
 " My dear friend," said the baron, " you are quite a new- 
 comer in this region, and it is possible that you do not yet 
 know its rules of behaviour." 
 
 Mergy looked at him with astonished eyes. 
 
 " Your brother is busy and cannot advise you ; but if you 
 will allow me I will endeavour to supply his place." 
 
 " I am ignorant, sir, what occasion " 
 
 " You have been grievously insulted ; and, seeing you in 
 a thoughtful posture, I doubt not that you are musing on 
 the means of vengeance."
 
 THE GLOVE. m 
 
 "Vengeance! on whom?" said Mergy, blushing to the 
 whites of his eyes. 
 
 " Did not little Comminges jostle you rudely just now ? 
 The whole Court saw the business, and expects you to take 
 it seriously." 
 
 ■' But," saitl Mergy, " in so crowded a hall it is nothing 
 wonderful that someone should have pushed me without 
 intending it." 
 
 " M. de Merg)-, I have not the honour to know you 
 well, but your brother is my intimate friend, and he can 
 tell you that J practise, as well as I can, the divine precept 
 as to forgiving injuries. I should be very sorry to urge 
 )-ou into an unnecessary quarrel ; but at the same time I 
 think it my duty to tell you that Comminges did not push 
 you by accident. He pushed )ou because he wished to 
 insult you ; and if he had not pushed you he would still have 
 given you cause of offence ; for by picking up Madame de 
 Turgis's glove he intruded upon a privilege which belonged 
 to you. The glove was at your feet, therefore you only 
 had the right to pick it up. Besides, you have only to turn 
 your head, and you will see Comminges at the end of the 
 gallery pointing the finger of scorn at you." 
 
 Mergy turned, and did perceive Comminges in the midst 
 of a knot of young men telling some story to which they 
 listened with interest. Nothing, it is true, showed that this 
 group was talking of him ; but as his charitable adviser 
 spoke Mergy felt his heart filled with violent rage. 
 
 " I will meet him after the hunt," said he, " and I will 
 discover " 
 
 " Never postpone a good resolution of this kind. Besides, 
 it is much less of an offence to God to challenge your 
 adversary immediately after the insult than to do it when
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 you have had time tor reflection. It you 
 arrange a meetint;' in the heat of the 
 moment, that is only a venial 
 sin ; and if you fight '"""" 
 
 afterwards, it is only to 
 
 
 Id 
 
 escape a much heavier f^V;)vH^^l \rv.''' V ^^\i\4!' ''. - 
 crini, that of being false ^~fMl^S<kM'> 
 to your word. But I beg 
 your pardon ; I had 
 forgot that I speak to a 
 
 f^4 
 
 
 
 
 10. 
 
 
 
 ^-i 
 
 
 
 
 -^ '■ 
 
 
 ^= 
 
 M 
 
 ^ 
 
 r - ■■ 
 
 J ^- ^ 
 
 ." "■■'_ 
 
 ' i;- 
 
 /'^ c 
 
 -i-^..;'' 
 
 i\ 
 
 IVo" 
 
 [^-''' ■ 
 
 '" ~^ 
 
 --' -H 
 
 -' - 
 
 *^ 
 
 -«--=- 
 
 — 
 
 
 C" ' 
 
 ^ - 
 
 
 "— ^~ 
 
 — 
 
 
 -^ ^/^S -s'^^ ^iTT/^i " ''^. ^ 
 -Vv,,^^./*' -O ,■;../ ^..-s/'**-- Protestant. Anyhow, arrange your 
 
 '^">B5^''»-ffr'*''***' meeting; I will bring him to speech 
 
 ;:~^i-^ of you at once." 
 
 V 
 
 / 
 
 " I trust he will not refuse me the apologies 
 to which I am entitletl."
 
 Tirr. GLOVE. 113 
 
 " Do not deceive yourself, my i^^ood friend : Coniminges 
 lias never pronounced the words ' I was wroni,^' But all 
 the same, he is a man of the nicest honour, and will give 
 you every possible satisfaction." 
 
 Mergy did what he could to choke down all emotion and 
 to assume a careless air. 
 
 " If I have been insulted," said he, " I must have satis- 
 faction ; and whatever it is I shall know how to insist on it." 
 
 " 'Tis well, my hero ; I am glad to see your pluck ; for 
 you cannot be ignorant that Comminges is one of our best 
 swordsmen. Paith ! 'tis a gentleman whose weapons are 
 much at home in his hand. He learnt of Brambilla at 
 Rome; and Petit-Jean declines fencing with him any more." 
 
 And as he spoke he looked keenly at Mergy's face ; a 
 face somewhat pale, but, as it seemed, rather with wrath at 
 the insult than with fear at its consequences. 
 
 " I should like to be your second in the business ; but not 
 to mention that to-morrow is my day for taking the sacra- 
 ment, I am pledged to M. de Rheincy, and I cannot draw 
 sword with anyone else." ' 
 
 " I thank you, sir ; but if we come to e.xtremities my 
 brother will be my second." 
 
 " The captain is a very experienced gentleman in this 
 kind of aftair. Meanwhile I will bring Comminges to you 
 for an explanation." 
 
 Mergy bowed, and turning towards the wall, he busied 
 himself in arranorincr the terms of the challentre and in settling 
 his countenance. There is a certain graceful manner of 
 bidding defiance, which, like a good many other graceful 
 habits, can only be learnt by practice. Now our hero was 
 
 ' It was a point of honour for a raffinc not to enter into any new ijuarrel 
 wliile he had one unsettled.
 
 114 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 a beginner, and he therefore feU a httle awkwardness ; but 
 for the moment he was much less afraid of receivhig a sword- 
 thrust than of saying something unbecoming a gentleman. 
 He had, however, scarcely hit upon words at once reso- 
 lute and polite, when the Baron de Vaudreuil, putting his 
 hand on his arm, sent them straight out of his head. 
 
 Comminges, hat in hand, and bowing with very insolent 
 politeness, said to him in a honej-ed tone, " You wish to 
 speak to me, sir ? " 
 
 Mergy's face Hushed with anger ; and he answered at 
 once, more firmly than he could have hoped, " You have 
 behaved to me in an insolent manner, and I demand satis- 
 faction." 
 
 Vaudreuil nodded his head in approval ; but Comminges, 
 at once resuming an upright posture, and setting (as was 
 then proper in such cases) fist on hip, observed with much 
 gravity : " You present yourself then, sir, as challenger : 
 and I as challenged have the choice of arms." 
 
 " Take those which please you best." 
 
 Comminges appeared to reflect for a moment. 
 
 " The tuck," ' he said, " is a good weapon, but it makes 
 ugly wounds ; and at our age," he added, smiling, " one 
 does not care to show a scar all over the face to one's 
 mistress. The rapier makes but a small hole, but 'twill 
 serve," and he smiled again. " Rapier and dagger, then, 
 for me." 
 
 "Very well," said Mergy; and he made as if he would 
 depart. 
 
 " One moment, " said Vaudreuil ; " you have not agreed on 
 a meeting-place." 
 
 ' Estoc, a large double-edged sword.
 
 THE GLOVE. 115 
 
 " All the Court goes to the Pre-aux-Clercs," said Com- 
 minges ; "and if, sir, you do not prefer another place " 
 
 " The Pre-aux-Clercs be it." 
 
 "Then for the hour ? I shall not rise till eight o'clock, 
 for private reasons which you will understand. Nor do I 
 sleep at home to-night, and I could hardly be at the Pre 
 before nine." 
 
 " At nine o'clock, then." 
 
 As Mergy turned his eyes away, he saw close to him the 
 Countess de Turgis, who had left the captain in talk with 
 another lady ; and it will be easily understood that at the 
 sight of the fair causer of these harms, our hero charged his 
 countenance with a double dose of solemnity and affected 
 indifference. 
 
 "For some time past," said V'audreuil, "the fashion has 
 been to fight in scarlet drawers. If you have not got a 
 pair ready made, I can lend you one. They make neater 
 work : blood does not show on them." 
 
 " That seems to me childish," said Comminges ; and 
 Mergy smiled a rather awkward assent. 
 
 " Well then, my friends," said the baron, who seemed 
 quite in his element, " we have nothing more to do than to 
 arrancje the seconds and thirds for the meeting." ^ 
 
 " M. de Mergy," said Comminges, " is a newcomer at 
 Court, and he might have some difficulty in finding a 
 third. So I will be content with a second only, to oblige 
 him." 
 
 Mergy, with some little difficulty, forced his lips into a 
 sort of smile. 
 
 " Courtesy can go no farther," said the baron. " Indeed, 
 
 ' The seconds were often not mere spectators, but fouglit themselves. 
 The phrases " to second " " to third " someone were in use. 
 
 O
 
 ii6 CHRONICLES Of CHARLES IX. 
 
 it is a real pleasures to havt; to do with a gL-iitleman so 
 obliging as M. de Comminges." 
 
 " As you will need a rapier of the same length as mine," 
 continued Comminges, " I recommend you Laurent, at the 
 Golden Sun, in the Rue de la Ferronnerie. He is the best 
 armourer in town. Tell him that I have sent you, and he 
 will serve you well." 
 
 As he finished, he turned on his heel, and retiretl with 
 much calmness to the knot ot young men he had just left. 
 
 " I congratulate you, M. Bernard," said Vaudreuil ; " you 
 managed your challenge excellently. Tis well — 'tis very 
 well ! Comminges is not accustomed to hear such language. 
 He is feared like a pestilence, especially since he killed tall 
 Can iliac ; for as for .St. Michel, whom he also killed two 
 months ago, there was no great honour in that. St. Michel 
 could not fence much; while Canillac had already killed his 
 man five or six times without a scratch. He had studied at 
 Naples under Borelli ; and they said that Lansac on his 
 deathbed had left him the secret of the pass with which he 
 did so much mischief. To tell the truth, though," added he 
 as if to himself, " Canillac had plundered the church of 
 Au.xerre and cast the host to earth, so there is no wonder 
 that he was punished."' 
 
 Mergy, who did not find these particulars amusing, felt 
 nevertheless constrained to keep up the talk, for fear that 
 some suspicion unfavourable to his gallantry should occur 
 to Vaudreuil. 
 
 " Happily," said he, " I never plundered a church, and in 
 my whole life have never even touched the host, so I have 
 the less to fear." 
 
 " One counsel more, though. When you cross swords 
 with Comminges, take special care of one of his tricks, which
 
 THE GLOVE. 117 
 
 cost Captain Tomaso his life. He cried out that his sword- 
 point was broken, and Tomaso raised liis own sword above 
 his liead, expecting a cut ; but Coniminges's blade was 
 sound enough, for it went up to a foot from the hilt in 
 Tomaso's breast, which he had left unguarded, not expecting 
 the point. P)Ut as you are to use rapiers, there will be less 
 danger of this." 
 
 " I will do my best." 
 
 " Ah ! l)ut listen. Mind you choose a dagger with a 
 stout shell ; it is invaluable for parrying. Do )'ou see the 
 scar on my left hand ? I got that by going out without a 
 dagger one day. Young Tallard and I quarrelled, and I 
 was near losing my left hand for lack of a poniard." 
 
 " Was Tallard wounded ?" asked Mergy absently. 
 
 " I killed him, thanks to a vow which I made to Mon- 
 seigneur Saint Maurice, my patron. But have some lint 
 and some linen about you ; 'twill do no harm, for a man is 
 not always killed out of hand. And it would be well to 
 have your sword put on the altar during mass-time. But 
 there, again, you are a Protestant. One word more : have 
 no punctilio about breaking ground, but give him as much 
 exercise as possible. He is not well-breathed ; pump him: 
 and when you get the chance, a good lunge in the chest. 
 and your man is done for." 
 
 He might have gone on a long time with this excellent 
 advice, if a loud flourish on the horns had not given warning 
 that the King was about to take horse. The door of the 
 Queen's apartments opened, and Their Majesties, in hunting 
 costume, made for the entrance steps. 
 
 Captain George, who had just left his lady, came to his 
 brother, and clapping him on the shoulder, said cheerfully: 
 
 " By the mass ! )ou are a lucky rascal ! Do you see
 
 ii.S 
 
 CHROXICf.ES or CHARLES IX. 
 
 this vouny man with his kitten's wliiskers ? He no sooner 
 shows himself than all the women are mad after him. Know 
 you that your fair countess has been talking to me about 
 you for a full quarter of an hour ? Come, pluck up your 
 spirits ! Keep at her side during the hunt, and be as 
 gallant as you can. But what the devil is the matter with 
 you .^ You look ill, and your face is as long as a minister's 
 at the stake. Be merry, man, confound you ! " 
 
 " I do not care much about the hunt, and I should 
 like " 
 
 "If you do not hunt," whispered X'audreuil, "Comminges 
 will think you fear to meet him." 
 
 " Come along then," said Mergy, passing his hand over 
 his heated brow, and reflecting that he had better wait till 
 the hunt was over before telling his adventure to his brother. 
 " 'Twould be a shame," thought he, " if Madame de Turgls 
 thouoht me afraid, or if she believed that the idea of a duel 
 to come spoilt my pleasure in the sport." 
 
 "Srrlr^iii-^^^-fc.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE HUNT. 
 
 "The very butcher of a silk button, 
 Ti duellist, .1 duellist, a gentleman of 
 the very first house— of the first and 
 second cause : ah ! the immortal pas- 
 sado ! the punto reverse T^ — Shake- 
 speare, Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 A GREAT number of 
 ladies and orentlemen, 
 richly dressed and splendidly \|/ ^ L 
 mounted, were passing in all i \u 
 directions about the court of the 
 chateau. The blare of horns, the ba)' ^ of the hounds, the 
 loud jests of tile riders, made up a hubbub delightful to
 
 I20 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 the ears of a sportsman and hideous to thoss of every other 
 human beiui^r. 
 
 Mergy mechanically followed his brother into the court- 
 yard, and, hardly knowing what he did, found himself near the 
 fair countess, already masked, and mounted on a fiery jennet, 
 which pawed and champed the bit with impatience. But 
 she, on a horse which would have tasked the full attention 
 of an ordinary rider, seemed as much at her ease as though 
 she were seated in an arm-chair at home. The captain 
 made his way to her on the pretext of tightening the jennet's 
 curb. 
 
 " Here is my brother," said he to the Amazon in a half- 
 whisper, liut loud enough for Mergy to catch his words. 
 " Be kind to the poor boy ; he has been hard hit ever since 
 the day he saw you at the Louvre." 
 
 " I have forgotten his name already," she said, rather 
 shortly ; " what is it .-* " 
 
 " It is Bernard. Observe, madame, that his scarl is of the 
 same colour as your ribbons." 
 
 " Can he ride .'' " 
 
 " You shall see." 
 
 He bowed, and hastened off to the side of one of the 
 Oueen's ladies, to whom for some time past he had been 
 paying his attentions; and there, leaning over his saddlebow, 
 with his hand on the fair one's bridle, he soon forgot all 
 about his brother and his beautiful but haughty companion. 
 
 "You know Comminges then, M. de Mergy.''" asked 
 Madame de Turiris. 
 
 " I, madame ? very little," answered he hesitatingly. 
 
 " Yet you were talking to him just now." 
 
 " It was for the first time." 
 
 " I think I guess what you said to him," replied she; and
 
 THE HUNT. 12. 
 
 her eyes, ihrouoh her mask, seemed to read to the bottom 
 of Mergy's soul. 
 
 Here, to his great satisfaction, for the conversation em- 
 barrassed him alarmingly, a lady interrupted it by addressing 
 the countess. But he continued to follow her, hardly know- 
 ing why ; perhaps he thought it might annoy Comminges, 
 who was watching him from a distance. 
 
 They left the chateau : a stag was started, and as he 
 plunged into tlu; forest all the hunt followed him. Mergy 
 observed, not without surprise, the skill which Madame dc 
 Turgis showed in managing her horse, and the boldness 
 with which she urged him across every obstacle in her waj'. 
 He owed it only to the goodness of his own barb that he 
 was not left behind ; but to his great annoyance the Count 
 de Comminges, as well mounted as himself, also accom- 
 panied her, and despite the speed of a headlong gallop, 
 despite his own special attention to the chase itself, fre- 
 quently spoke to the fair horsewoman, while Mergy silently 
 envied his light and careless deportment, and especially his 
 skill in saying pleasant nothings which he thought must 
 amuse the countess as much as they annoyed himself. As 
 for other matters, the two rivals, urged by a noble emulation, 
 found neither hedges high enough nor ditches wide enough 
 to stop them, and risked both their necks twenty times over. 
 
 Suddenly the countess, leaving the main body of the hunt, 
 struck into a ride diverging from that which the King and 
 his followino^ had entered. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " cried Comminges, " you are 
 going wrong : do you not hear the horns and hounds on the 
 other side ? " 
 
 " Well ; take the other ride if ) on like. Who prevents 
 you ? "
 
 122 C//RO.V/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 Comniingcs made no answer, and followed her, as did 
 Mergy. But when they had gone some hundreds of yards 
 up the ride the countess slackened her pace, a movement 
 which was imitated at once by Comminges to the right and 
 Mergy to the left of her. 
 
 " That is a good charger of yours, M. de Mergy," said 
 Comminges ; " he has not turned a hair." 
 
 " 'Tis a barb which my brother bought from a .Spaniard. 
 You may see the scar of a sword-wound he got at Montcon- 
 tour." 
 
 " Have you served yourself ? " said the countess to Mergy. 
 
 " No, madame." 
 
 " Then you have never received a shot-wound } " 
 
 " Never, madame." 
 
 " Nor a sword-thrust ? " 
 
 " Nor that either." 
 
 Mergy thought he noticed a sniile on her face. As for 
 Comminges, he pulled his moustache with a sarcastic air. 
 
 " Nothing is more becoming to a young gentleman than a 
 pretty v/ound," said he. " Do you not think so, madame ? " 
 
 " Yes ; if it is well won." 
 
 " What do you mean by well won 1 " 
 
 " I mean that a wound received on the battle-field is 
 "lorious. But it is different in a duel ; I know nothintj; 
 more despicable than that." 
 
 " I am to suppose that M. de Mergy had some conversa 
 tion with you before getting to horse.''" 
 
 " No," said the countess drily. 
 
 Mergy rode his horse close to Comminges " Sir," 
 whispered he, " as soon as we have rejoined the hunt we can 
 turn into a thicket ; and I shall ho[)e to prove to )ou there 
 that I have no desire ol avoiding?- our meetino."
 
 THE HUNT. 123 
 
 C\)inining'e.s looked at him willi a mixture of pity and 
 approval. 
 
 " Good ; I am very well disposed to believe you," an- 
 swered he. " But as for your suggestion, I cannot accede to 
 it. We are not nobodies to fight by ourselves ; and our 
 friends who are to be of the party would never forgive us for 
 not waiting tor them." 
 
 "As \ou like, sir," said Mergy, and he rode once moreui) 
 to the side of Madame de Turgis, who.sc horse had made 
 some paces in front. She rode with her head bowed on her 
 breast, and seemed lost in thought ; nor did the trio exchange 
 a word till they reached an open space at the end of the 
 ride into which they had struck. 
 
 " Is not that a bugle blast .''" asked Comminges. 
 
 " I think it comes from the copse on our left," said Mergy. 
 
 " Yes, it is the horn ; I am sure of it now ; and a Bologna 
 h(irn too. May I perish if it is not my friend Pompignan's. 
 Vou would hardly believe, M. de Mergy, the difterence 
 between a true Bologna horn and those which our wretched 
 Paris craftsmen make." 
 
 " That particular one certainly sends its sound far." 
 
 "And what a sound! How full! The very hounds as 
 they hear it might forget that they have run ten leagues. 
 In fact, nothing is really well made out of Italy and Flanders. 
 What do you think of this Walloon ruff of mine ? It suits a 
 hunting dress well enough ; I have ruffs and collars a la 
 confiisio7i to go to balls in ; but this jjlain thing here, do you 
 think they could make it in Paris ? Not a whit : I got it 
 from Breda. If you like, I can get you another from a 
 
 friend of mine who is in Flanders. But " and he broke 
 
 off with a shout of laughter — " Besjad ! how thoughtless I 
 am. 1 had quite forgotten "
 
 IJ4 CHkOX/CLKS OF CHARLES J\. 
 
 The countess drew bridle. " Comminges," she said, " the 
 luint is in tront there, and to judge by the horn the stag is 
 at bav." 
 
 " I think you are right, fair lady." 
 
 " And will you not be in at the death ?" 
 
 " Why, certainly ; otherwise our Icune as huntsmen and 
 horsemen is gone." 
 
 " Then you must make haste." 
 
 " Yes : our horses have had time to breathe. Come, give 
 us the word." 
 
 " For mv [>art, I am tired, and shall stay here. M. de 
 Mergy will bear me compan)-. Now go." 
 
 "But " 
 
 " Am I to tell you twice ? Set spurs to your horse." 
 
 But Comminges did not stir : his cheeks flushed, and he 
 looked from Mergy to the countess with flaming eyes. 
 
 " Madame de Turgis desires a ttic-a-tctc',' said he with a 
 bitter smile 
 
 The countess pointed to the plantation whence came the 
 sound of the horn, and with her finger-tips made a very sig- 
 nificant motion of dismissal. But still Comminges seemed 
 unable to make up his mind to leave the coast clear to his 
 rival. 
 
 "It would seem that one may not mince matters with 
 you. Be kind enough to leave us, M. de Comminges, for 
 your company is troublesome. Do )ou understand me 
 iioiv ?" 
 
 " Entirely, madame," said he in a rage. And he added 
 lower, " But as for this carpet-knight of yours, he will have 
 no long time to amuse you in. Farewell, INI. de Mergy ; we 
 meet again." He laid a deep stress on the last words, and 
 spurring hard, set off at a gallop. 
 
 The countess checked her own steed, which would have
 
 /•///; HUNT. 
 
 /h- 
 
 
 
 iollowccl the c-.xamiilc, brought him to 
 a walk, and for a timu proceeded 
 silently, r.iisiiig licr head now and 
 then and looking at Mergy, as though 
 she were about to speak, then 
 turning her eyes away as if 
 ashamed at being unable to find 
 a phrase wherewith to begin. 
 
 It seemed to Merev 
 that the obligation of 
 beginning rested with 
 him. 
 
 " I am proud, ma- 
 dame, of the pre- 
 ference }ou have 
 shown me," .said 
 he. 
 
 " Monsieur '"''.n 
 Bernard, can you 
 fence ? " 
 
 " Of course, "* 
 madame," answered he 
 with surprise. 
 
 " But can you fence 
 well — very well, I mean ? " 
 
 " Well enough for a gen- 
 tleman, and badl)-, no doubt, 
 tor a fencing- master." 
 
 " But in our country gen- "« 
 tlemen are too hard with the swore 
 sional masters." 
 
 "True. I have heard that man)- of our jouth waste in 
 tcncing-rooms time the\' nu'ght better spend elsewhere." 
 
 y 
 
 
 tor protes-
 
 126 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 '' Better r' 
 
 "Why, yes. Is it not better worth while," said he smiHng, 
 " to tali<; with a Lul}- than to perspire in a fencing-room ?" 
 
 "Tell me, have you been out often?" 
 
 " Never once, madame, thank God ! But wh)' all these 
 questions ? " 
 
 " Learn, for your future instruction, that you should never 
 ask a lady why she does this or that ; such at least is the 
 custom of well-bred gentlemen." 
 
 " I am corrected, and will obey." said Mergy, smiling 
 slightly, and bowing to his horse's mane. 
 
 "Then, what will you do to-morrow ?" 
 
 " To-morrow ?" 
 
 " Yes ; do not affect astonishment." 
 
 " Madame " 
 
 " Answer me ; for I know all. Answer!" cried she, with 
 a royal gesture of her hand towards him. Her finger-tip just 
 touched Mergy's sleeve, and sent a shiver through him. 
 
 " I shall do my best," said he at last. 
 
 " I like the answer. 'Tis neither that of a coward nor 
 that of a swaggerer. But you must know that you, a mere 
 beginner, have to do with a very formidable enenn. " 
 
 "What would you have? I shall feel very awkwarel, no 
 doubt, as I do now," added he smiling. " The only women 
 I have seen have been peasant girls, and at my entrance on 
 courtiership I find myselt tete-a-tete with the fairest lady in 
 the Court of France." 
 
 " Let us speak seriously. Comminges is the best swords- 
 man of this Court, which is full enough of rufiRers. He is the 
 king of the rajfiiu^s." 
 
 " So they say." 
 
 " Well, are vou not an.xious ?"
 
 THE HUNT. 127 
 
 " I can only repeat that I sliall do m\- l)e.st. One need 
 never despair with a good sword, and, above all, with the 
 help of God." 
 
 "The help of God !" said she scornfully. " Are you not 
 a Huguenot, M. de Mergy ?" 
 
 " I am, madame," said he with an air of gravity, as was 
 his wont in reply to such a question. 
 
 "Then your risk is greater than another's." 
 
 " Why .? •' 
 
 " To endanger one's life is nothing ; but you endanger 
 more than your life — your soul." 
 
 " You speak, madame, according to the ideas of your 
 own religion. Mine gives me more comfort." 
 
 " You are about to play a terrible losing game : eternity 
 on one dice-throw, and sizes against you." 
 
 " But it would be the .same, anyhow ; for if to-morrow I 
 died a Catholic, I should die in mortal sin." 
 
 " There is much to say on that head, and the difference 
 is great ! " cried she, vexed that Mergy should turn her 
 own beliefs against her. "Olu- doctors will prove to 
 )OU — - — " 
 
 " Oh, no doubt. They have proofs for everything. They 
 take the liberty of changing the gospel itself to suit their 
 fancies. For instance " 
 
 " A truce with that ! One cannot talk f )r a moment 
 with a Huguenot but he brings in the Holy Scriptures on 
 every subject." 
 
 " Because we read them ; while your very priests know 
 them not. But, as you say, let us change the subject. Do 
 you think the stag is taken yet ? " 
 
 " Then you are deeply attached to your religion ^ " 
 
 " It is you who are beginning again, madame."
 
 128 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 " Vou think it a i;"Ood one ? " 
 
 " Much more : I think it the best, the <.)nly yoock 1 
 should change it else." 
 
 " But your brother has changed." 
 
 " He had his reasons for becoming- a Catholic ; I have 
 mine for remaining a Protestant." 
 
 "They are all obstinate, and deaf to the voice of reason!" 
 cried she angrily. 
 
 " It will rain to-morrow," said Mergy. looking at the sky. 
 
 " M. de Mergy, my friendship for your brother and 
 your own approaching danger make me ieel an interest in 
 you. ' 
 
 He bowed respectlully. 
 
 " You heretics, you believe not in relics ? " 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " And you would think yourselves polluted b)- touching 
 them ?" continued she. " You would refuse to wear them 
 as we Roman Catholics are wont to do ? " 
 
 " The custom appears to us, to say the least, useless." 
 
 " Listen. One of my cousins once tied a relic to the 
 neck of a hound, and then at twelve paces fired an anjue- 
 buss loaded with buck-shot at him." 
 
 " And the dog was killed ? " 
 
 " Not a shot touched him. 
 
 " That is really wonderful. I should like to have a relic 
 like that." 
 
 " Indeed ? And you would wear it ?" 
 
 " Certainly. As the relic protected a dog, a fortiori 
 
 But, wait a minute, is it sure that a heretic is worth a dog 
 — a Catholic's dog, of course ? " 
 
 Madame de Turgis paid no attention to him, but swiftly 
 imdid the buttons of her tiglit-fitting bodice, and drew from
 
 77//; HUNT. 129 
 
 her bosom a litlle box of goUl, c|uitt' Hat in shape and 
 fastened to a lilack ribbon. 
 
 " There ! " said she ; " you have promised to wear it ; you 
 must give it me back some day." 
 
 " If I can, I certainly wilL" 
 
 " But listen. You will take care of it ? — no sacrilegious 
 tricks ! You will take the greatest care of it ? " 
 
 " It comes from _j'(7//, madame !" 
 
 She gave him tlu' relic, which he took and put round his 
 neck. 
 
 " A Catholic would have paid his thanks to the hand 
 which gave him that holy talisman." 
 
 Mergy seized her hand, and tried to raise it to his lips. 
 
 " No, no ; 'tis too late ! " 
 
 " But think ! I may never have such fortiuie again ! " 
 
 "Take off mv salove, then," said she, holdino- out the 
 hand to him. 
 
 As he drew it off, he seemed to feel a slight squeeze, and 
 he pressed a burning kiss on the wdiite and lovely fingers. 
 
 " Monsieur Bernard, ' said the countess, in a voice full of 
 emotion, " will \ou be heatlstrong to the end, and can 
 nothing touch }ou ^ Will you at last be converted by my 
 means .■'" 
 
 " I cannot tell," answered he, laughing. " But pray let 
 )our entreaties be strong and long. One thing is certain, 
 no one shall convert me but you." 
 
 " Tell me frankly, if a woman - a woman who knew " 
 
 .She stopped. 
 
 " A woman who knew ?" 
 
 " Yes. Is it possible that love But be candid I 
 
 Speak to me seriously ! " 
 
 " Seriously?" And he tried once more to seize her hand.
 
 
 
 CBROyiCLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 
 ^ ^l 
 
 " Yes. Could the love which you 
 
 might feel for a woman of another faith 
 
 than yours — could not such a love 
 
 make you change ? God employs all sorts 
 
 of means. " 
 
 "And you would have me reply frankly 
 ind seriousl)- .''" 
 
 insist on it." 
 Mergy stooped his head, and was slow 
 to reply. In lact, he was seeking for 
 an evasive answer. He had no wish 
 to repulse the advances which Ma- 
 dame de Turgis was making to him ; 
 hut, on the other hand, a courtier of 
 some hours' standing only, he still 
 bore a countr)- conscience terribh' 
 fidl ot scruples. 
 
 " I hear the hallali ! " cried the 
 countess suddenly, without waiting tor this 
 answer which was so difficult to make. 
 And touching her horse with her whip, she 
 gallopped off Mergy following her, l)ut without 
 receiving from her word or look. In a moment 
 they had rejoined the hunt. 
 
 The stag had at first plunged into the midst 
 
 of a pond, from which he was dislodged 
 
 with difficulty by several riders, who 
 
 dismounted, armed themselves with 
 
 ^ ^ \ow^ poles, and obliged the poor beast 
 
 •'>£<* %m^ "-^ ■'''^^''t afresh. But the cold of the 
 
 water had completed the e.xhaustion 
 
 of his strength. He left the pond. 
 
 5
 
 THE HUNT. 131 
 
 panting, with tongue lolling out, and running in irregular 
 bounds. The hounds, on the other hand, seemed to re- 
 double their eagerness ; but, at a short distance from the 
 pond, the stag, feeling that escape by flight was impossible, 
 seemed resolved to make a last effort, and, backinsf against 
 a massive oak, headed towards the hounds. The foremost 
 to attack were gored and tossed aloft, while a horse and 
 his rider were upset headlong. Warned by this, nuMi, ilogs, 
 and horses made a wide rino- round the stag without daring 
 to come within reach of his threatening antlers. 
 
 The King dismounted lightly, and slipping, hunting- 
 knife in hand, adroitly behind the oak, houghed the stag 
 with a back stroke. The beast uttered a kind of hissing 
 groan, and fell at once. Immediately a score of hounds 
 dashed on him ; and, seized by throat, muzzle, and tongue, 
 he was pinned down, the large tears rolling from his ejes. 
 
 " Call the ladies closer ! " cried the King ; and the ladies, 
 almost all of whom had dismounted, came near. 
 
 " Take that, parpaillot !" .said he, plunging his hunting- 
 kniie, which he turned in the wound to make it larger, into 
 the stag's side. The blood gushed forth with violence, and 
 covered the royal face and hands and dress. 'Kow parpailioi 
 was a term of contempt which Catholics often applied to 
 Calvinists, and the word and the way in which it was used 
 offended many, while it was applauded by others. 
 
 " The King looks like a butcher," said young Teligny, the 
 Admiral's son-in-law, prett)- loud, and with a disgusted air. 
 Nor did charitable souls, such as especially abound at Court, 
 fail to convey the observation to the monarch, who did 
 not forget it. 
 
 After enjoying the agreeable spectacle of the dogs devour- 
 ing the entrails of the deer, the Court returned to Paris. 
 
 s
 
 132 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 On the way Mergy told liis brother of the insuk lie had 
 received and the challenge which had followed. Advice 
 and remonstrance were in vain ; and the captain promised 
 to hear him company in the morning. 
 
 <r;-
 
 CHAl'Tl'LR XI. 
 
 TIIF. KAIFINK AND THK TKI-.-ArX- 
 CI.KKCS. 
 
 " For one of us nuisl yield his bieath 
 Ere from llie rielil one foot we flee." 
 
 The DiidI of Stuarl and W/iarlon. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the fatis,nie.s of the chase, 
 Mergy pas.sed no small part of the night without 
 sleeping. He turned feverishly from side to side in bed, 
 and his fancy became abominably active under the excite- 
 ment. A thousand thoughts, which had only an accidental 
 connection or no connection at all with what was impending, 
 beset antl disturhsxl his brain : and more than once he
 
 134 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 thouy^ht that the feverisli disturbance he felt was but the pre- 
 hiJe of a serious ihness which would show itself in a few 
 hours and confine him to bed. What would become of his 
 honour then ? what would the world say ? what, above all, 
 would Madame de Turgis and Comminges say ? He would 
 have given much to hasten on the hour fixed for the 
 combat. 
 
 Luckily at sunrise he felt his blood course more steadily, 
 and he thought with less emotion of the coming meeting. 
 He dressed himself quietly, and even devoted some minute 
 attention to his toilette. He imagined the beautiful countess 
 hastening to the battle-field, finding him slightly wounded, 
 dressino- the wound with her own hands, and making no 
 secret of her love. The stroke of eight on the clock of the 
 Louvre put these fancies to flight ; and almost at the same 
 moment his brother entered the room. A deep sadness 
 marked his countenance, and it was pretty clear that he had 
 passed no better night ; yet he forced a pleasant and cheerful 
 smile as he grasped Mergy 's hand. 
 
 " Here," he said, "is a rapier for you, and a dagger with 
 shell-hilt, both by Luno of Toledo ; see if the weight of 
 the sword suits \ou." And he threw on Mergy's bed a long 
 rapier and a poniard. 
 
 Mergy drew the sword, bent it, looked at the point, and 
 seemed satisfied. Then he directed his attention to the 
 poniard, the hilt of which was slashed with a vast number of 
 small holes, intended to catch the point ot the adversary's 
 sword and hold it so that it could not be easily disengaged. 
 
 " With such good tools as these," said he, " I think I can 
 hold my own." Then, pointing to the relic which Madame 
 de Turgis had given him, and which he had kept hidden in 
 his bosom: "Here," he added, smiling, "is a talisman as
 
 Tfir. A'.lFFf.VF. .I.YD THE PR EAUXCLERCS. 135 
 
 well, which preserves one from sword-thrusts better than 
 any coat of mail." 
 
 " Where did you get that bauble ? " 
 
 " You may guess." And his pride in appearing as a ladies' 
 darling made him for the moment forofet both Comming-es 
 and the duelling sword which lay naked before him. 
 
 " I will bet that that mad countess has given it you. The 
 devil take her and her box both." 
 
 " Don't you know that it is a charm which she has given 
 me expressly for use to-day ? " 
 
 " .She had better have shown herself gloved instead of 
 seeking a chance of exhibiting her pretty white hand ! " 
 
 " God forbid," .said Mergy, blushing deeply, " that I should 
 believe in these Papist relics. But if I am to fall to-day I 
 should like her to know that I fell with her gage on my 
 breast. ' 
 
 " Coxcomb ! " cried the captain, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 " Here is a letter for my mother," said Mergy, in a voice 
 that trembled somewhat. George took it without a word, 
 and, walking up to the table, opened a little Bible and 
 read in it to settle his countenance, while his brother, com- 
 pleting his toilet, was busy in trussing the multitude of points 
 which were then worn. On the first page that George 
 opened he found these words in his mother's hand : " On the 
 first of May, 1547, my son Bernard was born. Lord! kee|) 
 him in Thy ways. Lord! preserve him from all evil.' 
 He bit his lips savagely, and threw the book on the table. 
 Mergy, who saw the action, thought that some impious 
 fancy had crossed his brother's brain ; he took up the Bibk' 
 gravely, replaced it in its embroidered case, and locked it up 
 in a cabinet with every mark of reverence. "'Tis my 
 mother's Bible," he said.
 
 136 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 The captain answered not, but paced up and down the 
 room. 
 
 " Ought we not to go ? " said Mergy, buckling the belt 
 of his sword. 
 
 " Not yet; we have plenty of time for breakfast." 
 
 Both took their places before a table covered with cakes 
 of different kinds, which were flanked by a great silver 
 tankard of Avine. As they ate they argued at great length 
 and with apparent interest on the merits of the liquor as 
 compared with others in the captain's cellar, each attempting 
 under cover of this trivial conversation to hide the real 
 thoughts of his heart from his companion. 
 
 The captain rose first. " Let us go ! " said he hoarsely ; 
 and crushing his hat over his eyes he hastily went down- 
 stairs. 
 
 They took boat and crossed the Seine, their boatman, 
 who guessed by their appearance the errand which took them 
 to the Pre-au.x-Clercs, exhibiting great alacrity. As he pulled 
 stoutly across he recounted to them wMth much circumstance 
 how, the month before, two gentlemen, one of whom was 
 called the Count de Comminges, had done him the honour 
 to hire his boat in order to fight comfortabl\- in it without 
 fear of disturbance. M. de Comminges's adversary, whose 
 name he was sorry not to have heard, had been run through 
 the body and upset into the river as well ; nor had he, the 
 boatman, ever been able to fish him out. 
 
 As they touched land they saw a boat with passengers 
 crossing the river some score of yards lower down. " There 
 are our men," said the captain : " stay you here." And he ran 
 to meet the boat, which carried Comminges and the Viscount 
 de Beville. 
 
 " Ah !" cried the latter, "there you are! Is it you or
 
 THE RAFFINE AND THE PRE-AUX-CLERCS. 137 
 
 your brother that Comminges is going to kill ? "' And as 
 he spoke he laughed and embraced him. 
 
 The captain and Comminges exchanged formal bows. 
 
 " Sir," said the captain to Comminges, as soon as he 
 could disengage himself from Beville's embrace, " I think it 
 my duty to make a last effort to prevent fatal consequences 
 in a quarrel which is founded on no point of honour. 1 am 
 sure that my friend will join his efforts to mine." 
 
 He ])()lnled to Beville ; but Heville grinned and shook 
 his head. 
 
 "My brother," went on George, "is very young, and 
 having no repute or experience in arms, he is obliged in 
 consequence to show himself more punctilious than another 
 might. Your reputation, sir, on the other hand, is made, 
 and your honour can only gain by it if you will be good 
 enough to admit, in my presence and M. de Beville's, that 
 it was by oversight ' 
 
 Comminges interrupted him with a burst of laughter. 
 
 " Are you joking, my dear captain .'' or do you think 
 me the sort of man to leave my lady's bower at this 
 time and to cross the Seine in order to beg pardon of a 
 schoolboy ? " 
 
 " You forget, sir, that he of whom you speak is my 
 brother ; and you insult " 
 
 "If he were your father, what does it matter to me .'' I 
 care nothing for the whole family." 
 
 " Well then, sir, with your goi)d leave, you shall have to 
 do with the whole family ; and as I am the eldest, you will 
 please to begin with me. " 
 
 " Pardon me, sir captain, 1 am bound b}- all the rules of 
 the duello to fight with the person who challenged me first. 
 \ our brother's prior right is imprescriptible, as they say in
 
 138 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 the Palace of Justice. When 1 have finished with him I 
 am at your commands." 
 
 " That is quite right," cried Beville ; " and for my part I 
 will consent to no other course of proceeding." 
 
 Mergy, astonished at the length of the colloquy, had 
 approached slowly. He came up in time to hear his brother 
 load Comminges with insults, even to the point of calling 
 him coward, while Comminges replied with perfect cool- 
 ness — 
 
 " After your brother's turn I will attend to you." 
 
 Mergy seized his brother's arm. 
 
 " George ! " he cried, " is this the way you do me 
 service ? And would you wish me to take your part as 
 you are trying to take mine ^ Sir, " added he, turning to 
 Comminges, " I am at your orders. We will begin as soon 
 as you like." 
 
 "Then let us not lose a moment," said Comminges. 
 
 " Excellent, my dear fellow ! " said Beville, grasping 
 Mergy's hand. " You will go far, my boy, if we are lucky 
 enough not to have to bury you here." 
 
 Comminges stripped off his doublet and undid the strings 
 of his shoes, to signify that he would not retreat a step, as 
 was the fashion with professional duellists. Mergy and 
 Beville did the .same ; the captain alone had not so much 
 as thrown off his cloak. 
 
 " What are you at, George, my friend ? " said Beville. 
 " Don't you know that )ou and I must have a turn to- 
 gether.'' W^e are none of the seconds who stand with folded 
 arms while their friends fight. M'c follow the Spanish 
 fashion." 
 
 The captain shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You think I am joking .•* I swear to \ou, b) ni_\-
 
 THE RAFFINE AND THE PRE-AUX-CLERCS. 139 
 
 honour, that jou must figlit with inc. The tlcvil take me 
 if )ou shall not ! " 
 
 " You are a madcap and a fool," said the captain coolly. 
 
 " By Jove ! you shall do me reason for those two little 
 
 words, or you will drive me to take measures " And he 
 
 *■ 
 lifted his still sheathed sword, as thoug-h he would strike 
 
 George. 
 
 "You will have it?" said the ca[)tain. "Be it so!" 
 And in a second he had stripped to his shirt. 
 
 Comminges shook his sword in the air with a studied 
 elegance, and at a single stroke made the scabbard fly 
 twenty paces off. Beville tried to do the like, but the scab- 
 bard stuck hall-way on the blade, which was held at the 
 time to be at once a proof ot awkwardness and a bad omen. 
 The two brothers drew their swords with less flourish, but 
 they too flung down the scabbards, which might have been 
 in the way. Each man faced his foe, naked sword in the 
 right hand, dagger in the left ; and the four blades crossed 
 at the same moment. First of all, George (by the device 
 which Italian masters called then Liscio di spada c cavarc 
 alia vita,^ and which consists in meeting the weak part of 
 the sword with the stronsj, so as to deflect and beat down 
 the adversary s blade) made Beville's sword fly from his 
 hand, and set his own point at his antagonist's breast; but 
 instead of running him through, he coolly lowered his 
 weapon. 
 
 "You are no match for me," he said. " Do not wait till 
 I am angry." 
 
 Beville had grown pale on seeing George's sword so 
 close to his breast. A little out of countenance, he held 
 
 ' To strike the blade and disengage at the body. .All fencing terms 
 were then borrowed from Italian. 
 
 T
 
 I40 
 
 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 out his hand to 
 swords in the 
 the two principals. ,^ 
 
 M e rg )' w a s 
 ness. He fenced 
 strength was much 
 of Comminges, 
 have recovered his 
 before. P or some 
 himself to parrying 
 breaking ground 
 pressed him too ''"' 
 keeping the point 
 adversary's 
 covered his 
 the dagger. 
 
 lini ; and Ijoth, sticking their 
 round, fixed their attention on 
 
 lirave, and had plenty of cool- 
 well enough, and his bodily 
 greater than that 
 .-'( who seemed not to 
 ^\ exertions of the night 
 time he confined 
 with extreme care, 
 when Comminges 
 , hard, and always 
 \^'. \ of his rapier at his 
 i:\fe • \-,/' , face while he 
 
 
 ^ ,t".S''^'' own breast with 
 
 This unexpected 
 
 resistance irritated 
 
 Comminges, who 
 
 grew visibly paler ; 
 
 this paleness in so 
 
 brave a man 
 
 
 
 \ \ c. -^A 
 
 ■^ST 
 
 ^:^^x.. >4^
 
 THE RAFFIXE AND THE PRE-AUXCI.ERCS. 141 
 
 excessive rage. His attacks grew faster aiul more furious, 
 till in making a pass he beat up Mergy's sword with 
 much skill, and, lunging fiercely, would certainly have run 
 him through and through, save for an almost miraculous 
 accident which spoilt the stroke. The point of the rapier 
 struck the polished gold reliquary, which turned it and 
 made it take an oblique direction ; so that instead of pene- 
 trating Mergy's breast, the sword only pierced the skin, 
 and, following a line parallel to the fifth rib, came out some 
 two inches from the first incision. Before Comminges 
 could draw back his sword, Mergy struck him with his 
 dagger on the head so violently that he himself lost his 
 balance and fell to the ground. Comminges dropped at the 
 same time, so that the seconds thought them both dead. 
 
 Mergy was .soon on his feet, and his first motion was to 
 pick up his sword which he had let slip in his fall. Com- 
 minges did not stir. Beville lifted him up, and wiping with 
 a handkerchief his face, which was drenched in blood, saw 
 that the dagger had entered the eye, and that his friend 
 had been killed on the spot, the steel having beyond all 
 doubt pierced the brain. 
 
 Mergy stared at the corpse with haggard eyes. 
 
 " You are wounded, Bernard," said the captain, running 
 up to him. 
 
 " Wounded ! " cried Mergy ; and then only did he notice 
 that his shirt was bloody. 
 
 " 'Tis nothing," said the captain; "the blow slipped." 
 He stanched the blood with his handkerchief, and asketl 
 for Beville's to complete the dressing. Beville let the boily 
 which he held fall back on the sward, and at once gave, not 
 only his own handkerchief, but that of Comminges, which he 
 fetched trom his doublet.
 
 142 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 "Zooks! friend," cried he, " wliat a dagger-stroke ! You 
 have something Hke an arm ! Death of my Hfe! what will 
 our gentlemen rajfincs of Paris say if the provinces send up 
 gallants of your kidney ? Pray you, tell me, how many duels 
 have you fought already ?" 
 
 "Alas!" said Mergy, "this is the first. But in God's 
 name look to your friend." 
 
 "He wants no looking to, by [ove! after the way you 
 have handled him. The dagger has pierced the brain, and 
 the blow was dealt so featly and hard that — look at his 
 cheek and eyebrow ! The siiell of the poniard has stamped 
 itself on them Hke a seal on wax." 
 
 Mergy shivered all over, and great tears began to trickle 
 down his cheeks. 
 
 Beville picked up the dagger and looked curiously at the 
 riutings full of blood. " Here is a tool," said he, " to which 
 Comminges's younger brother ought to burn a stout candle. 
 This pretty poniard estates him in a splendid fortune." 
 
 " Let us go; take me hence," said Mergy in a stifled voice, 
 seizing his brother's arm. 
 
 " Do not distress yourself" said George, as he helped him 
 to put on his doublet. "After all, the man you have killed 
 is not particularly worth mourning." 
 
 "Poor Comminges!" cried B6ville ; "to think that you, 
 who have fought a hundred times, were killed by a young- 
 ster in his first duel! Poor Comminges!" And this was 
 the end ot his funeral sermon. 
 
 But as he cast a last look on his friend Beville perceived 
 the defunct's watch hanging, as was then the fashion, from 
 his neck. "By love!" cried he, "you have no need to 
 know the time of day now." And he undid and pocketed 
 the watch, remarking that Comminges's brother would be
 
 THE RAFFIXE AND THE PRE-AUXCLERCS. 
 
 '4.> 
 
 ([uitc rich enough as it was, and lliat he himself should like 
 a keepsake of his friend. 
 
 As the two brothers were moving off, " Wait for me," he 
 cried out to them, putting on his doublet hastily. " Ah, Mon- 
 sieur de Mergy, you are forgetting your dagger. Do not lose 
 that, at any rate,'' and he wiped the blade on the dead man's 
 shirt and ran to catch up the )'oung duellist. " Console 
 yourself, my dear fellow," he said, as he slipped intt) his 
 boat. " Do not j^ull such a rueful countenance. Take my 
 advice, and instead of bemoaning yourself, pay a visit this 
 very day fresh from this business to your mistress, and try 
 if you cannot give a citizen to the State in the place of him 
 of whom you have deprived it. Then will the world have 
 lost nothing by you. Come, boatman, pull as if you wished 
 to earn a pistole. There are some gentry with halberds 
 coming towards us ; they must be the watch from the Tour 
 de Nesle, and we do not want to have anything to do with 
 them." 
 
 A.ff; 
 
 Tit ^^7^^4^p^ ... -^-^u^ ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 .^«a 
 
 ii^
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHITE MAGIC. 
 
 ' Last iiiglit I dreamt of dead fish an<l i>iol;en eggs ; and I have 
 learnt from Master Anaxarchus that liroUen eggs and dead fish ''fc— 
 
 betoken ill-hick." — MoI-IkRE, Lfs Amants RIagnifiqiies. 
 
 THE halberdiers were in fact some of the soldiers of 
 the watch, a troop of whom was alwajs stationed in 
 the neighbourhood of the Pr(i-aux-Clercs, so as to be ready 
 to interpose in the quarrels which were wont to be settled 
 on this ground sacred to duels. According to their custom,
 
 146 CHRONICLES OF ClfARLES IX. 
 
 they had come up very slowly, and so as not to reach the spot 
 till all was over. For, to tell the truth, their peacemaking 
 intentions were often very ill received ; and more than once 
 desperate enemies had been known to suspend a mortal 
 combat in order to attack, side by side, the soldiers who 
 tried to part them. Thus the functions of the guard were 
 usually limited to helping the wounded or carrying oft the 
 dead. In this instance the archers had but the latter duty 
 to accomplish, and they did it according to their custom, 
 that is to say, after very carefully emptying the pockets and 
 dividing the garments of the unlucky Comminges. 
 
 " My advice to you, my dear friend," said Beville, turning 
 to Mergy, " is to have yourself taken as quietly as possible to 
 Master Ambrose Pare, who is a precious man for sewing )-ou 
 up a wound or putting a broken limb to rights. Though 
 he is as rank a heretic as Calvin himself, he is in such 
 repute that the hottest Catholics resort to him. Up to this 
 time nobody but the Marchioness de Boissieres has faced 
 death bravely rather than owe life to a Huguenot, for which 
 reason I will wager ten pistoles that she is in Paradise." 
 
 " The wound is nothing," said George ; " it will be healed 
 in three days. But Comminges has relations at Paris, and I 
 fear they may take his death a little too seriously." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; there is a mother, who will think herself 
 obliged by decency to prosecute our friend. But there! get 
 M. de Chatillon to beg his pardon, and the King will grant 
 it at once. He is as wax in the yXdmiral's hands." 
 
 " If it may be so," said Mergy in a feeble voice, " I should 
 prefer that the Admiral knew nothing at all about the 
 matter." 
 
 " Wh\- ? do )ou think the old greybeard will be vexed to 
 hear what short work a Protestant has made ot a Catholic?"
 
 WHITE MAOrC. 147 
 
 But .McrL,ry onl\- answcixtl by a deep sigh. 
 
 " Commingcs was too well known at Court for his death 
 not to make some noise," said ihc' captain. " But )'ou did 
 )our duty hke a gentleman, and nothing but honour can 
 redound to you from the whole thing. It is long since I 
 |).ud old Chatillon a visit, and this will be an opportunity of 
 renewing our accpiaintance." 
 
 "As it is never pleasant to lind oneself clapped under the 
 law's bolts and bars, even for an hour or two," continuetl 
 Beville, " I will bestow your brother in a house where they 
 will not think of looking for him. He can be quite quiet 
 there till his business is settled ; for as a heretic they could 
 perhaps hardlx' give him sanctuar)- in a convent." 
 
 " Thanks for your offer, sir," said Mergy ; " but I cannot 
 accept it, for I might compromise you by doing so." 
 
 " Not a whit, not a whit, my dear fellow ; and if you did, a 
 man must stand by his friends. The house where I mean 
 to lodge you belongs to a cousin of mine who is away from 
 Paris for the time, and it is nu'ne to do what I like with. 
 Indeed, there is someone there already to whom I have 
 given a lodging, and who will look after you : an old lady 
 who is very obliging to us youth, and is devoted to me. 
 She knows leechcraft, magic, astronom)', heaven knows 
 what ; and her most convenient talent of all is that of go- 
 between. Blast me, but she would take a love-letter to the 
 Oueen herself if I asked her ! " 
 
 "Well, then," said the captain, " we will take him there as 
 soon as Master Ambrose has given him the first dressing." 
 They touched the right bank as he spoke, and after hoisting 
 Mergy with some trouble on a horse, they took him to the 
 famous surgeon, and thence to a lonely house in the 
 I-"aubourg Saint Antoine. Nor did they leave him till 
 
 u
 
 148 CHRO\/C/ES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 night saw him tucked up in a comtortable bed, and specially 
 recommended to the old woman's care. 
 
 When )ou have killed a man, and when this man is the 
 first that you have killed, you are haunted tor some time, 
 and especially at nightfall, by the memory and the look 
 of the last struo-o;le that ushered in his death. The mind 
 is so full of gloomy thoughts, that it is hard to take part 
 even in the most trivial conversation ; all talk wearies and 
 anno)s; while, on the other hand, solitude is dreaded because 
 it strengthens the oppression of fancw Despite the frequent 
 visits of Beville and the captain, Mergy spent the days 
 immediately succeeding his duel in the deepest sadness. 
 A sharp touch of fever, brought on by his wound, kept him 
 sleepless at night, and this was his worst time. Only the 
 notion that Madame de Turgis thought of him and had 
 admired his courage consoled him a little, but did not 
 restore him to calm. 
 
 One night, oppressed by the stilling heat (for it was the 
 month of fuly), he took a fancy to leave his room, in order 
 to walk and breathe the air in a garden, full of trees, which 
 surrounded the house. He threw a cloak over his shoulders, 
 and was about to go forth, when he found that his chamber 
 door was locked on the outside. It could only be, he 
 thought, a slip of his old nurse, and as she slept at a distance, 
 antl must probably be fast asleep, he thought it quite useless 
 t(^) call her ; besides, his window was near the ground, which 
 was soft below, having been recently dug. In a moment 
 he had dropped into the garden. The night was dark; not 
 a star blinked ; and scanty puffs of wind now antl then, and 
 as though with difficLilt)-, crossed the hot and heavy atmo- 
 sphere. It was about two o'clock in the morning, and 
 profound stillness reigned around him.
 
 ^ 
 
 WHITE MAGIC 
 
 Mergy paced for some time, ab- 
 sorbed in thoughts, which wen- 
 interrupted by a knock at the street 
 gate. It was a faint, and, as it were, 
 mysterious stroke of the knocker, 
 whosoever struck it seeming as- 
 sured that someone would be ready 
 to open. A visitor at a lonely 
 house and at such an hour was 
 something surprising, ami Mergy 
 kept himself motionless in a dark 
 corner of the garden, whence he 
 could see everything without being 
 seen. A woman, who could not 
 be other than his old nurse, came 
 out of the house at once 
 with a dark lantern in her 
 hand ; she opened the gate, i-r, - 
 and there entered someone 
 wrapped completely in a large 
 black hooded mantle. 
 
 Bernard's curiosity was in i^L 
 a state of lively excitement. ^^"^^ 
 The stature, and, so far as he 
 could judge, the garments, of 
 the newcomer indicated the 
 other sex ; and the old woman 
 greeted her visitor with every mark 
 of respect, while Blackmantle 
 scarcely bowed her head in return. 
 To make amends she put some- 
 thins: into the old woman's hand. 
 
 149 
 
 \^--
 
 ISO CffROX/CLES OF CflARLES IX. 
 
 which sccnic-d to be received with pleasure, while the sharp 
 sound as of metal dropping, and the eagerness with which 
 the hag stooped and looked about on the ground, convinced 
 Mergy that she Iiad had money given to her. The two 
 women then walked towards the garden, the crone going first 
 and hidino- her lantern. At the frarden's end there was a 
 
 o o 
 
 kind of arbour formed by limes, which were planted in a 
 circle, and joined together by a very thick hedge nearly as 
 close as a wall. Two gates or entries led into this green 
 retreat, in the centre of which was a small stone table. 
 Into this the old woman and the veiled visitor entered. 
 Mergy, holding his breath, and following them with stealthy 
 step, placed himself behind the hedge, so that he could hear 
 perfectly, and could see as well as the scanty light illumi- 
 nating the scene permitted. 
 
 Tile old woman began by lighting something, which burnt 
 up at once, in a tri])od placed on the middle of the table, 
 and gave a pale bluish light, like that of salt and spirits of 
 wine mintrled torrether. She forthwith extinguished or 
 covered up her lantern, so that ijy the flickering light of 
 the tripod Mergy would have had difficulty in recognizing 
 the stranger's features, even if the\' had not been hidden by 
 veil and hood. As for the old woman, it was easy to re- 
 cotrnize her stature and fioure ; but he noticed that her face 
 
 o o 
 
 was smeared with some dark dye which made her, under 
 her white coif, look like a bronze statue. The table was 
 covered with singular objects which he could hardly dis- 
 tinouish. They seemed arraufred in reo'ular though eccentric 
 order ; and he thought he saw amongst them Iruit, jjieces 
 of bone, and some fragments of blood-stained linen. Above 
 these soiled ra<rs stood a little fi<'ure of a man, of \va.\, as it 
 seemed, and at most a foot high.
 
 WlirTK MAGIC. 151 
 
 " Well, Camilla," said the veiled lad\- in a low voice, 
 which made Mergy start, "you say he is better ? " 
 
 " A litde better, madame," said the hag, " thanks to our 
 art. Still, with these scraps and the little blood there is on 
 the bandages, it has been difficult for me to do much." 
 
 " And what says Master Ambrose Pare ? " 
 
 " He, tlic dunce ! What does it matter what he says ? 
 I give you my word that the wmmd is deep, dangerous, 
 and terrible, and that it can only be cured by the rules of 
 magic sympathy. But it is needful to do frequent sacrifice 
 to the spirits of earth and air ; and for sacrifice " 
 
 The lady understood her at once. 
 
 " If he is cured," she said, " you shall have double what 
 I have just given you." 
 
 " Be of good hope, and rely on me." 
 
 " Ah, Camilla ! but if he should die ? " 
 
 "Calm yourself The spirits are favourable; the stars 
 protect us ; and our last sacrifice of the black ram has pro- 
 pitiated The Ol/icr." 
 
 " I bring you something that has cost me much pains 
 to [jrocure. I bought it of one of the arch('rs who strij^ped 
 the corpse." 
 
 She drew an object from beneath her cloak, and Mergy 
 caught the glitter of a sword-blade. The hag took it, and 
 held it close to the light for examination. 
 
 " Thank heaven ! there is blooil and rust on the blade ! 
 Yes ! his blood is as that of the basilisk of Cathay — it 
 leaves an ineradicable trace on the steel." 
 
 She looked carefully at the blade ; and it was clear that 
 the veiled lady felt more than ordinary emotion. 
 
 "See, Camilla! how near the blood is to the hilt. The 
 blow ma\' be mortal."
 
 152 CimONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " That blood is not heart's blood : he will recover." 
 
 " }ie will recover ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but he will pay for his recovery by catching; an 
 incurable disease. " 
 
 " What disease ? " 
 
 " Love. " 
 
 "Ah, Camilla! are you speaking the truth ?" 
 
 " When did I ever fail to speak the truth ? When did 
 my predictions fail in accomplishment ? Did I not tell you 
 that he would be victorious in the fight ? Did I not inform 
 you that the spirits would fight on his side } Did I not 
 bury, on the very spot where the duel was to take place, a 
 black hen. and a sword blessed by the priest ? " 
 
 " It is true." 
 
 " Did you not yourself drive a dagger into the heart ot 
 an image of his adversary, thus directing the blows of him 
 in whose behalf I spent my skill ? " 
 
 " Yes, Camilla, 1 did pierce the heart of Comminges's 
 image. But they say that he died of a wound in the head." 
 
 " Of course, the steel struck his head : but did he not die 
 because the blood stopped at his heart .^ " 
 
 The veiled lady seemed crushed by the Vk^eight of this 
 argument, and she was silent. Meanwhile the hag moistened 
 the sword-blade with oil and balsam, and wrapped it with 
 the greatest care in bandages. 
 
 " See, madame," she said, " this scorpion's oil with which 
 I rub the sword is directed by virtue of sympathy into the 
 young man's wound. He feels the effect of this African 
 balsam just as if I poured it on his hurt ; and if I took a 
 fancy to let the sword-point grow red hot in the fire, our 
 poor patient would suffer as much as though he were burnt 
 alive."
 
 WHITE MAGIC. 
 
 153 
 
 think not ot such 
 " One cvcnins/ 
 
 I thintr. 
 
 sat l)\' llic hearth busily 
 ruljbinii' a sword with bal- 
 sam to cure a young gen- 
 tleman in whose head that 
 sword had made two fearful 
 wounds. I tell asleep at 
 my task, when suddenly the 
 sick man's lackey knocked 
 at my door to tell me that 
 his master was suffering the 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 agonies of 
 
 when he 
 
 felt as if stretched on blazint 
 
 coals. Do you know what had 
 
 happened ? 1 had carelessly let the
 
 IS4 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 sword slip, and the blade was at the moment on the embers. 
 I snatched it off, and told the lacke)' that he would at his 
 return hnd his master fully relieved. 1 plunged the sword 
 at once in iced water, with a mixture of certain drugs, and 
 went to see my patient. As I entered he cried to me, ' Ah ! 
 my good Camilla, what sweet relief I feel now! It seems 
 as though I were in a bath of cool water, while just now I 
 might have been .St. Laurence on his gridiron.' " 
 
 -She finished dressing the sword, and said with a satisfied 
 air, " 'Tis well : now I am sure of his cure, and you may give 
 your attention to the last ceremony." She threw some 
 pinches of sweet-smelling powder on the fiame, and muttered 
 outlandish words, crossing herself continuall)-. Then the 
 lady took the waxen image with a trembling hantl, and hold- 
 ing it above the tripod she pronounced these words in a 
 \'oicc lull of passion : "" As this tcurx soHciis and bni-ns in the 
 ti'ipod flame ; so, O Bernard Mergy ! may thy heart grow 
 soft and burn for love of me ! " 
 
 " Good : now here is a green wax candle moulded at mid- 
 night in accordance with the rules of art. Light it to-morrow 
 before the X'irgin's altar. " 
 
 " I will ; Init in spite of all your promises I am terribly 
 anxious. I dreamt yesterday that he was dead." 
 
 " Were you sleeping on your right side or your left .■* " 
 
 " On but which side do true dreams come ?" 
 
 " Tell me first on which side you sleep. I see that you 
 wish to abuse and deceive yourself." 
 
 " I always sleep on my right side." 
 
 " Then be composed, ^'our dream announces nothing 
 but good luck." 
 
 " God grant it ! But I saw him pale, bleeding, and wrapped 
 in his shroud "
 
 WHITE MAGIC. 15s 
 
 As she spoke, she turned her head and saw Mergy stand- 
 ing at one of the arbour doors. Her astonishment made 
 her shrielv so piercingly, that Mergy himself was confounded. 
 The hag, either purposely or by accident, upset the tripod, 
 and at once there rose to the summit of the limes a flash 
 of brilliant light that blinded him for a moment or two, 
 during which the two women escaped, without losing an 
 instant, through the opposite entrance. As soon as Mergy 
 could discern the opening in the hedge he tried to follow 
 them ; but at his first movement he scarcely saved himself 
 from a fall, something having got between his legs. This 
 he recognized as the s\vord to which he owed his cure. He 
 lost some further time in getting clear (A it and exploring the 
 way, and when, reaching a wide straight alle\', he thought 
 that there could be no more obstacles to his catching the 
 fugitives, he heard the street gate shut. They were out of 
 reach. 
 
 A little vexed at having let so fair a prey slip through 
 his fingers, he groped his way back to his chamber, and 
 threw himself on the bed. All doleful thoughts were 
 banished from his mind, and both remorse, if he had had any, 
 and the anxiety which his condition had caused him, disap- 
 peared as if by enchantment. He thought of nothing but 
 the happiness of loving and being loved by the most beauti- 
 ful woman in Paris : for he could not doubt that the veiled 
 lady was Madame de Turgis. A little after sunrise he fell 
 asleep ; and only woke when it had been broad day for 
 several hours. Upon his pillow he found a sealed billet 
 which had been placed there, he knew not how ; and open- 
 ing it, he read these words : " Sir knight, a lady's honour 
 depends on your discretion." 
 
 A few moments afterwards the old woman came in to 
 
 X
 
 156 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 bring him some broth. She wore for the clay, contrary to 
 her custom, a rosary of large beads, hung to her girdle. 
 Her skin, carefully washed, showed no longer like bronze, 
 but like smoked parchment, and she walked with slow steps 
 and downcast eyes, like a person who fears to be troubled in 
 her commerce with the skies by the sight of earthly things. 
 
 Mergy thought that, for the more deserving practice of 
 the virtue recommended to him in the mysterious note, he 
 had better first acquire a thorough knowledge as to what he 
 was to keep secret from the world. So holding the broth in 
 his hand, and giving old Martha no time to reach the door, 
 he said, " You never told me that your name was Camilla ? " 
 
 " Camilla ? My name is Martha, good gentleman — Martha 
 Micheli," said the old woman, affecting great surprise at his 
 question. 
 
 " Very well ; so be it. You are to be called Martha by 
 men ; but spirits know you under the name ot Camilla." 
 
 "Spirits? Sweet Jesus! What do you mean ? " and she 
 crossed herself all over. 
 
 " Come ; no tricks with mc. I will tell no one, and all 
 this is between ourselves. Who is the lady who takes such 
 interest in my health ?" 
 
 " The lady who ? " 
 
 " Now, do not repeat my words, but speak frankly. On 
 the faith of a gentleman I will not betray you." 
 
 " Truly, good gentleman, I know not what )()u would 
 say." 
 
 Mergy could not help a laugh as he saw her feign astonish- 
 ment, and lay her hand on her heart. He took a jiiece of 
 gold from the purse that hung at his bed-head and offered 
 it to the old woman. 
 
 " Come, good Camilla, you take so much care of me, and
 
 WHITE MAGIC. 
 
 '57 
 
 give yourself so much trouble in rubbing swords with 
 scorpion's balm, all for the sake of curing me, that really I 
 ought to have made you a present long ago." 
 
 " Alas ! gentleman, indeed, indeed, I understand no word 
 of what you say." * 
 
 "Confusion ! Martha, or Camilla il you like, don't make 
 me angry, but answer. Who is the lail)- for whom you per- 
 formed all that pretty witchcraft last night ?" 
 
 " Oh! gracious .Saviour! he is getting angry ! Can he be 
 delirious ?" 
 
 Mergy, in a rage, seized his pillow and Hung it at her head. 
 The oKl lady replaced it with much hiunilit)- on the bed, 
 picked up the gold crown from the tloor where it had fallen, 
 and, as the captain entered at the same moment, she was 
 relieved of her fear of a cross-examination, which might have 
 ended awkwardly for her.
 
 i!pi#fl|, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 •■ A'iiix Ilciny II'. Thou ilosl belie liiiu, IV-rcy ; thou dost belie him." 
 
 Shakf.spk.xre, King Ileniy //'. 
 
 GEORGE had gone to see the Admiral that same 
 morning, in order to inform him of his brother's mis- 
 adventure, and had told the whole story in a few words. 
 
 The Admiral, as he listened, crunched the toothpick which 
 he had in his mouth — a sure sign of ill-temper with him. 
 
 " I knew this matter already," said he; "and I am sur- 
 prised that )()u should speak of it, for it is notorious enough."
 
 i6o CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " If I trouble you, my Lord Admiral, it is but because I 
 know the interest you condescend to take in our family, 
 and I venture to hope that you will graciously solicit 
 the King's clemency to my brother. Your credit with his 
 Majesty " 
 
 " My credit, if I have any," broke in the Admiral sharply, 
 " my credit depends upon the fact that I never put any but 
 just demands before his Majesty." And as he spoke the 
 last word he lifted his hat reverentially. 
 
 "The circumstance which makes it necessary for my 
 brother to have recourse to your goodness is unfortunately 
 one but too common in these days. Last year the King 
 signed more than fifteen hundred writs of pardon, and 
 Bernard's adversary himself has repeatedly enjoyed the pro- 
 tection which these writs give." 
 
 " Your brother was the aggressor ; though, perhaps, and 
 I would it were true " (he looked steadily at George as he 
 spoke), " he has but followed pernicious advice." 
 
 " I did my best to prevent the fatal results of this quarrel ; 
 but you know that M. de Comminges was of a temper to 
 give no .satisfaction to anyone but at point ot sword. The 
 honour of a gentleman and the opinion of ladies " 
 
 " Then that is how you talk to the young man ? " said the 
 Admiral. " Perhaps you hope to make a rajfiiif of him .'' 
 How would his father mourn if he knew in what manner his 
 son despises his counsel ! Good God ! 'tis but two years 
 since our civil wars were quenched, and men have already 
 forgotten the oceans of blood shed in them. Their thirst is 
 not yet slaked. Every day some Frenchmen must cut other 
 Frenchmen's throats." 
 
 " If I had known, sir, that my petition was likely to dis- 
 please you "
 
 SLANDER. i6i 
 
 " Listen to me, M. de Mergy. I might, perhaps, do vio- 
 lence to my sentiments as a Christian, and excuse your 
 brother's action in giving the challenge. Hut according to 
 public report his conduct in the duel which followed was 
 not " 
 
 " What mean you. Admiral ?" 
 
 " That the fight was not conducted in a loyal manner and 
 according to the custom of French gentlemen." 
 
 "Who has dared to spread so infamous a slander ?" cried 
 George, his eyes flashing with rage. 
 
 " Be calm. You can send no challenge on this score, for 
 as yet we do not fight with women. Comminges's mother 
 has given the King details which do nut reflect credit on 
 your brother, and which may, perhaps, e.xplain how so 
 redoubtable a swordsman succumbed thus easily to the 
 blows of a boy scarcely out of pagehood." 
 
 "A mother's sorrow is deep and sacred,' said George. 
 " Is it surprising that she cannot see the truth through eyes 
 still bathed in tears ? I cannot but hope, sir, that you will 
 abstain from condemning my brother on the faith of Madame 
 de Comminges's story." 
 
 Coligny seemed moved, and his voice lost something of 
 its sharply ironical tone. 
 
 " Yet you cannot deny that Beville, Comminges's second, 
 is your own intimate friend ?" 
 
 " I have indeed known him long, and owe him something. 
 ]5ut Comminges was as intimate with him as I, and Com- 
 niinges himself chose him for his second. Besides, Beville's 
 gallantry and honour put him above all suspicion of disloyal 
 conduct. " 
 
 The Admiral pursed his mouth in deep disdain. 
 
 "The honour of Beville!" he repeated, shrugging his
 
 i6; 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 slioulders. " The honour of an Atheist ! ol a man 
 ^^L,^, steeped in debauchery ! " 
 
 "Yes!" cried the captain, laying stress on 
 
 his words, " Beville is a man of honour. But 
 
 iiyi.' ^' ; why all this talk? Was I not myself 
 
 WW 
 
 te"! 
 
 
 " / ' 
 
 
 111 
 
 4 present at this duel ? Is it for you, 
 
 Sir Admiral, to question the 
 honour of our house and 
 accuse us of assassination ?" 
 
 There was a touch of menace in his 
 tone ; but Coligny either did not under- 
 stand, or despised, the allusion to the murder 
 of Duke Francis of Guise, which Catholics in their hatred 
 had attributed to himself. His features even relapsed into 
 unruUled calm.
 
 SLAXDEJ^. 1 6;, 
 
 " M. de Mergy," said he in a coUl and contemptuous tone, 
 " a man who has denied his faith has lost the ri;;ht to talk 
 of his honour, for none would believe in it." 
 
 The captain's face first flushed purple, and then luriicd 
 deadly pale. He fell back a step, as though to avoid the 
 temptation of striking the oUl man. 
 
 "Sir!" he cried, "your ag(> and your rank allow you lo 
 insult with impunity the most precious possession of a poor 
 gentleman. But I beg of you to bid one of your followers, 
 or more than one, to endorse the words which you have 
 spoken. I swear, by God, that they shall swallow those 
 words till they choke." 
 
 " That may be a practice with the gentry called raffincs. 
 I follow not their manners, and 1 discard those of my gen- 
 tlemen who imitate them." 
 
 And he turned his back on George as he spoke. The 
 captain, with fury in his heart, left the Hotel de Chatillon, 
 sprang on his horse, and, as if to relieve his wrath, made the 
 poor animal gallop at full speed by digging his spurs into his 
 sides. In his headlong career he just escaped riding down 
 no small number of peaceable passers-by ; and it may be 
 considered lucky that not a single specimen of the rojfmt'S 
 themselves met him, for in the temper in which he was he 
 would certainly have lost no occasion of drawing sword. 
 
 When he had irot as far as X'incennes his heated blood 
 began to cool. He turned bridle, and brought his horse, 
 drenched in sweat and blood, back towards Paris. " Poor 
 friend!" said he, smiling bitterly, " 1 am punishing you for 
 his insult to myself." And patting the innocent victim's 
 neck, he rode slowly back to his brother's house, where, 
 omitting all the details of the conversation, he simply toKl 
 Mergy that the Admiral refused to interfere. 
 
 \
 
 164 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CflARI.ES IX. 
 
 But a IV'W minutes afterwards I)cville came in, and, 
 throwing' himselt forthwith on Mergy's neck, said, " Congra- 
 tulations, my dear fellow ! Here is your pardon, which you 
 owe to the Queen's intercession." 
 
 Mergy was less surprised than his brother, and in his 
 heart of hearts he ascribed this favour to the veiled lady, 
 that is to say, to Madame de Turgis.
 
 
 
 
 CHAP T E R XIV. 
 
 THE ASSIGNATION. 
 
 "Madame to this saloon will shortly Halk, 
 And begs the favour o( a moment's talk."' 
 
 MOLIERE, Tarttife. 
 
 MERGY resumed his share of his brother's apartments ; 
 he paid a visit of thanks to the Queen-Mother, 
 and reappeared at Court. But he had scarcely .set foot 
 in tlie Louvre when he perceived that he had in some sort 
 fallen heir to the consideration which Comminges had 
 enjoyed. People whom he (nily knew h)' sight bowed to
 
 i66 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 him with an air of humble attempt at intimacy ; men, as they 
 spoke to him, hid their envy but ill under a markedly polite 
 outside, and the ladies' eyes rained provocations upon him, for 
 at that time to obtain the reputation of a successful duellist 
 was the surest road to their hearts. To have killed three 
 or four men in single combat supplied the want of good 
 looks, of wealth, and of wit. In short, as our hero showed 
 himself in the gallery of the Louvre, he heard whispered 
 remarks all rnuntl hiiu. " There is young Mergy, who killed 
 Comminges 1" " How young he is I " " What a good figure! " 
 " What an air!" "What a well-curled moustache !" " Is it 
 known who his mistress is ?" 
 
 But Mergy looked in vain thrt)ugh the crowd for the blue 
 eves and black eyebrows of Madame de Turgis. He even 
 made a visit at her house : but he learnt that shortly alter 
 Comminges's death she had left for one of her estates, which 
 was some twenty leagues from Paris. If ill tongues were 
 to be believed, her sorrow at the death of her lover had 
 forced her to seek a retreat where she might nurse her grief 
 undisturbed. 
 
 One morning, while the captain, stretched on a sola, was 
 reading as he waited lor breakfast " The \ ery Horrific Lite 
 of Pantagruel, " and while his brother was taking a lesson on 
 the guitar from Signor Uberto Vinibella, a lackey came to 
 tell Bernard that an old woman, very decently dressed, was 
 waitine for him in the lower hall, and that she had asked for 
 an interview with an air of mystery. He went down at 
 once, and received from the sunburnt hands ot a dame 
 wdio was neither Martha nor Camilla, a letter breathing 
 sweet perfumes. It was fastened with a golden thread and 
 a larre seal of ureen wax, whereon, instead of arms, nothin"; 
 was seen but a cupid with linger on lip, and the Spanish
 
 THE ASSIGNATIOX. 167 
 
 motto " Cai.i.ai)."' He opened it, and found only one line 
 in the same lan^'uao'e, which he construed with st)me diffi- 
 culty : " Esla noc/n\ icii.i daiiia espera a I '. ;!/." '' 
 
 " Who gave you this letter ?" said he to the old woman. 
 
 •'A lady." 
 
 " Mer name ?" 
 
 " I know not; she says she is a .Spaniard." 
 
 " How does she know me ?" 
 
 The crone shrugged her shoulders. " Your reputation 
 l(jr gallantry has brought this ugly affair on \i)u, " she said 
 sarcastically. " Pnit answer mc, will yon come J" 
 
 " Where am I to go ?" 
 
 " Be this evening, at hall-past eight o'clock, in the church 
 of -St. dermain I'Au.xerrois, towards the leftside of the nave." 
 
 " And shall I see this lady at church ?" 
 
 " No; someone will be there to conduct you to her. luit 
 be iliscreet, and come alone." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " You promise .''" 
 
 " I pledge you my word." 
 
 " Farewell, then ; and follow me not. ' 
 
 She curtseyed low, and departed. 
 
 'AVell, what did my lady go-between want with \ou?" 
 asked the captain, when his brother had gone upstairs antl 
 the music-master had taken his leave. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," said Mergy carelessly, and examining 
 attentively the Madonna of which mention has been made. 
 
 " Come, no secrets with me. Must I escort you to an 
 assignation } Shall I mount guard in the street, and keep 
 off rivals with the tlat ol my sword ?" 
 
 ' " Be silent.'" 
 
 " " .\ lad)' expects you this evening.'
 
 1 68 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Nothiny- of the kind, I tell you." 
 
 " Oh, just as you like. Keep your counsel if you please ; 
 but I will bet that you are at least as much dying to tell as I 
 am to know." 
 
 Mergy, with an absent air, twitched the strings ol his 
 guitar. 
 
 " By the way, George," said he, " I shall not be able to go 
 and sup to-night with M. de Vaudreuil." 
 
 " Oho! it is for to-night, then ? Is she pretty ? Is she a 
 Court lady, or a citizen's wife, or a trader's ?" 
 
 " Really I do not know. I am to be introduced to a lady 
 who is not of this country ; but who it is I know not." 
 
 " But you know at least where the meeting-place is V 
 
 Bernard showed him the note, and repeated what the 
 crone had said. 
 
 "It is a feigned hand," said the captain ; "and I do not 
 know what to think of all these precautions. ' 
 
 " She must be some great lady, George." 
 
 " How like these youngsters that is! To ianc)', on the 
 least excuse, that queens and princesses are going to fling 
 themselves at their heads!" 
 
 " But smell the perfume which the letter breathes." 
 
 " What on earth does that prove ? " 
 
 The captain's brow suddenly darkened as a sinister 
 thought occurred to his mind. 
 
 " The Comminges are not a forgiving family," said he ; 
 "and this letter may be only a trick of theirs to decoy you 
 into some out-of-the-way corner, where they will make you 
 pay dear for the dagger-thrust which gave them their 
 inheritance." 
 
 " A pretty notion ! " 
 
 " It would not be the hrst time that Love has been made
 
 TflE .ISS/G.VAT/O.y. 169 
 
 to do Revenge's work. You luive read your Bil)le : re- 
 member Samson and the traitress Delilah." 
 
 " I should be a coward indeed if such an improbable 
 guess made me baulk a meeting which may be so charming. 
 A Spanish lady !" 
 
 " At any rate, go well armed. If you like, you can have 
 the two lackeys." 
 
 " Fie on you ! What ! call the whole town to witness 
 my good fortune ? " 
 
 " It is quite usual now," said (jeorge. " I have often seen 
 my good friend D'Ardelay setting out to visit his lady-love 
 with a mail shirt on his back, a pair of pistols in his belt, and 
 four soldiers of his company marching behind him, each man 
 with a loaded petronel. You don't know Paris yet, my 
 friend ; and you may take my word for it, too much fore- 
 thought never does harm. You have nothing to do but to 
 take your mail shirt off when it is in the way." 
 
 " I do not feel the least anxiety. If Comminges's relations 
 had a grudge against me, they could have attacked mc any 
 night in the streets." 
 
 " Well, then, I will let you go ; but only on condition 
 that you take your pistols." 
 
 " As you like ; but I shall be laughed at for doing it." 
 
 "Nor is that all. You must make a good dinner, and 
 eat two partridges and plenty of cock's-comb past}-, that you 
 may do credit to the race of Mergy to-night." 
 
 Bernard retired to his room, where he spent at least four 
 hours in combing and curling his hair, in perfuming himself 
 and finally in arranging eloquent discourse intended for the 
 benefit of the fair unknown. 
 
 I may leave my readers to guess whether he was 
 punctual at the meeting-place or not. Hi' had pacctl the 
 
 -m-
 
 170 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHART.ES 1\ 
 
 church for full half an hour, and had -'♦^ 
 
 alread)' thrice counted the candles, the /^ „|i 
 
 pillars, and the votive offerings, when ^ ' 
 an old woman, carefully enveloped in 
 a brown cloak, took his hand, and. withtnit 
 speaking a word, led hini iiitn 
 the street. She conducted hi 
 still in perfect silence, by 
 several twists and turns into 
 a very narrow and apparentl}' i 
 uninhabited alley. At the 
 ver\' end t)t it, she stopped 

 
 THE ASSIGNATION. 
 
 in front of a d 
 
 oor 
 
 srnal 
 
 the \va\- in, 
 V fol- 
 
 arciiccl, and very low — whicli 
 
 liklllii V)| drawn from her iK)cket. 
 She led 
 
 and Meroy 
 owed, holding- her 
 cloak to guide him- 
 sell throuoh the 
 darkness. Nor 
 
 had he sooner 
 entered than he 
 heard huge bolts 
 drawn behind hiin. 
 His guide then 
 warned him in a 
 whisper that he 
 was at the foot of 
 a staircase, and 
 that there were 
 twenty-seven steps 
 to mount. The 
 stair was very nar- 
 row, and the worn 
 and irregular steps 
 more than once 
 nearly brought him 
 down; but at length, 
 after the twent)- 
 step and a small 
 landing were passed, the old 
 woman opened a door from 
 I flood of light dazzled Mergy's 
 
 seventh
 
 172 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 eyes for the moment. Then he set foot in an apartment 
 much more elegantl)' turnished than the external appearance 
 of the house promised. 
 
 The walls were covered with flowered tapestry, a little 
 faded, perhaps, but still in perfectly good condition. In the 
 midst of the room he saw a table, lighted with two candles of 
 rose-coloured wax, and covered with various kinds of fruit 
 and cakes, together with glasses and flasks of crystal ; the 
 latter filled, as it .seemed, with different kinds of wine. Two 
 large chairs, placed at the two ends of the table, waited 
 apparently for the guests. In a recess, half closed by silken 
 curtains, was a bed of very ornate design, covered with 
 crimson satin, while more than one incense-burner shed a 
 voluptuous perfume over the apartment. 
 
 The crone took oft' her mantle ; and Mergy, doffing his 
 cloak, at once recognized the messenger who had brought 
 him the letter. 
 
 " Saint Mary ! " cried she, as she saw his sword and 
 pistols, "do you think you have got to hew down giants .'' 
 there are no sword-blows, fair knight, to deal here." 
 
 " I hope so ; but it may be that some brothers or an ill- 
 tempered husband may disturb the meeting ; and in that 
 case here is something to keep them quiet with." 
 
 " You need fear nothing of that kind here. But tell me, 
 how do you like the room ? " 
 
 " It is a fair chamber, doubtless ; yet should I grow 
 weary of it if I had to sta)- here alone." 
 
 " You shall have company anon. But meanwhile you 
 must promise me something.^' 
 
 "What.?" 
 
 " If you are a Catholic, you must lay )our hand on this 
 crucifix," and she took one from a cupboard ; " if you are a
 
 THE ASSIGNATION. 173 
 
 Huguenot, you must swtar by Luther, by Calvin, by all 
 your gods — in short " 
 
 " But what must I swear ? " said he smiling. 
 
 " You must swear to make no attempt to find out who is 
 the lady who is coming here." 
 
 "Tis a hard condition." 
 
 " See, now : )ou must swear, or I shall take you back 
 into the street." 
 
 " There, then ; you have my word for it, and tl-fet is as 
 good as the foolish oaths you propose." 
 
 " 'Tis well. Now wait patiently ; eat and drink, if you 
 care to do so ; and without delay you shall see the Spanish 
 lady come." 
 
 She took her mantle and went out, double-locking the 
 door. 
 
 Mergy threw himself into a chair. His heart beat vio- 
 lently ; and he felt an emotion as strong as that which he 
 had e.xperienced a few days before, when about to meet his 
 enemy in the Pre-aux-Clercs, and perhaps of no very diffe- 
 rent nature. A deep silence reigned throughout the house ; 
 and a mortal quarter of an hour passed, during which his 
 fancy painted by turns Venus stepping from the tapestry to 
 throw herself into his arms, the Countess de Turgis in her 
 hunting habit, a princess of the blood royal, a gang of 
 assassins, and then — idea more horrid still than this! — an 
 old woman in lo\e with him. 
 
 Suddenly, without the least preliminary noise to show that 
 anyone had entered the house, the key turned quickly in 
 the lock ; the door opened and shut, as if automatically, the 
 moment a masked lady had stepped into the room. 
 
 Her stature was tall and well proportioned. A gown 
 fitting closely to her bust showed the grace of her figure ;
 
 174 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 but neither the tiny foot shppered in white velvet, nor the 
 httle hand unUickily covered with an embroidered glove, 
 could give any clear indication of the incognita's age ; yet 
 somethini;- — mas^netic intluence, instinct, or what not — made 
 him guess that she was not more than five-and-twenty. 
 Her costume united simplicity, splendour, and elegance. 
 
 Mergy rose at once, and bent knee before her. The lady 
 advanced one step, am.! then said in a sweet voice : 
 
 " Lhas OS guai'dc. caballcro. Sea I'. J/, cl bicn vcnidoy ' 
 
 Mergy gave a start oi surprise. 
 
 '' Habla V. M. espanol f"' 
 
 But he spoke no Spanish, and could hardly understand 
 any. 
 
 The lady seemed ve.xed ; but she allowed Mergy to lead 
 her to one ot the chairs, in which she sat, motioning to him 
 to take the other. Then she began the conversation in 
 French, but with a ioreign accent, which was sometimes 
 very marked, and, as it were, exaggerated, while at other 
 times it did not appear at all. 
 
 " .Sir, )our valiancy has m;ide me forget the reserve cus- 
 tomary with my sex. I wished to see so accomplished a 
 cavalier, and I find him none other than repute has asserted. " 
 
 Mergy blushed and bowed. " Will )ou, madame, " said 
 he, " be so cruel as to preserve that mask, which like an 
 envious cloud hides from me the rays of the sun .'' " Now 
 he had read this phrase in a book translated trom the 
 Spanish. 
 
 "Sir Cavalier, if I find )'our discretion to be of proof \'Ou 
 shall see me more than once face to face ; but tor to-day )ou 
 must be content with the })leasures of conversation. " 
 
 ' " (iod keep you. Sir. Weli dnic." 
 '"' " Do you speak .Sj)ani>li ? "
 
 THE ASSIGXA riON. 
 
 175 
 
 " Ah, madame, that pleasure, l)y its very greatness, makes 
 me long but more violently to see you." 
 
 He was kneeling at her feet, and seemed as though he 
 would raise the mask. 
 
 " Poco d poco,^ Sir Frenchman ! You go too fast. Resume 
 your seat, or I leave you this moment. If you knew who I 
 am and what I dare in order to see you, yuu would be con- 
 tent with the mere honour that I do you in coming' hither." 
 
 " Trul)-, I think xour voice is not unknown to me." 
 
 " Yet you have never heard it before. Tell me, coLild )'ou 
 love faithfully a woman who loved you .''" 
 
 "Since I have hern with \ou I have; telt " 
 
 ■ail and soltlv.
 
 176 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 " You have never seen me, so you cannot love me. You 
 do not know whether I am fair or foul." 
 
 " I am sure you are charming." 
 
 The incognita withdrew her hand which he had seized, 
 and lifted it to her mask as though she would take it oft". 
 
 " But what would )ou do if you saw before you a woman 
 fifty years old and frightfully hideous ?" 
 
 " That is impossible." 
 
 " Yet at fifty one can love still." -She sighed as she spoke, 
 and the young man shuddered. 
 
 " Your charming form, your hand that you are trying in 
 vain to rob me of, all things prove your youth." 
 
 But there was more o-allantrv than assurance in this 
 speech. 
 
 " Alas ! ' she sio^hed. 
 
 Mergy began to be really alarmed. 
 
 " Love is not enough for you men," she said ; " you must 
 have beauty too." And she sighed once more. 
 
 " Let me, I implore you, take oft this mask " 
 
 "No, no!" and she repulsed him briskly. "Remember 
 your promise ! " But then she added in a gayer tone, " I 
 should run too much risk in unmasking. I like to see you 
 at my feet ; and if perchance I were neither young nor fair — 
 if you thought me neither — you might leave me disconso- 
 late." 
 
 " Show me then but that little hand of yours !" 
 
 She drew oft a perfumed glove, and held out to him a 
 hand as white as snow. 
 
 " I know that hand !" cried he. " There is but one so fair 
 in all Paris." 
 
 " Indeed ! and whose is that ?" 
 
 " A countess's."
 
 THE ASSIGNATION. 177 
 
 " What countess ?" 
 
 " The Countess de Turgis." 
 
 " Ah ! I know what you mean. Madame de Turgis has 
 white hands enough, thanks to her perfumer's ahnond paste. 
 But I think I can boast that mine are softer than hers." 
 
 All this was said very naturally ; and Mergy, who had 
 thought that he recognized the beautiful countess's voice, 
 grew doubtful, and felt as if he must give up the notion. 
 
 "Two instead of one!" thought he. " Have I a fairy 
 godmother?" And he strove to discover on the lovely 
 hand the mark of a ring which he had seen Madame de 
 Turgis wear. But the fingers, round and of perfect sym- 
 metry, showed not the slightest mark of wear, not the 
 faintest trace of being out of shape. 
 
 " Madame de Turgis !" again cried the incognita, laughing. 
 " Truly you are kind to take me for her. I trust, thanks to 
 heaven, I have a little the advantage of her ! " 
 
 " Yet, on my honour, the countess is the most beautiful 
 woman I have ever seen. " 
 
 " You love her, then ?" asked she sharply. 
 
 " Perhaps ; but I beg you, take off your mask, and show 
 me a woman fairer still." 
 
 " When I am sure that you love me, then )ou shall see 
 me face to face." 
 
 " Love you ? But, in God's name, how am 1 to love \()U 
 without seeing you ?" 
 
 " This hand is pretty : fancy my face a match for it." 
 
 "Now I kiunv you are charming; for you have just 
 betrayed yourself by dropping the disguise of j'our voice. I 
 am certain I recognized it !" 
 
 " And it is the voice of Madame de Turgis ?" said she, 
 laughing, and with a strong Spanish accent.
 
 1 78 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Exactly so." 
 
 "A mistake, a mistake of yours, Sunor Bernardo! My 
 
 name is Doiia Maria — Dona Maria de but I will tell 
 
 you my surname later. I am a lad)- of Barcelona; my 
 father, who keeps stern watch over me, has been tra- 
 velling for some time, and I profit I))' his absence to amuse 
 myself and see the French Court. As for Madame de 
 Turgis, cease, I pray you, to mention that woman to me ; I 
 hate her very name ! There is no spitefuller lady at 
 Court. And do )ou not know, too, how she became a 
 widow .■*" 
 
 " I have heard something." 
 
 "Well, then, speak ! What did they tell you ?" 
 
 " That, finding her husband paying attentions to her 
 waiting-woman, she seized a poniard, and dealt him such a 
 l)low with it that the poor man died a month afterwards." 
 
 " And the deed .seems horrible to you ?" 
 
 " Nay, I confess that I can excuse her. They say she 
 loved her husband ; and I think nobly of jealousy." 
 
 " You say that because you think \ourself in her presence, 
 but at heart you despise her." 
 
 There was a touch of sadness and melancholy in the voice, 
 but it was not now that of Madame de Turgis, and Mergy 
 was completely puzzled. 
 
 "What!" said he, "you are Spanish and }ou do not 
 respect jealousy ? " 
 
 " No more of this. What is the l)lack ribl)on that you 
 wear round )our neck } " 
 
 " 'Tis a relic." 
 
 " I thought you were a Protestant." 
 
 " -So I am, but this relic was given me by a latl}', and I 
 wear it in memor)- of her."
 
 THE ASSIGXATlOy. 179 
 
 " Ah ! if )ou wish to please nie ymi will think no more of 
 ladies. 1 would fain be more to you than all women. Who 
 gave you the reliquary ? Madame de Turgis again ? " 
 
 " Nay, truly." 
 
 •' ' lis false." 
 
 " Then you are Madame de Turgis ! " 
 
 " You have betrayed yourself, Sefior Bernardo." 
 
 "How.'" 
 
 " When I see Madame de Turgis I shall ask how 
 she came to commit sacrilege by giving a holy tiling to a 
 heretic." 
 
 Mergy's puzzlement grew deeper ever\- moment. 
 
 " But," she continued, " 1 want that relifjuar)-. Give it 
 
 me 
 
 I " 
 
 " No : I cannot." 
 
 " I will have it. Dare you refuse me ? " 
 " But I promised to return it to the giver." 
 " Bah ! a childish promise that ! 1'romi.ses made to false 
 women are not binding. Besides, take heed ! 'tis, perchance, 
 a charm, a dangerous talisman, that you wear. They say- 
 she is a great enchantress." 
 " 1 believe not in witchcraft. ' 
 " Nor in wizards .'' " 
 
 " 1 believe a little in icitclics',' and he laid stress on the 
 last word. 
 
 " Listen ! Give me the relic, and perhaps then I will take 
 off my mask." 
 
 " That is her voice this time." 
 " (^nce more, will you give me that relic ? ' 
 " I will give it you back, if you will doft your mask." 
 " Ah ! how sick I am of that Turgis of yours ! Love her as 
 much as you like ; what do I care ? ' 
 
 A .\
 
 iRo 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 She turned on her chair as if irritated ; and the satin 
 which veiled lier bosom heaved and sank rapidly. For 
 some moments she spoke not. Then suddenly turning once 
 more, she cried in mocking tones, "I'ala ntc Dios ! V. M. 
 no rs raballcro, cs nil inongc ! " ' 
 
 With a wave of her hand she upset the two tapers that 
 burnt on the table, together with half the bottles and dishes. 
 As the lights went out slie tore off her mask, ami in the 
 deepest gloom Mergy felt burning lips which sought his, and 
 a pair of arms closel)' embracing him. 
 
 ' " God for£;ive me ! V(ju are no kninlit, \ou arc a monk !" 
 
 a(M^.-S
 
 
 ■ at ^^.. --^ . 
 
 / ^ 
 
 ■ ■yAij'-^ ' 
 
 
 LllAlTKR X\. 
 
 IX Till-; HAKK. 
 " By night all cals aie grey." 
 
 1 1 \-\ clock of a neighbouring- 
 cluirch struck four. 
 " Good heavens ! four ? I shaU hardl}' 
 nave time to reach home before da)' ! " 
 " Ah, cruel love ! you would leave me so soon ? " 
 ' I must ; but we shall soon see each other again." 
 W'e shall soon see each other ? you forget, 
 dearest countess, that I have not seen you yet! " 
 
 " Never mind your countess, baby that you are ! I am 
 Doiia Maria ; and when the light comes you will see that I 
 am not she tor whom nou take me."
 
 1 8.' CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Where is the door ? I will call someone." 
 
 " No, Bernardo, let me ,i;"0 down b\- myselt ; 1 know the 
 room, and I can find a match." 
 
 " Take care not to step on the g'lass : you broke enouyh 
 last night." 
 
 " I can take care ot m_\self, thank \oii." 
 
 " What have you got there ? ' 
 
 " Ah ! 'tis my corset ! Holy \'iroin ! what shall 1 do ? I 
 cut all the laces with _\our dagger! " 
 
 " We must ask the old woman for some more." 
 
 " I )o not stir, but leave it to me. I'arewell, beloved 
 ISernardo ! " 
 
 The door opened ami shut immediately ; a long burst ot 
 laughter sounding outside. Mergy perceived that liis con- 
 (juest liad escapetl him, and tried to pursue her. l>ul in the 
 darkness he bumped against the furniture, he entangled 
 himself with garments and curtains, and he never could find 
 the door. .Suddenly it opened, and a person entered holding 
 a dark lantern. Mergy seized the lantern-bearer at once. 
 
 " Ah !" cried he, with a tender embrace, " 1 have got )ou 
 now ; you cannot escape me again ! ' 
 
 " Let me alone, M. de Mergy," said a gruft voice. " Is 
 that the way you .squeeze people ? " 
 
 He recognized the crone, and e.xclaimed, " I he de\ il take 
 \iiu ! " 
 
 Then he dressed himself without speaking, took up his 
 weapons and his cloak, ami left the house in verv much 
 the temper of a man who, after drinking fine Malaga wine, 
 swallows by his servant's carelessness a glass ol antiscor- 
 l)Utic syrup which has been lorgotten tor some \ears in the 
 cellar. 
 
 MerijX' was cautious enuuijh with his brother. lie tokl
 
 IX THE DARK. 
 
 '83 
 
 him of a Spanish lady of oreat beauty, as far as he couKl 
 judge in the absence of hght : but lie ch'd nut so much as 
 mention the suspicions whicli had occurred to liim about his 
 
 uicognita.
 
 ' -^. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER X\I 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 
 " Aiiipliilryoii. No more of this, Alcmena, I beseecli yoii. 
 Let us be serious." 
 
 MoLlERE, Aiiipliitryon. 
 
 rWO days passed without any message from the pre- 
 tended Spaniard, and on the third the brothers learnt 
 that Madame de Turgis had arrived the day before in Paris, 
 and that she would certainly go to pay her respects to the 
 Queen-Mother in the course of the day. They went at once 
 to the Louvre, and found her in a gallery surrounded by 
 ladies, with whom she was conversing. The sight of Mergy
 
 i86 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX 
 
 did not seem to cause her the slightest emotion, nor did the 
 faintest blush colour her orenerally pale cheeks ; but as soon 
 as she saw him, she nodded to him as to an old acquaintance, 
 and after the usual compliments were exchanged she leant 
 towards him and whispered : 
 
 " I hope your Huguenot obstinacy is a little shaken now. 
 Miracles were necessary to convert you." 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " What ! Have you not experienced in your own person 
 the marvellous effect of the virtue of relics ? " 
 Mergy smiled incredulously. 
 
 " The memory of the fair hand which gave me this little 
 box," said he, "and the love with which it inspired me, no 
 doubt doubled my strength and my skill." 
 
 She laughed ; but shook her finger threateningly at him. 
 " You are becoming impertinent, master cornet ! Do you 
 know who it is to whom you speak thus ? " 
 
 As she spoke she drew off her glove to arrange her hair. 
 Mergy stared at the hand, and from it carried his glance to 
 the eyes, wide-awake and wicked-looking, of the beautiful 
 countess. She burst out laughing at his astonished coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Why do you laugh .'' " said he. 
 
 " If you come to that, why do you look at me with this 
 astounded air ? ' 
 
 " Pardon me, but for some days past I have been living 
 in a state of wonder." 
 
 " Indeed .^ That must be interesting. Tell me quickly 
 some of these wondrous things which have been continually 
 happening to you." 
 
 " I cannot tell you mnc or licrc ; besides, I do not forget a 
 certain Spanish motto which I was taught three days ago."
 
 THE CONFESSION. 187 
 
 " What motto is thnt ? " 
 
 " A single word : Callad." 
 
 " What does that mean ? " 
 
 " Ah, you do not know Spanish," said he, observing licr 
 narrowly; but she bore his examination without the slightest 
 appearance of perceiving any hidden meaning in his words; 
 antl the young man, after fixing his e)es on hers, had in 
 fact to lower them soon in forced recognition of the more 
 potent spirit in those which he had ventured to challenge. 
 
 "In my chiklhood,' said she, with an air of complete 
 unconcern, " I knew a few words of Spanish, but I think I 
 have forgotten them now ; so talk French, if you wish me 
 to understand you. What does your motto mean } " 
 
 " It recommends discretion, madame." 
 
 " By my faith ! it would be a good motto for our young 
 courtiers, especially if they could manage to suit the deed 
 to the word. But )'ou are very clever, M. tie Mergj'. 
 Who taught you Spanish ? I will wager that it was a 
 lady." 
 
 Mergy looked at her tenderly, and with something of a 
 smirk. 
 
 " I know but a word or two of Spanish," said he untler 
 his breath ; " and it was love that engraved them on my 
 memory." 
 
 " Love !" repeated the countess mockingly. And as she 
 spoke quite loud, several ladies turned their heads at the 
 word, as if to ask what was the matter. 
 
 Mergy, rather piqued at her satire, and annoyed at seeing 
 himself treated thus, drew from his pocket the Spanish 
 letter which he had received from the crone, and offered it 
 to the countess. 
 
 " I have no doubt," said he, " that you are as clever as I, 
 
 B B
 
 i88 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 and that you will have no difficulty in construing this 
 Spanish." 
 
 Diane de Turgis snatched the billet, read it, or pretended 
 to read it, and, laughing consumedly, handed it to the lady 
 next her. 
 
 " Come, Madame de Chateauvieux," said she, " read this 
 love-letter which M. de Mergy has just received from his 
 mistress, and which he is good enough, as it appears, to lay 
 at my feet. The beauty of it is that I know the hand." 
 
 " Very likely," said Mergy rather bitterly, but still in a 
 low tone. 
 
 Madame de Chateauvieux read the letter ; laughed, and 
 passed it to a gentleman, who did the same to another; and 
 in a minute or two everyone in the gallery was acquainted 
 with the favour which a Spanish lady had shown to Mergy. 
 
 When the laughter ceased, the countess demanded of 
 Mergy whether he thought the lady of the letter pretty. 
 
 " On my honour, madame," said he, " I think her not 
 less pretty than yourself." 
 
 "Oh, heavens! what do you say? But you must only- 
 have seen her at nio-ht ; for I know her well. And faith ! I 
 congratulate you on your good fortune." And she began to 
 laugh more uncontrollably than ever. 
 
 " But, my pretty Diane," said Madame de Chateauvieux, 
 " why do you not tell us who this Spanish dame is who is 
 lucky enough to have secured M. de Mergy's heart?" 
 
 " Before I name her, I beg you, M. de Mergy, to declare 
 before these ladies whether you have seen your love by 
 daylight ?" 
 
 Mergy felt not a little awkward ; and his uneasiness and 
 vexation were visible on his countenance in a sufficiently 
 amusing manner. But he held his tongue.
 
 THE CONFESSION. 189 
 
 " Not to make mysteries," said the countess, " this note is 
 from the Seiiora Uona Maria Rodriguez. I know her 
 writing as well as my lather's. " 
 
 " Maria Rodriguez ! " cried all the ladies w iih a shout of 
 laughter. 
 
 Now Dona Rodriguez was a lady of more than fifty 
 summers. She had been a duenna at Madrid; and I do 
 not know either why she had come to France, or why Mar- 
 guerite de Valois had given her a place in her household. 
 Perhaps she kept this kind of monster beside her in order 
 to set off her own charms by the contrast ; just as the 
 painters of the time tlrew on the same canvas the portrait of 
 a beauty and the caricature of her dwarf. But when IJoiia 
 Rodriguez appeared at the Louvre, she was the butt of all 
 the Court ladies for her starched air and her old-world 
 costume. 
 
 Mergy shuddered. He had seen the duenna ; and he 
 remembered with horror that the masked lady had given 
 the name of " Maria." All his memories became entangled ; 
 he was visibly chopfallen, and the laugh redoubled. 
 
 " She is a most discreet dame," said Madame de Turgis, 
 " and you could not have made a better choice. She looks 
 quite handsome when she has her false teeth in and her 
 black wig on. Besides, she is certainly not more than 
 sixt)-." 
 
 " She must have bewitched him ! " cried Madame de 
 Chateauvieux. 
 
 "Perhaps M. de Mergy is an antiquary }" asked another 
 lady. 
 
 What a pity," said one of the Queen's maidens, sighing 
 low — " what a pity that men will take such ritliculous 
 fancies ! "
 
 I9<3 
 
 CllROXICLES OF CHARLES fX. 
 
 Mergy was still ti'\ing his best to defend himself, and 
 was cutting a very foolish figure under a shower of ironical 
 congratulations, when the King appeared at the gallery's end. 
 All smiles and jokes ceased at once ; the company drew up 
 in rows to let him pass, and silence followed the tumult. 
 
 The Kins^' was reconductinLT the Admir;il, with whom he 
 
 IukI had a long interview in his cabinet. His hand 
 rested in familiar fashion on the shoulder ot Coligu)', 
 whose grey beard and Ijlack garments contrasted sharply 
 with Charles's youthful mien antl his gaily embroidered 
 dress. To see them, men might have said that the young 
 King, with discretion rare on the throne, had chosen the 
 best and wisest of his subjects as a favourite. 
 
 As they crossed the gallery, and all eyes were fi.xed on 
 them, Mer^'v heard the voice of the countess nuirmuriiiL''
 
 211 E CONFESSION. 191 
 
 low in his ear, " Do not be angry with mc, and do not look 
 at this till you are outside." 
 
 At the same moment there fell into iiis hat, which he held 
 in his hand, a sealed i)aper with something hart! inside. He 
 pocketed it, and ten minutes later, when he had leit the 
 Louvre, he opened it, and found a small key, with the words: 
 " This key opens my garden gate. To-night at ten. I 
 love you. I shall never be masked, for you again, and you 
 shall at last see Dona Maria and — ^Di.\ne." 
 
 The King, after escortiny- the Atlmiral to the end 
 of the gallery, said, " Farewell, father," clasping his 
 hands. " Vou know whether I love you ; and I know you 
 are mine, body and soul." And he followed the words with 
 a loud laugh. Then, on his way back, he stopped before 
 Captain George, and said, "To-morrow, after mass, come 
 and speak to me in ni)- cabinet." He turned his head and 
 threw a half anxious glance towards the door by which 
 Coligny had just departed ; then he left the gallerj' to closet 
 himself with the Marshal de Retz.
 
 
 / X / 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE PRIVATE AUDIENCE. 
 
 " Macbeth. Do you find 
 
 Your patience so prwioniinaiit in your nature 
 That you can let tliis go ? " 
 
 SHAKESPEARI':. 
 
 CAPTAIN GEORGE betook himself to the Louvre 
 at the appointed time. He had no sooner given his 
 name than the usher, raising a door-curtain of tapestry, 
 introduced him into the King's closet. Charles, who was 
 sitting by a small table in the attitude of one who writes, 
 motioned to him with his hand to be quiet, as if he feared 
 to lose the thread of the ideas which occupied him. So the
 
 194 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 captain remained standinL;- in a respectful posture lialf-a- 
 dozen paces from the table, and had leisure to survey the 
 apartment and to remark its ornaments in (.letail. They were 
 simple enough, consisting- of hardly anything but equipments 
 for the chase hung anyhow about the walls. A fairly good 
 picture of the Virgin, with a great branch of box above it, 
 hung between a long arquebuss and a hunting-horn. The 
 table at which the monarch wrote was covered with papers 
 and books. On the floor a rosary, and a small book of 
 " Hours," lay huddled up with nets and hawks' bells ; while 
 a large greyhound slumbered on a cushion hard by. 
 
 Suddenly the King threw down his pen with a gesture of 
 rage and a muttered oath. His head on his breast, he 
 paced the length of the room twice or thrice with ill-mea- 
 sured steps, and then, suddenly halting in tront of the 
 captain, he gazed at him in a startled fashion, as if he had 
 not noticed him before. 
 
 " Ah! 'tis you !" he cried, with a step backward. 
 
 The captain bowed to the ground. 
 
 " I am glad to see you. I had something to say to you 
 but " And he stoppc^d. 
 
 George, as he waited for the end of the sentence, stood 
 with his mouth slightly o[)en, his neck stretched forward, 
 his left foot some inches in advance of the right — in short, 
 in the e.xact position, I think, which a painter would give to 
 a figure of Attention. But the King's head dropped once 
 more on his bosom, and he seemed busy with some idea a 
 thousand leagues away from those which he had just been 
 on the point of putting into words. For some minutes there 
 was total silence, and Charles at last sat down and put his 
 hand to his brow as one wearied. 
 
 " The deuce is in the rhyme !" cried he, with a stamp and
 
 THE riilVATE AUDIENCE. 
 
 '95 
 
 
 a clang of tlic long spurs with whicli his 
 
 boots were garnished. The great hound 
 
 woke with a start, and taking the stamp for 
 
 a signal to himself, got up, came close to 
 
 the King's chair, laid his two paws on the 
 
 royal knees, and, lifting his slender hc'ad, 
 
 which rose lar above the King's, openctl 
 
 his mouth wide and yawneei in the most 
 
 unci ixmonious manner. So difficult 
 
 is it to teach dogs a courtly mode of 
 
 behaviour. 
 
 But the King drove away the tlog, 
 
 who lay down again with a 
 
 sigh, and once more, his e\es 
 
 meeting the captain's as if by chance, 
 
 ic said, "E.xcuse me, George, it is 
 
 a ' rhyme which lias driven me 
 
 to desperation. " 
 
 ' Tlie reader may ■■'Up|)ly an epi- 
 thet. Charles IX. t're(iiiently used 
 oaths, which were forcible enough in 
 all conscience, but far from elegant. 
 
 C C
 
 196 CHROXfCLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Perhaps I am in your Majesty's way ?" said the captain, 
 with anotlier deep bow. 
 
 " Not at all, not at all," said the King, risino- and puttinc;- 
 his hand on the captain's shoulder familiarly. He smiled as 
 he did it, but his smile was on the lips only, and his eyes, 
 which were far distraught, took no part therein. 
 
 " Did the chase the other day tire you ?" asked he at last, 
 evidently finding some difficulty in starting his subject. 
 " The stag made a long fight ol it." 
 
 " Sire, I should hardly be worthy to command a troop of 
 your Majesty's light horse if a day's hunting like that of the 
 day before yesterday tired me. In the late war M. de Guise 
 used to call me the Albanian, because he never saw me out 
 of the saddle." 
 
 "Yes, I have been told that )'ou are a good horseman. 
 But tell me, are you a good shot ?" 
 
 " I can use the arquebuss pretty well, sire, though I am 
 far from being your Majesty's equal at it. .Such skill is not 
 given to everyone." 
 
 "Well, you see that long piece there. Load it with a 
 
 dozen buckshot, and me if at sixty i)aces one of them 
 
 eoes wide of the l^reast of the scoundrel \'OU mav have taken 
 for mark ! " 
 
 " .Si.xty paces is a fair range ; Init I would rather not try 
 the experiment personally with a marksman like your 
 Majesty." 
 
 " And it would send a ball of the right calibre into a man's 
 body at two hundred," said the King, putting the arquebuss 
 into the captain's hands. 
 
 " It seems as oood as it is richlv mounted," said George, 
 after carefully e.xamining it, and tr) ing the lock. 
 
 " I see, brave captain, that you know something about
 
 THE PRIVATE AUDIENCE. 197 
 
 truns. Take aim with it, that I mav see how you y-o to 
 work. " 
 
 The captain obeyed, and Charles went on speaking slowly. 
 " A pretty tool is an arquebuss ! At a hundred paces, and 
 with a crook of the finger, thus, one can be sure of ridding 
 oneself of an enemy; and neither mail sliirt nor corslet will 
 keep out a good bullet." 
 
 I have already said that Charles IX., either froni a 
 trick accjuired in youth, or from natural timidity, scarcely 
 ever looked his interlocutor in the face. Hut this time he 
 looked straight at the captain with a singular expression 
 in his eyes. Cjeorge dropped his own almost without in- 
 tendino- it ; and the Kintr almost immediatelv did the same. 
 There was silence for a moment, but George was the first 
 to break it. 
 
 " Still, however adroit a man may be with firearms, lance 
 and sword are the surer weapons." 
 
 "Yes, but the ar(juebuss " and Charles smiled oddly. 
 
 Then he began again : " They say, George, that the 
 Admiral has mortalh insulted you ?" 
 
 " Sire " 
 
 " I know it ; I am certain of it. But I should like you 
 1 could wish )ou to tell me the matter yourself" 
 
 " Sire, it is true : I was speaking to him of an unlucky 
 affair in which I had the deepest interest " 
 
 " Your l)rother's duel ? Faith, 'tis a pretty fellow who 
 knows how to spit a man neatly ; I honour him ior it : 
 Comminges was a coxcomb and got his deserts. But, death 
 of my life ! how the devil did old Greybeard find occasion 
 in this to [)ick a quarrel with you ? " 
 
 " I fear that certain hapless difterences of religion, and 
 ni)- conversion, which I thought had been forgotten "
 
 198 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " I-'ortrotttn ? " 
 
 " Your Majest)' haviny set the example ut forgettint;' 
 religious differences, and your lMajebt}'s rare and impartial 
 justice beini;' " 
 
 " Learn, ni)- good fellow, that the Admiral never 
 forgets." 
 
 " Sire, 1 have had occasi(jn to perceive that," and George's 
 face darkened. 
 
 " Tell me, captain, what do )'ou mean to do ? " 
 
 " I, sire ? " 
 
 " Yes : speak frankly." 
 
 " Sire, I am too poor a gentleman, and the Admiral is too 
 old a man, for me to challenge him ; and besides, sire," added 
 he with a bow, and an attempt to make good what he thought 
 might seem to the King too bold a speech by a courtly 
 phrase, " it a duel were possible, I should tear to lose your 
 Majesty's favour by it. " 
 
 "Bah!" said the King, and he rested his right hantl on 
 George's shoulder. 
 
 " Luckily," went on the captain, " my honour is not in the 
 Admiral's hands ; and it an)one of my own rank suggested 
 any doubt ot it, then I should ask tor your Majesty's per- 
 mission " 
 
 " That means that you will not take revenge on the 
 Admiral himself? )et the tellow grows terribly insolent." 
 
 George opened his eyes in amazement. 
 
 " And yet lurther," continued the King, " he lias insulted 
 you, has grievously insulted you, ma)- the devil take me ! if 
 they say truth. A gentleman is not a footbo\-, and there are 
 things which cannot be borne even trom a prince." 
 
 " I)ut how can I avenge me ? He would think it below 
 his birth to fiyht with me."
 
 THE PRIVATE AUDIENCE. 
 
 '99 
 
 " Perhaps; but " and the Kinsr lifted the ar<iuebuss, 
 
 and took aim with it once more. 
 
 , " Do you understand ine ? " said he. 
 
 The captain fell back two steps ; for 
 the monarch's gesture was plain enoutjh, 
 and the diabolical expression of his couii- 
 
 n 
 
 
 .fmrnrnnininiiH'VKlTOij 
 
 ■ — m^i 
 
 tenance rave it only too clear a comment. 
 
 " What ! sire, jou would advise 
 
 me- 
 
 P" 
 
 
 The King- struck the butt of the gim 
 violently on the floor, and cried, looking 
 
 07223 '^^ ^^^^ captain with angry eyes: 
 
 " 1 aehise 
 \()u I \\\ the 
 body ot God ! 
 I advise )'ou 
 nothing ! " 
 
 Not know- 
 ing what to an- 
 swer, George 
 did what man)- 
 people would have done in his 
 place. He bowed, and looked at the 
 ground. 
 Hut the King soon went on in a milder tone : 
 " Still, if )-ou happenetl to let ll_\- at him in order to avenge 
 \()ur lK)nour. I canncjt sa\' that I sh^iuld greatly care. I5\'
 
 200 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 the Pope's bowels! a gentleman has no more jirecious 
 possession than his honour, and there is nothing he may not 
 do to make it safe and smmd. Besides, these Chatillons 
 are as proud and insolent as the hangman's understrappers. 
 The rascals would twist my neck, I know, if they could, and 
 take my place. Why, sometimes when I see the Admiral 
 my fingers itch to tear his beard out." 
 
 But to this flow of language from a man (ordinarily sparing 
 of speech, the captain answered never a word. 
 
 " Well ! " continued the King, " what in God's name are 
 you going to do ? In your place I would wait for him as he 
 comes from his accursed meeting-house, and send a good 
 arquebuss charge from a window into his loins. IM)' cousin 
 of Guise would be grateful enough to you, by Jove ! and you 
 would have done much for the peace of the kingdom. Do 
 \()U not know that this heretic is more king ot ]• ranee than 
 I am nnself ? I am sick of it ; I tell )OU frankly what I 
 
 think ; we must teach the not to touch the honour of a 
 
 gentleman. A hole drilled through the skin is fair pay for 
 a wound given to honour." 
 
 " A gentleman's honour is not mended but ended by 
 assassination. " 
 
 The answer came on the King like a thunderbolt. JNIotion- 
 less, his hands stretched towards the captain, he still clutched 
 the arquebuss which he had seemed to offer as an instrument 
 of vengeance. His lips were bloodless and halt-parted, and 
 his haggard eyes, fixed on those of George, seemed at once 
 to e.xercise and undergo a horrid tascination. At last the 
 gun dropped from his <]uivering grasp, and echoed as it fell 
 on the floor. The captain darted at once to pick it up, and 
 the King .sat down in his chair, dropping his head in his 
 sombre fashion on his breast, while the twitching of his
 
 THE FN I \- ATE AUDIENCE. 
 
 eyebrows ami liis month gave evidence of the struggle 
 wliicli was going on in his heart. 
 
 " Captain," said he after a long 
 silence, " where is your troop of 
 light horse ?" 
 
 " At Meaux, sire." 
 " In a daj' or two you will join 
 t and bring it yourself to Paris. 
 
 n \es, in a day or two you 
 
 will have your orders ; farewell ! " 
 and his voice still rang harsh and 
 angrily. The captain bowed 
 deeply, and Charles, pointing to 
 the closet door, informed him that 
 his audience was finished. 
 
 He was departing backwards 
 with the usual ceremonial bows, 
 when the King, rising sharply, 
 seized his arm — 
 
 " Keep your mouth shut at 
 least ! You understand ? " 
 
 George bowed once more, and 
 laid his hand on his heart. As 
 he left the room he heard the 
 King harshly calling his grey- 
 hound, and cracking his dog- 
 whi]), as if inclined to \'ent his 
 wrath on the innocent animal. 
 As soon as he was at home the captain 
 wrote the following missive, which he 
 con\eyed to the Admiral : " One who loves )-ou not, 
 but lovt^s honour, bids )-ou l)eware of the Duke of Guise,
 
 202 C//RO.yfC/.ES OF CIIARLKS IX. 
 
 and, it may be, of someone mightier still. Your life is in 
 danger." 
 
 But the letter produced no eftect on Coligny's dauntless 
 soul. All know that shortly afterwards, on the 22nd of 
 August, 157.'?, he was wounded with an anjuebuss-shot l:)y 
 a wretch named Maurevel, who received irom the deed the 
 nickname of " The Kinsj's lUitcher."
 
 
 CIIAITI'R X\III. 
 
 rill': CATia IIL'MKV. 
 
 " 'Tis plcasiiii^ lu lie sclinolfd in a 
 
 sirnnge longue 
 Hy feniaie lips and eyes." 
 
 Lord Byron, Don /mm, 
 L-anto ii. 
 
 
 W 
 
 rHKX two li>\'ci's 
 
 are v('r\' cautions, 
 
 sonn'timcs a whole week 
 
 or more passes before the 
 
 pubh'c is admitted to their 
 
 secret. At the end of 
 
 that time prudence 
 
 gives herself a 
 
 holida\- ; precau- 
 
 ^ tion begins to • 
 
 ai)|)ear ridiculous. 
 Somebod\- intercepts a glance with little difficult) , construes 
 it with still less, and then all is known. 
 
 I) I) 
 
 4*i 
 
 .W
 
 204 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES JX. 
 
 Thus no lonfT time passed before the connection of the 
 Countess de Turgis and the younger Mergy ceased to be a 
 secret for Catherine's Court. A crowd of convincing proofs 
 would have been enough to open even bhnd eyes. For 
 instance, Madame de Turgis usually wore lilac ribbons; and 
 rosettes of lilac ribbons adorned Bernard's sword-hilt, the 
 skirts of his tloublet, and his shoes. The covmtess had 
 made no secret of her dislike for a beard, and her liking for 
 a smartly turned-up moustache ; now for some short time 
 Mergy's cliin had been always carefully shaved, while his 
 moustache — ferociously ciu'led, stiffly pomaded, and combed 
 with a leaden comb — described a crescent, the points of 
 which soared considerably above his nose. And people 
 even had the impudence to say that a certain gentleman, 
 who had occasion to go forth very early, and was passing- 
 through the Rue des Assis, had seen the countess's garden 
 gate open, and a man come forth, whom, notwithstanding the 
 fact that his face was completely envelo|)ed in his cloak, he 
 had had no difificulty in recognizing as the Seigneur de Mergy. 
 
 But the most convincing proof of all, and the most sur- 
 prising to the world, was the sight of the )oung Huguenot 
 — the pitiless clerider of all the ceremonies of the Catholic 
 fiith — assiduously frequenting the churches, never missing 
 a procession, and even dipping his fingers in hoi)- water, 
 which a day or two earlier he would have regarded as 
 hideous sacrilege. Men whispered that Diane had gained 
 a soul for heaven ; and young gentlemen of the Protestant 
 faith made it known that they were not indisposed to con- 
 sider the question of conversion seriously, if, instead of 
 Capuchins and b'ranciscans, missionaries to them were 
 selected from youthful and pious beauties like Madame de 
 Tureis.
 
 THE CATECHUMEN. 205 
 
 Yet Bernard was a lon^- way fnjin Ijcing converted. 
 Certainly he went to cluirch with the countess ; but then he 
 kept at her side, and never ceased whispering in her ear 
 during the whole mass, to the great scandal of the faithful. 
 By this means he not only escaped listening to the service 
 himself, but also prevented devout persons from attending 
 to it as they ought to have done. As for processions, it 
 is well known that in those days they were mere pleasure 
 parties, as full of amusement as a masquerade. And lastly, 
 Mergy had given up his scruple about dipping his fingers 
 in holy water, simply because it gave him the occasion of 
 publicly squeezing a pretty hand which never touched his 
 without a (]uiver. Ho\vevc;r, if he kept his faith, he had to 
 fight stoutly for it ; and Diane had all the greater advantage 
 in her controversies with him, that she generally chose, for 
 the purpose of theological discussion, the particular moments 
 when it was hardest for Mergy to refuse her anything. 
 
 " Dear Bernard," said she one evening, resting her heatl 
 on her lover's shoulder, while she twined her long black 
 tresses round his neck — "dear Bernard, you were at church 
 to-day with me. Did that beautiful sermon produce no 
 effect on your heart ? Will you always be stubborn ? " 
 
 " Ah, dearest ! how can you believe that a whining 
 Capuchin can do what )-ou have not done with )our sweet 
 voice, and with religious arguments so well reinforced by 
 my Diane's loving looks ? " 
 
 "Sinner! I should like to strangle you !" And pulling 
 one of her locks a little lighter, she drew him still closer to 
 herself 
 
 " Do you know how I s[)ent st'rmon-time .'' " asked he. 
 " In counting the pearls in }our hair. Only see how you 
 have spilt them about the x(m\\\ ! "
 
 2o6 
 
 dfliOXJCLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 '■ 1 knew it ! ^'uu did . not listen to the sermon ! It is 
 always the same story- Ah ! " said she a little sadly, " well 
 do I see that )Ou lo\e me not as I lo\'e \ou. It you diti, 
 \ou would have been converted lonL;" a^o." 
 
 " But, I )iane ! why this eternal argument ? Let us leave 
 it to the Sorhonne doctors anil to our preachers ; and let us 
 pass our own time better I" 
 
 " Let me oo ! If onU' I could sa\'e \()U, how haj)py 
 I shoLikl be ! \\ h_\', m\- Bernardo, to do that, I would 
 double the number ol )ears that I shall have to spend in 
 purgatory ! " 
 
 He smiled, and |)ressed her in his arms ; but she repulsed 
 him with an air ol ineftable saelness. 
 
 " You would not tlo that for me, Bernard. You care 
 nothing' for the risk my soul runs when I give myself thus 
 to you !" And the tears suffused her beautiful e\es.
 
 THE CATECHU MEM. 207 
 
 " Dearest love, do you not know tliat for love's sake many 
 sins are forgiven ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know that. But if I could save you, all my sins 
 would be forgiven me : all those we have done — all those 
 we may do hereafter — (/// would he pardoned. Na\', our 
 very sins themselves would have been but the instruments 
 ot our saKation ! " 
 
 And as she spoke she tightened her arms round him with 
 all her strength ; )'et the passionate exaltation with which she 
 spoke had, in the particular situation, something so comical 
 about it, that Mergy felt some difficulty in preventing a 
 biu'st ot laughter at this singular fasliion ot exhorting. 
 
 ■' Let us put our conversion off a little longer, my Diane," 
 said he. " When we are both old : when we are too old to 
 love, then " 
 
 "Ah, wicked love! you drive me to despair! W'h) this 
 diabolical smile on \our lips ? Do you think I long to kiss 
 them when they look like that ? " 
 
 " But )ou see I am not smiling now. " 
 
 "Come, be quiet; and tell me, qncrido Bcriiai-do, did }ou 
 read the book I gave \ou ? " 
 
 " Yes. I finished it yesterday." 
 
 " Well, what do you think of it .■* There is reasoning for 
 vou ! — reasoning to shut the mouth of the infidel ! " 
 
 " Your book, my beloved Diane, is only a larrago of 
 nonsense and irrelevance. It is the foolishest that has yet 
 come from your Popish press ; and I will be't that, boldly 
 as you speak of it, you have never read it. " 
 
 " No," she answered, blushing a little; " I have not read 
 it yet. But I am sure it is full of truth and reason. I do not 
 want an\' other proof than the persistence of the Huguenots 
 in cr\in!j' it down."
 
 2o8 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 "Then shall I, to amuse you, go through it Bible in 
 hand ?" 
 
 "Oh ! never, Bernard ! Mercy on me, I am not a Bible- 
 reader, like you heretics. I will not have you weaken my 
 faith. And besides, you would only lose your labour. You 
 Huguenots are always so desperately ready witli your 
 learning ; you throw it in our teeth when you argue ; and we 
 poor Catholics, who have not read Aristotle and the .Scrip- 
 tures like you, do not know what to answer." 
 
 " That is because you choose to believe at any cost, 
 without giving yourselves the trouble to find out whether 
 belief is reasonable or not. Now we at least study our 
 religion before defending it, and, above all, before trying to 
 make converts of others." 
 
 " I would I had the eloquence of Father Giron, the 
 Franciscan." 
 
 " He is a fool and a babbler. But he might shout as loud 
 as he liked six years ago in a public discussion ; our minister 
 Houdart put him down." 
 
 "A story — a heretic story !" 
 
 " What ? Do you not know that in the course of the 
 debate great drops of perspiration were seen to fall trom the 
 good father's brow on the Chrysostom he held in his hand ? 
 Whereon a wit made these verses " 
 
 " I will not hear them ! Do not poison my ears with your 
 heresy. Bernard ! my beloved Bernard ! I adjure you 
 listen not to all these ministers of .Satan, who deceive you 
 and lead \ou hellwards. I implore you, save your soul and 
 come back to the Church !" A.nd as, despite her entreaties, 
 she still read on her lover's lips the smile of unbelief — " If 
 vou love me," she cried, "renounce for me, for my sake, 
 \our danuiable beliels."
 
 THE CATECHUMEN. 
 
 209 
 
 " I coulil nidi't' ciisily, ilcarcst, renounce my lil(; for you 
 than what reason sliows nie to l)e true, llow can \'ou wish 
 even love to prevent my l)elievinL;' that two and two make 
 four ?" 
 
 "Cruel!" she cried. lUit liernard hatl an infalhljle secret 
 for putting a stop to discussions of this kind, and he 
 employed it. 
 
 "Alas! dear Bernarilo," said the countess in a lanL,Hn'shinL;- 
 voice, when dawning day made it necessary for Mergy to 
 leave her, " I peril my soul for you, and yet, I see too well, 
 I shall not have the consolation of saving yours." 
 
 " Come, come, my angel, I'^ather Giron will give us both 
 a right absolution in ariiculomoriis." 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 1 T--J" ». . 
 
 ^?flfc-'?3^'3^?^f 

 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THK FKANX'ISCAN. 
 
 ■' A monk in tlie cloister 
 Is not worth an oyster : 
 But once set liim free 
 He is worth thirty-three." ' 
 
 THE day after the marriage of Marguerite with the 
 King of Na\arre, Captain George, by the orders of 
 the Court, left Paris in order to tal<e the command of his 
 
 ' In original — 
 
 " Monachus in claustro 
 
 Non valet ova duo ; 
 
 Sed quando est extra 
 
 Bene valet triginta." — Tniiis/ator's N'o/e. 
 
 E E
 
 212 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 trot)p of lii^dit horse, then garrisoning' Meaux. His brother 
 bade him farewell cheerfully enough ; and, hoping to see him 
 again before the end of the merrymaking, made up his mind 
 to keep house by himself for some days. He was suffi- 
 ciently busy with Madame de Turgis not to be desperately 
 afraid of a little solitude, for he was never at home by night, 
 and took his sleep by day. 
 
 On Friday, the 22nd of August, 1572, the Admiral was 
 severely wounded by an arquebuss-shot from a scoundrel of 
 the name of Maurevel. And as public rumour set this 
 cowardly attempt at assassination to the credit of the Duke 
 de Guise, that lord quitted Paris the next day, as if to be 
 out of reach of the complaints and the threats of the 
 reformers. The King seemed at first anxious to prosecute 
 him with the utmost severity ; but he made no opposition to 
 his return, which was to be marked by the terrible massacre 
 of the 24th. 
 
 It happened that a goodly company of well-mounted 
 young Protestant gentlemen, after paying a visit of inquiry 
 to the Admiral, spread themselves about the streets with 
 the intenticMi of searching out Guise or his friends and 
 picking a quarrel if they met them. Yet at first things 
 went quietly enough. The populace, alarmed at their num- 
 bers, or perhaps biding another time, were silent as they 
 passed, and heard unmoved their cries of " Death to the 
 Admiral's assassins !" and "Down with the Guisards!" 
 
 At the corner of a street some dozen Catholic youth of 
 quality, among them more than one follower of the House 
 of Guise, suddenly faced the Protestant party. A serious 
 squabble seemed likely ; but nothing of the sort happened. 
 The Catholics, perhaps from prudence, perhaps acting under 
 orders, made no answer to the insulting cries of the
 
 THE FRANCISCAlV. 213 
 
 Huguenots ; and a young man of good appearance, who was 
 at their head, advanced towards Mergy, bowed to Iiim 
 politely, and said in a familiar and friendly tone, "Good 
 day, M. de Mergy. You have seen M. de Chatillon, of 
 course ? How is he ? Have they caught the assassin ?" 
 
 The two parties halted, and Mergy, recognizing the 
 I5aron de Vaudreuil, returned his salutation and answered 
 his questions. Other remarks were exchanged between 
 individuals on both sides ; and as they were brief, the parting 
 took place without a quarrel. The Catholics yielded the 
 crown of the causeway, and each went his way. 
 
 Vaudreuil had held Mergy back for some time, so that 
 he was separated from his companions. As they parted, 
 Vaudreuil looked at Mergy's saddle, and said, " Take care ! 
 Unless I mistake, your nag is ill-girthed. Look to it." 
 Mergy dismounted and adjusted the girths; but he was 
 scarcely in the saddle again when he heard a sharp trot 
 behind him. He turned his head, and saw a young man 
 whose face he did not know, but who had been one of the 
 party they had just met. 
 
 " me!" cried the newcomer, addressing him, " 1 
 
 would I could meet, man to man, one of the fellows who 
 just now cried ' Down with the Guisards.' " 
 
 " You need not go far to find one, sir," answered Mergy. 
 ■' What can I do to oblige you ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Are you one of the rascals ?" 
 
 Mergy drew at once, and struck the Guises' friend over 
 the face with the flat of his sword. He seized a holster 
 pistol and fired it point-blank at Mergy. Luckily it llashetl 
 in the pan, and Diane's lover, replying with a stout sword- 
 blow on his foe's head, stretched him, bathed in his blood, 
 at his horse's feet. Listantly the populace, who had hitherto
 
 214 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 been neutral, took the side ot the wounded man. The young 
 Huguenot was assailed with sticks and stones ; and as resis- 
 tance against such numbers was hopeless, he set spurs to 
 his steed and gallopped oft". But just as he tried to cut a 
 corner too sharply his horse fell, and threw him without 
 hurtinir him, but also without "ivinp; him a chance of 
 mounting again (|uickly enough to save himself from being- 
 surrounded by the enraged mob. So he set his back to the 
 wall, and for some time kept off those who came within 
 sword reach. Ikit a mighty bludgeon blow having shivered 
 his blade, he was thrown to the ground, and would have 
 been torn in pieces it a cordelier, throwing himselt in front 
 of those who were pressing on, had not covered him with 
 his own body. 
 
 " What are you doing, children ? " cried he. " Let the 
 man go ! He is not to blame." 
 
 "'Tis a Huguenot!" yelled a hundred furious voices. 
 
 "Well! give him time to repent. He can still do so." 
 
 The hands which clutched Merg)' let him go : he rose, 
 and picking up his broken sword, prepared to sell his lite 
 dear if he should have to sustain a new attack. 
 
 " Let the man live ! " re[)eated the monk, " and be patient. 
 The Huguenots will all come to mass before long." 
 
 " Patience? patience?" echoed some voices angrily. "We 
 have heard that lor a long time now, and )et every Sunday 
 in their conventicles their psalm-singing offends good Chris- 
 tians ! " 
 
 "Well," said the monk cheerkilly, "do ye not know the 
 proverb, ' The owl sings long, but he grows hoarse at last ?' 
 Let them bray a little more ; ye shall soon, b)- the grace of 
 our Lady of August, hear them sing mass in Latin. But as 
 for this vounsj misbeliever, i>ive him to me. I'll make a t^ood
 
 THE FRANCISCAN. 
 
 i'5 
 
 ^ 
 
 Christian of him. Away with you, aiul don't Ijurn the roast 
 in your haste to eat. " 
 
 The crowd dispersed grumblinj^r, but offering Mergy not 
 the least insuh. They even caught his horse for him. 
 
 " This is the first time in my 
 Hfe, father," said he, " that it has 
 given me pleasure to see that 
 cloth of yours. Believe me that 
 1 am yrateful, and deisjn to take 
 this purse." 
 
 "If you mean it for the poor, 
 mv hoy, I will take it. But know 
 that I take an interest in \()u. 
 \'our brother is m\' friend, and I 
 wish )ou well. Become a con- 
 vert at once : come with me, 
 vita-' ^. - ,••-;- ' - J -^^^^ and vour business shall soon be 
 liter ' ,V' »- ■/ done. 
 
 " I thank you for 
 
 the offer, father, but 
 
 I ha\'e not the 
 
 least wish to 
 
 be converted. 
 
 How do you 
 
 know me ? 
 
 What is your 
 
 name ? ' 
 
 
 ^g-'
 
 2l6 
 
 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " They call me Brother Lubin, aiul I think, youny rogue, 
 I have seen you pretty often hanging about a certain house. 
 But mum for that. Tell me, M. tie Mergy, do you believe 
 now that a monk can do a crood deed ?" 
 
 o 
 
 " I will publish your generous conduct everywhere, 
 Brother Lubin." 
 
 " Yet you will not quit meeting for mass ? " 
 
 " Once more, no ; and I will never go to chLuxh e.\cei)t 
 to hear your sermons." 
 
 " You are evidently a man of taste." 
 
 " Yes ; and an admirer of yours to boot." 
 
 " Then I am sincerely sorry that you persist in j'our 
 heresy. I have warned you ; I have done what I could ; 
 what will come must come of it. I wash my hands. Pare- 
 well, mv child ! " . 
 
 " Farewell, father ! " and Mergy, mounting his horse, 
 made his way back to his lodgings a little bruised, but un- 
 commonly well satisfied with having got so chea|)ly out 
 of so awkward an affair. 
 
 -£5-^ 
 
 ^^'
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE LIGHT HORSEMEN. 
 
 " fafficr. He amongst us 
 
 That spares his father, brother, or his friend. 
 Is damned." 
 
 Otwav, Venice Preseifed. 
 
 ON the evening of the 24th of August a .squadron of 
 light horse entered Paris l)y the gate of Saint Antoine, 
 the dusty boots and uniforms of the troopers showing that 
 they had had a long ride. Their l)ronzed countenances
 
 2i8 CffROXfCLES OF CffARLES IK. 
 
 were lighted up li\' the last glow ot da\light ; and upon 
 these countenances might be read the vague anxiety which 
 is felt at the approach of a thing, as )et not full)' known, 
 but suspected to be of evil nature. 
 
 The troop rode slowly towards a wide expanse ot ground, 
 free from houses, which stretched alongside ol the old [jalace 
 of the Tournelles. There their captain bade them halt, 
 sent out a dozen men imder his cornet to reconnoitre, and 
 himself posted sentinels at the mouth of each adjoining 
 street, with matches burning, as it in presence of the enemy. 
 This unusual precaution taken, he returned to the front of 
 his lines. 
 
 "Sergeant!" cried he, in a harsher and more imperious 
 tone than was his wont ; and an old trooper, his hat adorned 
 with a gold stripe, and wearing an embroidered scarf 
 respectfully approached his chiet. 
 
 " Have all the troopers matches ?" 
 
 " Yes, captain." 
 
 " Are the powderdiorns full ^ Is there store of bullets ? " 
 
 " Yes, captain. ' 
 
 " It is well." Antl he walked his mare along the front of 
 his little force, the sergeant following him a horse's length 
 in the rear. He had perceived his cai)tain's ill-temper, and 
 .was shy of addressing him ; but at last he took courage. 
 
 "Captain," said he, "may I give the men leave to feed 
 their horses? )'ou know that they have not eaten since the 
 morning." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Not even a handful of oats ? It would not take long." 
 
 " Not a horse is to be disbridled." 
 
 " Because if they are to have work to-night — as men say 
 — perhaps then — - — "
 
 THE I.IGIfT IIORSEMEy. 219 
 
 The officer made a gesture of impatience. " X o your 
 post!" said he drily, and as he continued his promenade 
 the sergeant returned to the midst of the soldiers. 
 
 " W'ell, sergeant, is it true ? What is going to be done ? 
 What is up ? What does the caplaiii say ?" 
 
 A score of questions at oncc' were addressetl to him 1)\ 
 old soldiers, whom long service and old habit privileged to 
 use this liberty with their superior officer. 
 
 " We shall see fine doings," said the sergeant in the 
 important tone of a man who knows more than he sa)s. 
 
 " How .'' how } " 
 
 " We are not to take the bridles off; not for a minute. 
 Vox who knows ? we mav be needed an\- moment." 
 
 "Aha! there is going to be a fight then ? ' said the 
 trumpeter. " W^ith whom, ant please you ? " 
 
 " With whom ? ' said the sergeant, repeatmg the cpiestion 
 to give himself time to meditate an answer. " A pretty 
 question, faith ! With whom would you fight e.xcept the 
 King's enemies ? " 
 
 "Yes; but who are these enemies of the King ?" con- 
 tinued the obstinate questioner. 
 
 " The King's enemies! he does not know who the Kine's 
 enemies are," cried the sergeant, shrugging his shoulders 
 compassionately. 
 
 "The Spaniards are the King's enemies," said a trooper; 
 " but they can hardly have come up like this, in a cloud of 
 darkness, without anyone knowing it. " 
 
 " Hah !" retorted another, " I know plenty of enemies of 
 the King who are not .Spaniards." 
 
 " Bertrand is right," said the sergeant, "and I knowwhoui 
 he means." 
 
 " Who are they ? " 
 
 F F
 
 220 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " The Huguenots," said Hertrand. " One nectl not be a 
 wizard to see that. Everybody knows that the Ihiguenots 
 got their rehgion from Germany ; and I am sure the 
 Germans are our enemies, for I have otten exchanged 
 pistol-shots with them--notably at St. Ouentin, where they 
 fought hke devils." 
 
 " That Is all very fine," said the trumpeter, " but peace 
 has been made with them, and there was fuss enough about 
 it to make one remember it." 
 
 " A proof that they are not our enemies," said a young- 
 trooper, more richly dressed than the rest, " is that the 
 Count de la Rochefoucauld is to head the light horse in the 
 Wcir which we are going to wage in I'lamlers. Now every- 
 l)ody knows that La Rochefoucauld is of the religion. 
 1 )euce take me if he is not of it from head to foot, tor he 
 wears spurs a la Condc and a hat a la Hiigiiciioic." 
 
 "A plague on him ! ' cried the sergeant. "You do not 
 know. Merlin ; you had not joined then. But it was La 
 Rochefoucauld who commanded the ambush which nearly 
 fmished us off at La Robraye in Poitou. He is a wil)' 
 rascal that ! " 
 
 " And he says," added Bertrand, " that a squadron of 
 Reiters is more than a match for a squadron of light horse. 
 1 am as sure of it as that )'on horse is a roan. I heard it 
 from one of the Queen's pages." 
 
 His audience showed signs of wrath ; but this gave wa\- 
 soon to their curiosity to know against whom the warlike 
 preparations and the unusual measures of precaution which 
 they saw were being taken. 
 
 " Is it true, sergeant, ' asked the trum|)eter, " that there 
 was an attempt to kill th<; King yesterday ?" 
 
 '■ I will bet that 'twas these l)rutes ol heretics."
 
 THE TIGHT nOh'Sr.UE.V. 221 
 
 " The liost at the Cross of St. Andrew. v\ lK;re wc hrcak- 
 iasted, " said Hertraiul, "told us how lli(\ tri('d to put an 
 end to the mass." 
 
 " In that case we coulil eat meat e\ery da)," said Merlin 
 with much philosophy. " Bacon for bean soup; there is not 
 much to complain of in that." 
 
 " Yes; Init if the Hu^u(;nots rule the roast, the first tiling; 
 they will do will he to send all our light horse troops j)ackinL;, 
 and i)ut dogs of German Reiters in our place." 
 
 " If that be so, I will not be shy of skin-cuttint^ as far as 
 they are concerned. Death ol my life ! it makes me a 
 eood Catholic ao^ain ! But tell us, Bertrand, since \()u have 
 served with the Protestants, is it true that the Admiral gave 
 his troopers onl)' eight sous a day ?" 
 
 " Not a denier more, the stingy old Icnv ! so I left him 
 after one campaign." 
 
 " How cross the captain is to-da)," said the trumjieter. 
 " He, so good a fellow generally, and so readv to talk with 
 the men, has not opened his li|)s the whole joLirney." 
 
 " The news vexes him," said the sereeant. 
 
 " What news ? " 
 
 " Why, what the Huguenots mean to do." 
 
 " The civil war is going to begin again," said Bertrand. 
 
 " So much the better for us," said Merlin, who alwavs 
 took things on their chec-rful siile. " There will be 
 knocks to give, \illages to burn, ami Huguenot girls to 
 tousle." 
 
 " It seems as though they were trying to play their old 
 Amboise trick again," said the sergeant ; " and that is wh\- 
 we have been sent tor. We will set that matter right 
 enough." 
 
 At this moment the cornet returned with his detachment.
 
 222 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 and, coming- close to the captain, whispered to him, while his 
 men joined their companions. 
 
 " By my beard ! " said one of the reconnoitring party, " I 
 do not know what is going on to-day in Paris. We have 
 not seen so much as a cat in the streets ; while, to make 
 amends, the Bastille is full of troops. I saw the Swiss pikes 
 in the courtyard as thick as standing corn ! " 
 
 " There were some five hundred ol them," said another. 
 
 " What is certain," said the first speaker, " is that the 
 Huguenots tried to kill the King, and that in the tussle the 
 Admiral was wounded by the great Duke of Guise's own 
 hand." 
 
 "Ah, the scoundrel I Well done. Guise!" cried the 
 sergeant. 
 
 " And the fact is," added the trooper, " the Swiss were 
 saying, in their devil's jargon, that the heretics have been 
 put up with too long in France. " 
 
 " For some time past they have certainl) been giving 
 themselves airs," said Merlin. 
 
 " A man would say they had beaten us at [arnac and 
 Montcontour, to judge b_\- their swashing and swaggering." 
 
 " They want," said the trumpeter, " to eat the meat and 
 leave us the bone. " 
 
 " It is time," quoth another, "that good Catholics should 
 curry their hides tor them." 
 
 " For my part, ' said the sergeant, "if the King said to 
 me, ' Kill me these rascals !' may I be reduced to the ranks 
 if 1 would wait tor him to saj- it twice ! ' 
 
 "But, Belle- Rose, tell us what the cornet has done?" 
 asked Merlin. 
 
 " He spoke with some kind of .Swiss officer ; but 1 couUl 
 not hear what he said. It must have been somethinof
 
 THE LIGHT nORSRMEX. 
 
 2 -'3 
 
 interesting, for he kc[)t crying out, ' Ah. iiioii Picu ! alt ! 
 Ill oil Die II / ' " 
 
 " Look ! liere arc riders cciniing up at t'ull gallo|). They 
 must be l)ringing us orders." 
 
 "There are but two, niesecnis ; and the captain and the 
 cornet are going to meet tliem." 
 
 ^ ^ . 
 
 Two horsemen were in fact ridiny *,, 
 rapidly towards the squadron of Hght ■^,t.^^^ ^' 
 cavalry. One, richly dressed and 
 wearing a feathered hat and a green scarf, ^ 
 
 bestrode a charger. His companion was fat, and short, 
 and squat ; he was dressed in a black gi>wn, and carried 
 a large wooden crucifix. 
 
 " We are going to light, for certain," said the sergeant. 
 " 'I"hc\' have sent us a chaplain to confess the wounded." 
 
 " It is not very plea.sant to fight on an empty stomach ! " 
 muttered Merlin.
 
 224 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 The two horsemen slackened the pace ot tlieir steeds, so 
 tliat on reaching the captain they might hah them without 
 (.hfficulty. 
 
 " I kiss M. de Mergy's hands, " said the man in the green 
 scarf. " Does he recognize his servant, Thomas de Mau- 
 revel ? " 
 
 The captain was ignorant of Maurevel's latest crime, and 
 knew him only as the assassin of the brave Mouy. He 
 replied very drily : 
 
 " I do not know M. de Maurevel ; hut I suppose that 
 you have come to inform us at last why we are here ? " 
 
 " The business, sir, is to save our good King and our holy 
 religion from the danger which threatens them." 
 
 "What is that danger.'^" asked George scornfull)-. 
 
 "The Huguenots have conspired against his Majesty; 
 but their guilty plots have been discovered in time, thank 
 God, and all goeid Christians meet to-night to cut them off 
 in their sleep." 
 
 " As the Midianites were cut oft b\- Gideon the might)-," 
 said the man in tin- lilack gown. 
 
 "What do I hear?" cried Mergy, shuddering with horror. 
 
 " The citizens are in arms," went on Maurevel ; " the 
 Gardes Franqaises and three thousand Swiss are in the 
 town. We are nearly si.xty thousand strong. At midnight 
 the signal will be given, and the ball will open." 
 
 " Cut-throat \illain ! What base imposture are you 
 talking? The King does not order murders — the most he 
 does is to reward them." 
 
 But as he spoke George remembered the strange conver- 
 sation he had a day or two before with the King. 
 
 " No violence, .Sir Captain. If the King's service tlid not 
 demand all mv care 1 should ha\e an answer tor vour
 
 THE LIGHT //ORS£.]/Ei\'. 225 
 
 insults. Listen to niu. I come, sent by his Majesty, to 
 desire that you will accompany me with your squadron. 
 The Rue Saint Antoine and the adjoining district are 
 assigned to us, and I bring ycni an exact list of the persons 
 whom we must despatch. 1 lie reverend Father Male- 
 l)ouche will deliver an cxhorlalion to your peoiile, and will 
 distribute among them white crosses, such as all Catholics 
 will wear, lest in the darknt^ss the faithful should be taken 
 for heretics." 
 
 " And I am expected to lend my hand to cut the throats 
 of .sleeping men ?" 
 
 " Are you a Catholic, ami do )ou acknowledge Charles 
 IX. as your King? Do you know the writing of the 
 Marshal de Retz, to whom you owe obedience?" And 
 Maurevel handed him a paper which he had in his belt. 
 
 Mergy called a trooper, and by the light of a straw torch 
 kindled from an arquebuss-match he read a regular order 
 enjoining upon Captain de Mergy in the King's name 
 to support the civil guard with armed forces, and to put 
 himself under the orders of M. de Maurevel for a purpose 
 which the said Maurevel would explain to him. A schedule 
 to this order contained a strinsf of names, with the headinsj 
 " List of the heretics to be put to death in the Quarter of 
 .Saint Antoine." By the light of the torch burning in the 
 trooper's hands all the cavalry could see the deep emotion 
 which this order, unknown to them as yet, produced on their 
 leader. 
 
 " My troopers will never do the work of assassins !" saitl 
 George, throwing the paper back in Maurevel's face. 
 
 " There is no question of assassination," said the priest 
 coolly. " The matter concerns heretics ; and what is to be 
 clone is to execute justice on them. "
 
 226 
 
 CHROXrCLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 "Good [)copIcl" cried Maurevcl, raising' his voice and 
 addressing hims(;lf to tlie horsemen, " the Iluguenots design 
 the death of the King and the Catholics. We must antici- 
 pate them, lo-night we shah kiH them ah in their sleep ; 
 and the King grants yon the |)illage of their houses." 
 
 A shout of savage joy 
 ran along the lines: " Long 
 li\e the King!" "Death 
 to the Huguenots !" 
 
 " Silence in the ranks I " 
 thimdered the captain. 
 " No one but I has the 
 right to give orders to 
 these troopers. Comrades, 
 this wretch's words cannot 
 l)e true, and had the King 
 himself ordered it, my 
 troopers would never slay 
 defenceless men. " 
 
 The soldiers were silent, 
 hut Maurevel and his com- 
 panion shouted together, 
 "Long live the King!" 
 " Death to the Hugue- 
 nots ! ' And the troopers 
 an instant later echoed 
 Death to the Huguenots!" 
 " Well, captain, will you obey .'^ " said Maurevel. 
 " I am no longer captain ! ' cried George, tearing off his 
 collar and scarf, the insignia ot his rank. 
 
 " Seize the traitor ! " shouted Maurevel, drawing his sword. 
 " Kill the rebel who disobeys his King !"
 
 THE IJGHT HORSEMEN. 227 
 
 But not a soldieT dared to lift hand ai;ainst his cliief. 
 George struck Maurevel's sword out ol his lianel hut instead 
 of stabbing him with his own he merely smote him on the 
 face with the hilt so forcibly that he unhorsed him. Then 
 he cried out to the squadron, " Farewell, cowards ! I 
 thought my men were soldiers, but they are only assassins. 
 Tor you, Alphonse," turning to the cornet, " it you care to 
 be captain, here is your chance. Put \-ourseIt at the head ot 
 these brigands." 
 
 And with the.se words he set spurs to his horse and 
 gallopped away towards the centre of the cit)-. The cornet 
 followed him for a stride or two ; but soon he slackened his 
 horse's pace, then fell into a walk, and at last halted, wheeled 
 round, and rejoined the trtu)]), no doubt reflecting that his 
 captain's advice, though given in a moment ot wrath, was 
 none the less good to follow. Maurevel, still dizzy from 
 the blow he had received, remounted cursing ; while the 
 monk, lifting his crucitix, exhorted the soldiers not to give 
 quarter to a single Huguenot, but to drown heresy in its 
 own blood. They had been staggered for a moment by 
 their captain's reproaches; but, relieved of his presence, 
 and seeing before them an alluring prospect of plunder, 
 they brandished their sabres over their heads, and swore to 
 do whatsoever Maurevel bade them. 
 
 G (;
 
 •^ 
 
 '-Wil 
 
 -"^r> 
 
 CHAP'll'k XXI. 
 
 A LAST AirK.MlT. 
 
 "Soothsayer. IScwaic llie iilcs of Maicli." 
 
 .SlIAKK.si'KAKK, Jiillin C,i«Tf. 
 
 1 
 
 HAT same evenino-, at the usual hour, 
 
 Mergy left his house, and, well \\ra])pecl 
 
 •^L^,- _ up in a stone-coloured cloak, his hat pulled 
 
 .<^1?" ■ " over his eyes, he bent his steps with all due 
 
 discreetness towards the countess's abode. He had scarcely 
 
 made halt-a-dozen steps when he met the surgeon Ambrose
 
 230 . CHROMCLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 Pare, wlioiii he knew as having been a patient of his while 
 he was wounded. Pare was evidently coming from tlie 
 Hotel de Chatillon, and Mergy, after making himself known, 
 asked him news of the Admiral. 
 
 " lie is better," said the leech. "The wound is kindly, 
 and the patient's general health is excellent. With God's 
 grace he will get well. I hope that the draught I have 
 prescribed for him this evening will do him good and give 
 him a (piiet night." 
 
 A man of the lower class who happened to be passing 
 heard them mention the Admiral's name. As soon as he 
 was far enough off to risk an insolence without fear of 
 punishment, he shouted, " \'our devil of an Admiral will 
 dance a jig at Montfaucon before long!" and ran oh at full 
 speed. 
 
 "The rascal!" said Mergy. "'Tis pity that our great 
 Admiral should l)e obliged to dwell in a town so full of his 
 enemies. ' 
 
 " Luckily his hotel is well garrisoned," said the surgeon. 
 " I left the stairs crowded with soldiers, who were lighting 
 their matches. Ah, Monsieur de Mergy, these townsfolk 
 love us not. lUit it is late, and I nuist return to the 
 Louvre. " 
 
 They parted, wishing each other good evening, and 
 Mergy went on his way, absorbed in rose-coloured reflec- 
 tions which soon made him fcirget all about the Admiral and 
 the hatred of the Papists. Yet he could not help noticing 
 a singular bustle in the streets of Paris, which were seldom 
 much frequented so soon after nightfall. Now he met 
 porters carrying burdens of unusual shape, which, dark as it 
 was, he could not but take for bundles of pikes ; now it was 
 a detachment of soldiers marching in silence, with ported
 
 yl LAST ATTEMPT. 231 
 
 arms and lighted matches ; elsewhere windows were opening, 
 figures showing themselves for a moment, and retiring at 
 once. 
 
 " Ho ! good fellow," cried he to a porter, " where are you 
 carrying weapons so late ? " 
 
 "To the Louvre, fair sir! for to-night's entertainment," 
 said the man. 
 
 " Comrade," next said Mergy to a sergeant in com- 
 mand of a patrol, " where are you going armed in that 
 fashion ? " 
 
 " To the Louvre, fair sir! for to-night's entertainment." 
 
 " What ! sir page ? you are the King's man, are you not ? 
 Where are you and your fellows taking these chargers 
 harnessed for battle ? " 
 
 " To the Louvre, fair sir! for to-night's entertainment. " 
 
 " To-night's entertainment ! " said Mergy to himself. " It 
 seems as if everybody except myself were in the secret. 
 However, it matters little. The King can amuse himself 
 witliout me, and 1 have little curiosity to .see his entertain- 
 ment. " 
 
 Somewhat farther on. he noticed a man in shabby clothes, 
 who kept stopping before certain houses and marking the 
 doors with a cross in white chalk. 
 
 "What! my good man," said he, "are you a billet- 
 master that you are marking doors like that ? " Init the 
 stranger disappeared without making any answer. 
 
 As he turned from one street into another, that where the 
 countess lived, he nearly ran into a man, wrapped like 
 himself in a large cloak, who was turning the same corner in 
 the opposite direction. Dark as it was, and anxious as both 
 appeared to be to preserve their incognito, they recognized 
 each other at once.
 
 232 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES JX. 
 
 " Good evening;, M. de Bevillc," said Mcry)-, holding out 
 his hand. 
 
 In order to eive him his own, Beville seemed to fumble 
 under his cloak ; he shifted something- heavy which he was 
 carrying from his right hand to his left, and as he did it the 
 cloak Hew a little open. 
 
 " Ilail! valiant champion, delight of ladies!" said Beville. 
 " I bet that my noble friend is in kick to-night!" 
 
 "And you, my good sir? There must be some jealous 
 husbands in your neighbourhood ; ior unless 1 am very 
 much mistaken, you have a mail shirt on your shoulders, 
 and what you have under your cloak looks remarkably like 
 a pair ot pistols." 
 
 "One must be prudent. Monsieur Bernard," said Pjeville ; 
 "one must be very prudent." And as he spoke he re- 
 arranged his cloak carefully, so as to conceal the weapons he 
 was carrying. 
 
 " I am very sorry indeed not to be able to offer \-ou my 
 hell) and sword to-night to keep the street and stand sentinel 
 at your lady's door," said Mergy. " It is impossible now, l)ut 
 on every possible opportunity y<:iu ma)- reckon on me." 
 
 " No; you cannot come with me to-night, M. de Mergy," 
 said Beville, and as he said this he smiled oddly. 
 
 " Well then ; good luck and good-bye." 
 
 " I wish von good luck, too," said Beville. and again there 
 was a certain emphasis in his way ol speaking. 
 
 They parted, and Mergy had gone some steps further 
 when he heard Beville call him. He turned back and saw 
 him also returning. 
 
 " Is your brother in I'aris ?" said Beville. 
 " No; but I expect him every day. Ah, l)Ut tell me, do 
 you make one in ' to-night's entertainment ? ' "
 
 A LAST ATTEMPT. 233 
 
 " To-night's cntertainnunt ? " 
 
 " Yes ; everyone says that there is going' to he a great 
 entertainment at Court to-night. " 
 
 Beville muttered something between liis teeth. 
 
 " Good-bye, once more, " said Mergy; " I am rather in a 
 hurr)', and — you know what I nK'an." 
 
 " Listen! Hsten ! onl)- a word," cried Deville ; " I cannot 
 let you go without one word ot advice, whicli comes from 
 a true friend." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " Do not go to /icr to-night : heheve me, you will thank 
 me to-morrow." 
 
 " Is that your advice ? Then I tlo not understauil \(iu. 
 Who is s/ie .' " 
 
 " Bah ! )ou know what I mean. If \'ou are wise, cross 
 the river to-night, and at once." 
 
 "Is this the joke," said Mergj-, " to which you were lead- 
 ing" up all this time ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. I never was more serious. Cross the 
 .Seine, I tell you. If the devil is too strong for you, go to 
 the Rue Saint Jacques, near the Jacobin Convent. Two 
 doors off you will see a large wooden crucifix nailed on the 
 wall of a mean-looking house. The sign is an odd one for 
 the business — but never mind that. Knock, and )ou will 
 find a very obliging old lad)-, who will receive you well tor 
 my sake. Go, I say, and get reasonable on the other side 
 of the Seine. Mother Brulard has divers pretty and well- 
 bred nieces. You understand me ? " 
 
 " You are really too good. I kiss )-our hands." 
 
 " No, no ! pray take the advice I give you. On the wortl 
 of a gentleman )ou wil! not be sorry." 
 
 "A thousand thanks; I will a\ail in\sell ol it anotlier
 
 234 CHROXICLF.S OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 time. To niyht I am expected." And Mery)- began to 
 step forward. 
 
 " Cros.s the Seine, Ijrave friend ; that is m)- last word. It 
 you come to liarm by negiectino^ m\- advice I \vash ni)^ hands 
 of it." 
 
 Heville's voice was so unusuall}' serious that it struck 
 Mergy, who caught hold of him, though he liad already 
 turnetl away. " What the devil do you mean ? Pray speak 
 plainly, M. de Beville, and drop ridilles." 
 
 " My dear fellow, probably I ought not to speak so plainly 
 as I do. But cross the ivatcr before midnight, and Cod be 
 with )ou." 
 
 " But " 
 
 But Beville was far away as he said it. INIergy made as 
 thoueh to follow him, ])ut soon, ashamed of wasting time 
 which might be so much better employed, he retraced his 
 steps, and neared the garden where he had to enter. He was 
 obliged to walk up and down for some time, to give certain 
 passers-by (who he feared might be somewhat surprised at 
 seeing him enter a garden gate at such an hour) time to dis- 
 appear. The night was fine ; a soft breeze had allayed the 
 heat, and the moon alternately dipped into and emerged 
 from faint white clouds. It was a night made lor love. 
 
 At last the street was clear for a minute : he opened the 
 garden gate and closed it again noiselessly. His heart beat 
 fast ; but he only thought of the joy awaiting him with his 
 Diane, and all the sinister fancies which Beville's strange 
 words had awakened were soon distant. He stepped on tip- 
 toe to the house, where a lamp burnt behind a red curtain 
 at a half-opened window. It was the appointed signal, and 
 in a moment he was within his mistress's oratory. 
 
 She was half 1\ ing, half sitting, on a low couch ct)vered
 
 A LAST ATTEMPT. 
 
 2-35 
 
 .-> 
 
 with deep blue damask ; and her ihirk and dishevelled 
 
 tresses covered the whole of the pillow on which her head 
 
 rested. Her eyes were closed, and she ,„-, 
 
 seemed to be keeping them so with some 
 
 effort. The room was lighted by a single 
 
 lamp of silver hanging from the ceiling, 
 
 which threw its whole light on the pale face 
 
 ami glowing lips of Diane de 
 
 Turgis. She was not asleep, Init 
 
 she looked as though she 
 
 were 
 
 nightmare. Mergy's boots had no 
 
 sooner creaked on the floor of the 
 
 oratory than she raised her head, opened her eyes and her 
 
 mouth, shuddered, and scarcely checked a shriek of terror. 
 "Did I frighten you, my angel ? " said Mergy, kneeling 
 
 beside her, and stooping over the cushion on which the fair 
 
 countess had allowed her head once more to drop. 
 " Thank God," said she, " you are here at last !" 
 " Am I late ? It is still not nearly midnight." 
 " Ah, do not touch me,. Bernard ! Did anyone see you 
 
 enter ? " 
 
 " No one. But what is the matter with you, love } 
 
 Why do these sweet little lips shun mine .^ " 
 
 11 II
 
 236 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 "Ah, Bernard, if you only knew! Oh, pray do not 
 torment me ! I am horribl)- ill ; my head aches terribly — 
 my brows are on tire ! " 
 
 " Poor darling ! " 
 
 " Sit down close to me ; ami, I beg you, ask nothing 
 of me to-night! I am very ill!" And she hid her lovely 
 face in one of the sola cushions, letting a moan of anguish 
 escape. Then suddenly she raised herselt on her elbows, 
 shook off the thick tresses which covered her face, and 
 grasping Mergy's hand placed it on her own temples, where 
 he felt the violent throbbing of the veins. " Your hand is 
 cool — it does me good," said she. 
 
 " Dearest Diane," answered he, kissing the burning brow, 
 " how I wish I could take the headache in your stead ! " 
 
 " Ah, yes ; and / wish But put the tips of your 
 
 fingers on my eyelids ; it will soothe me. I think if I could 
 weep, I should suffer less ; but I can shed no tear." 
 
 There was a long silence, interrupted only by the irre- 
 gular and heavy breathing of the countess. Mergy, kneel- 
 ing by the couch, gently stroked and sometimes kissed the 
 closed eyelids of his beautiful Diane, His left hand rested 
 on the pillow, and his mistress's fingers, entwined in his own, 
 clutched them from time to time as if by a convulsive 
 movement, while her breath, at once sweet and burning, 
 touched his lips with a voluptuous caress. 
 
 " Dearest," said he at last, " you seem to me to be suffer- 
 ing from something worse than headache. Has anything 
 grieved you ? \Vh)- do you not tell me what it is ? Do 
 you not know that love obliges us to share our pains as 
 well as our pleasures ? " 
 
 The countess shook her head, but did not open her eyes. 
 Her lips moved, Init made no articulate sound ; and then,
 
 ./ /..LSr ATTEMPT. 2,37 
 
 as if exhausted by even this effort, she let her head sink 
 back on Mersey's shoulder. As she did so, the clock struck 
 hall-past eleven. Diane started, and sat up trembling. 
 
 " But really," said Mergy, " you terrify me, my beautiful 
 one ! " 
 
 " Nothing — nothing yet ! " said she, in a muffled tone. 
 " How hideous that clock sounds ! At each stroke I feel 
 as it were a red-hot iron piercing my heart ! " 
 
 Mergy could not devise any better cure, or any better 
 answer, than to kiss her forehead as she leant it towards him. 
 Suddenly she stretched out her hands, and laid them on 
 her lover's shoulders; while still halfd\ing back, she bent on 
 him a gaze so glittering that it seemeei as it it would jjierce 
 him through. 
 
 " liernard," said she, " when are }"ou going to be con- 
 verted ? " 
 
 " Dear angel ! let us not talk ot that to-day ; it will make 
 you still more unwell. " 
 
 " It is your stubbornness that makes me ill : but that 
 matters little to you. Besides, time presses ; and were I 
 d)ing, I could gladly s])end my last breath in exhorting 
 you." 
 
 Mergy tried to shut her mouth with a kiss, — a very good 
 argument of its kind, and one which serves as an answer to 
 every possible question which can be put to a lover by his 
 mistress. But Diane, who as a rule met him halt-wa)' on 
 such occasions, repulsed him this tiine vigorously, and al- 
 most indignantly. 
 
 " Hear me, M. de I\Ierg\- ! " she cried. " Every day I 
 weep tears of blood as I think of you and tlie error of \our 
 ways. You know whether 1 love you or not. Judge what 
 1 must suffer when I think that he who is far dearer to me
 
 238 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 than life may, perhaps at any moment, perish body and 
 soul ! " 
 
 " Diane, you know that we ag^reed never to talk on such 
 subjects again." 
 
 " But we iinisf, unhappy man ! How do you know that 
 you have even an hour left for repentance ? " 
 
 The unusual tone of her voice and her singular expres- 
 sions reminded Mergy, against his will, of the strange 
 advice which he had just received from Beville. He could 
 not hinder a feeling of emotion ; but he restrained himself, 
 and set down this excess of zeal for proselytizing to mere 
 religious fervour. 
 
 " What do )ou mean, fair love ?" asked he. " Do you 
 think the ceiling is going to fall in order to kill a Huguenot, 
 as the canopy of your couch did jesterday ? It was lucky 
 we escaped then at the expense of a little dust ! " 
 
 " Your obstinacy drives me to despair ! " she replied. 
 " Listen ; I dreamt just now that j'our foes were making 
 reatly to kill you ; I saw you torn and bleeding in their 
 hands ; I saw you give up the ghost before I could bring 
 my confessor to your side ! " 
 
 " My foes ? I did not know I had any." 
 
 " Madman ! are not all those who hate heres)- your 
 enemies? Is not that all I' ranee ? \'es ! all Frenchmen 
 must be your foes, so long as j'ou are the foe of God and 
 His Church ! " 
 
 " No more of this, my queen ! As for )-our dreams, you 
 must go to old Camilla to expound them ; I have no skill 
 in that. But let us change the subject. You have been to 
 Court to-day, I suppose? It must have been there you 
 cauglit this headache which tortures you antl maddens me." 
 
 "Yes, Bernard, I have been at Court. I have seen the
 
 A LAST ATTEMPT. 2,39 
 
 Queen ; and I left her with my mind maile up to make a last 
 attempt at bringing about a change in you. You must — 
 you absoUitely must abjure ! " 
 
 " I think," interrupted ISernank " that since, my fair love, 
 you are strong enough to preach so earnestl)-, despite your 
 illness, we might, we really might, if you woukl permit it, 
 emjjloy our time better still." 
 
 She received the pleasantry with a glance half-scornful, 
 half-angry. 
 
 "Hardened man!" said she in a low voice, and as if 
 speaking to herself ; " why am I so weak with him ?" Then 
 continuing louder, " I see clearly enough that you do not 
 love me, and I rank with you not even a little dearer than 
 your horse. Provitled I minister to your pleasure, what 
 does it matter if I am miserable ? For you — for you alone 
 — I have consented to suffer the torments of conscience, 
 beside which all torments of man's invention and man's 
 hatred are nothing. A word of )our mouth would restore 
 the peace of my soul, and this word )ou will not speak ! 
 You will not sacrifice for ]iiy sake a single prejudice of your 
 own !" 
 
 " Dear Diane, how you persecute me ! " said Mergy. " I5e 
 just, and let not your zeal for your religion blind you. 
 Answer me, will you ever find a slave more docile than I in 
 everything that body or soul can do for )ou ? But if I 
 must repeat it once more, I can die for you, but I cannot, 
 for you, believe in certain things." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders as she heard him speak, and 
 she looked at him with an expression almost akin to hatred. 
 
 " I cannot," he went on, "change for you my brown locks 
 to fair; I cannot alter the shape of my limbs to please you. 
 My religion is a part ot me, dearest, and a part which can only
 
 240 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 be torn from me with m\ life. 'Ihey might preach to me ior 
 twenty years, but never make me believe that a 
 
 morsel of unleavened bread " 
 
 "Silence!" interrupted she in a tone of com- 
 
 [jn mand. "No blasphemies! I have tried 
 
 cverMhing without effect. You all of you 
 
 who are infected with the poison of 
 
 heresy — are a people 
 
 j*! hardened in head 
 
 and heart, and \ou shut 
 
 your ears and ejes to 
 
 the truth lest you should 
 
 see and hear with them. 
 
 Well, the time has come when you shall 
 
 neither hear nor see. There was but one means 
 
 left to cauterize this wound in the Church, and that means 
 
 is to be emi>lo\ed."
 
 ./ LAST ATTEMPT. 241 
 
 She paced the cliam!)er with a troubled mien, and then 
 went on : 
 
 " In less than an hoLir the seven heads of the dragon of 
 heresy will be lopi^ed off. The sword is sharpened, the 
 faithful are ready, the infidels shall be swept from the face of 
 the earth ! " Then, stretching her finger to the clock in the 
 corner ot the room — "Sec!" she said, "you have still a 
 (juarter of an hour for repentance. When the hand reaches 
 that figure your fate will be sealed ! " 
 
 She was still speaking, when a dull sound like; to that of a 
 crowd hovering round a mighty fire began to make itself 
 heard, at first indistinctly ; but it seemed to grow quickly, 
 and after a very few minutes the tolling of bells and the 
 report of firearms were heard afar off. 
 
 " What hideous news is this ? " cried MerofV. 
 
 But the countess had darted to the window and had 
 opened it. Then the noise, hitherto muffled by the glass 
 and the curtains, came in more clearly. Shrieks of pain and 
 )'ells of joy seemed to be distinguishable in it. A crimson 
 smoke rose to the sky, and appeared to hang over every 
 part of the city as far as the eye could reach. It would 
 have seemed a vast conflagration, if a smell of resin, which 
 could only have been produced b\' thousands of lighted 
 torches, had not quickly filled the chamber. At the same 
 time the flash of a musket which seemed to have been dis- 
 charged in the street itself lit up for a moment the windows 
 of an adjoining house. 
 
 " The massacre has begun ! " cried the countess, putting 
 her hands in horror to her head. 
 
 " What massacre ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 "To-night all the Huguenots are to be slain by the 
 King's orders. All Catholics are under arms, and not a
 
 242 
 
 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 heretic is to be spared. F" ranee and the Church are saved. 
 But )v// — you are lost if you do not abjure your false belief" 
 Mergy felt all his limbs covered with cold sweat. He 
 stared with haggard eyes at Diane de Turgis, whose features 
 expressed a singular mixture ot anguish and triumph. The 
 hideous din which echoed in his ears, and filled 
 all the town, sufficiently attested the truth of the 
 appalling news he had just heard. I'"or some 
 moments the countess remained motionless, her 
 eyes fixed speechlessly on hin.T, her finger 
 still stretched towards the window. She 
 seemed to appeal to Mergy's tancy to 
 show him the bloody scenes, as of a 
 cannibal feast, which the howlings and 
 torchlights suggested. By degrees 
 her expression softened, its savage ('i>'k 
 joy passed, the horror in it re- 
 mained. At last, fallino; on her 
 
 , 'i^i'f/n 
 
 ^'^'-^sy 
 
 knees, and with an imploring voice, " Bernard !" she cried, 
 " I conjure you, save your life ! Be converted ! Save your 
 life, save mine, which is bound up in yours!" 
 
 Mergy glared fiercely at her as she followed him, still on 
 her knees and with outstretched arms, through the chamber. 
 Answering never a word, he rushed to the end ot the oratory 
 and seized his sword, which at his entrance he had placed on 
 a chair.
 
 A LAST ATTEMPT. 
 
 243 
 
 "Miserable man!" cried the countess, hastening to him, 
 " what would you do ? " 
 
 " Defend myself," he answered, 
 like a sheep !" 
 
 " Madman ! A thousand 
 swords could not save you. 
 The whole town is in arms. 
 The King's Guards, the 
 Swiss, the citizens, the 
 populace, all are en- 
 gaged in the mas- 
 sacre ; and not a 
 Huguenot but has at 
 this moment a dozen 
 daggers at his breast. 
 There is one only 
 means of rescue from 
 death. Become a Ca- 
 tholic ! " 
 
 Mergy was a brave 
 man ; but as he 
 thought of the dan- 
 gers which the night 
 seemed to threaten, he felt, for a moment, base fear 
 thrilling to the bottom of his heart, and even the notion 
 of saving himself by apostasy flashed like lightning across 
 his mind. 
 
 "I can answer for your life if you abjure ! " said Diane, 
 clasping her hands. 
 
 " If I do so," thought he, " I shall despise myself for the 
 rest of it." And the thought restored his courage, which 
 was doubled by very shame at his own momentary wavering. 
 
 I 1
 
 244 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 He crushed his hat on liis head, drew his bck tight, and 
 roUing his cloak round his left arm buckler-wise, he made 
 a steady stride towards the door. 
 
 " Where are you going, wretch ? " cried she. 
 
 " Into the street. I should not like you to have the grief 
 of seeing me butchered under your eyes and in )our house." 
 
 There was so deep a tone of contempt in his voice that 
 the countess was overwhelmed. She had thrown herselt in 
 his way, and he repulsed h(;r roughly enough. But she 
 seized the skirt of his doublet, and dragged herself on her 
 knees behind him. 
 
 " Unhand me ! " he cried. " Would you deliver me your- 
 self to the assassins' daggers ? A Huguenot's mistress can 
 ransom her sins by sacrificing her lover's blood to her 
 Deity ! " 
 
 "Stay, Bernard, I implore you! It is only your soul's 
 health I desire. Live for me, dear angel ! Save yourself 
 in the name of our love — consent to pronounce a single 
 word, and I swear you are safe ! " 
 
 " What ? / accept the faith of brigands and of mur- 
 derers ! Holy martyrs of the Ck)S[)el, I come to join you ! " 
 
 And he tore himself so fiercely from her that the countess 
 fell sharply on the floor. He was about to open the door 
 and depart, when Diane, rising- with the agility of a tigress, 
 sprang upon him and clasped him in her arms with a grip 
 stronger than that of a strong man. 
 
 " Bernard!" she cried in a transport, and with streaming 
 eyes, " I love you more than if )-ou had abjured ! " and 
 ilra""inni'' him to the couch, she flung herself and him u])on 
 it, and covered him with kisses and with tears. 
 
 "Stay here, my only love! .Sta)- with me, my brave 
 Bernard ! " she said, hugging him, and twining her bod)-
 
 A LAST ATTEMPT. 245 
 
 round him like a serpent enlacini,r its prey. " They will 
 not seek you here : not in my arms ; and did they so, they 
 must kill me to reach your breast ! Pardon mc, dear love ! 
 I could not warn )'Ou sooner of the danger w hich threatened : 
 I was bound by a terrible oath, but 1 will save you now or 
 perish with you ! " 
 
 At this moment a loud knock at the street gate was 
 heard. Ihe countess uttered a piercing shriek, and Mergy, 
 disengaging himself from her embrace, with his cloak still 
 wrapped nnunl his left arm, felt so full tif strength and 
 resolution, that he would have plunged headlong on a band 
 of a hundred assassins if they had showed themselves. 
 
 In the entrance gate of almost all Parisian houses there 
 was a small wicket, closely barred with iron, so that the 
 inmates could reconnoitre beforehand whether it was safe 
 for them to open. Sometimes even heavy oaken gates, 
 strengthened with nails and bands of iron, were not enouMi 
 to reassure careful folk, who did not want to surrender be- 
 fore they were regularly be.sieged. Narrow loopholes were 
 therefore worked at each side of the gate, and from these, 
 without being .seen, they could comfortably rake the as.sail- 
 ants. An old confidential equerry of the countess, after 
 examining the person who had presented himself through 
 some such a barred wicket, and after duly interrogating 
 him, came back and told his mistress that Captain George 
 de Mergy pressed for instant admittance. All fear thus 
 passed away, and the gate was opened.
 
 
 1" i;,r; 
 
 m&fiir^&'
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE 
 
 TWENTY-FOURTH OF 
 AUGUST. 
 
 lileeil them ! bleed lliem ! " 
 
 ( IVords of the Marshal 
 
 dc 7'az'afiin'S, ) 
 
 AFTER leaviii 
 Captain Geort 
 
 g his squadron, 
 
 ptain George hastened home, 
 
 hoping to find his brother there ; but he 
 
 lad already gone out, teUing his servant 
 
 that he should be away all night. George 
 
 had had no difficulty in guessing 
 
 that he was with the 
 
 r^-\x
 
 -m8 CHROX/CLES of CHARLES IX. 
 
 ccnintess, and haJ made all haste to seek' hlin thero. 
 IWit the massacre had already begun ; and the tumult, the 
 throng" of butchers, and the chains stretched across the 
 streets, checked him at every step. He was obliged to 
 pass by the Louvre, and there fanaticism showed its mad- 
 iiess to the full. Many Protestants inhabited the quarter, 
 which was now invatled by the Papist citizens and the 
 soldiers of the (juards, sword and torch in hand. There, 
 according to the striking expression of a contemporary 
 writer, " blood ran in all directions, seekino- its wav to the 
 river," ' and it was impossible to pass along the streets 
 without risk of being crushed at every minute by corpses 
 flung from the windows. By a devilish precaution, most 
 of the boats, which as a rule were moored along the Louvre 
 front, had been taken across the stream ; so that many 
 fugitives who ran to the .Seine bank, hoping there to take 
 boat and escape from their enemies' blows, found no more 
 choice but betwi.xt the water and the halberds of the soldiers 
 who chased them. Meanwhile, at one ot the palace 
 windows, men saw, it is said, Charles IX., armed with a 
 long arquebuss, and "potting like game"' the unfortunate 
 passers-by. 
 
 The captain, striding over dead iiodies and splashing 
 himself with their blood, made good his way, at the risk, 
 every moment, of being sacrificed to .some assassin's mistake. 
 He had noticed that every soldier and armed citizen wore 
 a white scarf on his arm and a white cross in his hat. He 
 might easily have adopted the badge ; luit his horror of 
 the murderers extended even to the signs l)\' which the)' 
 recognized each other. ( )n the river liank, near the' 
 
 ' D'.^ulugnc, " Histoiic I'liiver.sc lit-." 
 ■ //'/(/. [" Qui gil)ovait." — Triiiishxtor.\
 
 THE rWEXTY-FOURTH OF AUGUST. 24^ 
 
 Chatelet, he heard his name called ; he turned his head, and 
 saw a man who, armed to the teeth, but apparently making' 
 no use ut his weapons, wore the white cross in his hat, and 
 was twisting a scraj) ot papur in his hnycrs with a \\holI\' 
 unconcerned air. It was Beville, placidly gazing at tht! 
 bodies, dead and alive, which were being flung into the 
 Seine from the Miller's Bridge. 
 
 " What the devil are you tluin^ ht:re, Georo:e ? " said he. 
 " Is it a miracle ? or is it sjjecial grace which inspires you 
 with this hoi)' zeal ? for you look as if you had joined the 
 Huguenot hunt. " 
 
 " What are you doing yourself amid these wretches ? " 
 answered George. 
 
 " I ? I am looking on. By Jove ! it is something to see. 
 And do you know, I have done a good stroke of business. 
 You know old Michael Cornabon, the Huguenot monej- 
 lender, who has plucked me so clean ? " 
 
 " Wretch ! have you killed him ? " 
 
 " I ? fie on you ! I have nothing to do with religious 
 affairs. .So far from killing him, I have hidden him in my 
 cellar, and for his part he has given me a receipt in full for 
 all I owe him. Thus I have both done a noble deed and 
 have been rewarded therefor. It is true that, in order to 
 make him sign the receipt more easily, I had to hold a 
 pistol twice to his head ; but may the devil take me if I 
 meant to pull the trigger. Ah ! now : look at that woman 
 who has caught bv her skirts on one of the liridire beams. 
 She will tall — no she won't! Plague on it, that is a curious 
 sight, and deserves to be looketl at closer." 
 
 George left him, and as he did so, struck his forehead, 
 crying, " And to think that that is one of the honestest 
 gentlemen I know in this town to night ! "
 
 250 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 He now set foot in the Rue St. Josse, which was de- 
 serted and dark : clearly none of the dwellers there were 
 Protestants. Yet the noise from the nei^hbourintr streets 
 was quite distinctly heard, and suddenly the ruddy glow of 
 torches lit up the white walls. He heard piercing cries, and 
 saw a woman, who fled with superhuman speed, half naked, 
 with dishevelled hair, and holding a child in her arms. Pur- 
 suing her were two men, cheering each other on with sav^age 
 cries, like huntsmen after a wild beast. She was just about 
 to rush into an open passage, when one of her pursuers 
 fired an arquebuss, with which he was armed, at her. The 
 shot struck her in the back, and brought her down : but she 
 rose quickly, made one step towards George, and tell once 
 more on her knees. Then, with a supreme effort, she lilted 
 her child towards the captain, as though relying on his 
 generosity, and died without a word. 
 
 "Another heretic baggage down!" cried the marksman; 
 " I will not rest till I have made up the dozen ! " 
 
 " Wretch ! " cried the captain, and he fired a pistol point- 
 blank at him. The scoundrel's head struck the wall hard 
 by, his eyes gave one terrible glare, and his heels slipping 
 from beneath him, he fell like a log of wood with its support 
 struck away, plump and stone-dead on the ground. 
 
 " WHiat ! kill a Catholic ! " cried his companion, who held 
 a torch in one hand, and a bloody sword in the other. " Who 
 are you ? By the mass ! you are one of the King's light 
 horse ! Good sir, you mistake ! " 
 
 The captain drew a second pistol from his belt, and cocked 
 it. The motion and the click were perfectly understood, 
 and the murderer, dropping his torch, fled at full speed. 
 George, not condescending to fire after him, stooped, ex- 
 amined the woman who was stretched on the ground, and
 
 THE TWEXTY-FOURTII OF AUGUST. 
 
 251 
 
 saw that she was dead. The ball had pierced Ik r through 
 and through ; but her child, whose arms clasped his mother's 
 neck, wailed and wept : he was covered ^y^ljlL. 
 
 with blood, l)ut he had miraculously 
 escaped a wound. With some diffi- 
 culty the captain tore him from 
 his mother, to whom the chik 
 clunir with all his strensjth, 
 
 and wrappeil him u|) m 
 his own cloak. Then, 
 taking warning by the re- 
 cent brush, he picked up 
 the dead man's hat, and 
 taking the white cross out 
 of it placed it on his own. 
 In which fashion he made 
 way without further hindrance 
 to the countess's house. 
 
 The two brothers fell into 
 each other's arms, and for 
 .some time remained in this 
 embrace without speaking. At 
 last the captain in {t'w 
 words described 
 the state of the --■^»*«fiSli'«£J'^J 
 town. Bernard, 
 cursing the King, ^^-s-:*!. 
 the Ciuises, and the 
 priests, expressed his 
 anxiety to go fortli and to seek to join his brethren in the 
 faith, on the chance that they might somewhere try to 
 make head against their enemies. The countess wept 
 
 K K
 
 252 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 and held him back ; while the child cried and asked tor 
 his mother. 
 
 After spending a considerable time in exclamations, 
 groans, and tears, they ielt it necessary to tix on some 
 course of action. As for the child, the countess's equerry 
 undertook the business of finding a woman to take charge 
 of him. It was impossible for Mergy to depart at such a 
 moment ; and besides, where was he to go ? and how did 
 anyone know whether or no the massacre was spreading 
 all over France ? .Strong parties had certainly occupied the 
 bridges over which the Protestants might have passed into 
 the Faubourg St. Germain, and thence have escaped from 
 the town and gained the southern provinces, always inclined 
 to their cause. On the other hand, to ask the King's mercy 
 at a moment when, in the heat of slaughter, he thought of 
 nothing but new victims, seemed doubtfidl)- wise, and even 
 certainly foolish. The countess's house, thanks to her 
 repute for devotion, was not likely to be narrowly searched 
 by the murderers ; and Diane thought she might answer 
 for her own people. .So Mergy could not h.\ on an)' 
 place of retreat where he ran less risk, and it was decided 
 that he shoukl hide himselt there and see what would 
 happen. 
 
 Daj'light, so far from putting a stop to the massacres, 
 seemed only to increase them and make them more business- 
 like. Every Catholic, under penalty of being suspected of 
 heresy, had \.o mount the white cross, and either take arms 
 or denounce such Huguenots as were still living. The 
 King, shutting himself up in his palace, gave access to no 
 one but the chiefs of the murderers ; the populace, induced 
 by hope of pillage, had joined the trained bands and the 
 soldiers ; while preachers in the churches exhorted the
 
 rUF. TWEXTY-FOURTH OF AUGUST. 253 
 
 faithful to redoubled excesses of cruelty. " Let us, ' said 
 they, " once for all crush the hydra's heads, and for ever 
 l)ut an end to civil war!" Antl, in order to persuade the 
 bloodthirst)' and niiracle-craxini;' mob that heaven approved 
 its rage and had encouras^^ed it by a striking prodigy, " Go, " 
 cried they, "to the Cemetery ot the Innocents; go and 
 see the hawthorn which has just blossomed a second time 
 with a new anel \igorous youth as having been watered 
 with heretic blood ! " 
 
 Numerous processions ol armed murderers marched with 
 all ceremony to worship the Holy Thorn, and left the ceme- 
 tery Hushed with fresh zeal to discover and slay those whom 
 heaven thus clearly sentenced. A saying of Catherine's 
 was in every mouth, and was repeated by those who were 
 butchering women and children : " Che pieta lor ser cntde/e, 
 chc criidclta lor scr picloso " — " To-day there is mere}' in 
 being cruel ; there is cruelty in being merciful." 
 
 Strange to say, though there were few among all these 
 Protestants who had not seen war — who had not taken part 
 in desperate battles, where they had endeavoured, and often 
 successfully, to make valour atone for want of numbers^yet 
 during this butchery two only attempted any resistance to 
 their murderers. Of these two, one only was a soldier. It 
 may be that the habit of fighting in bodies, and after a regular 
 fashion, had robbed them of the individual energy which 
 might have prompted each Huguenot to defend himself in 
 his house as in a castle. But old warriors were seen, like 
 victims devoted to .sacrifice, holding out their throats to 
 rascals who, the day before, would have trembled before 
 them — taking, as it were, resignation for courage, and pre- 
 ferring the renown of mart\TS to a soldier's honoural)le 
 death.
 
 254 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 When the first thirst of blood was quenched, the more 
 merciful of the butchers commonlj' offered life to their victims 
 at the price of aljjuration ; but a very small number ot Cab 
 vinists availed themselves ot the ofter, and consented to 
 ransom themselves from death and torture by a perhaps 
 , excusable falsehood. b]\en women and children repeated 
 their confession ot taitii beneath the drawn swords and died 
 without a miu'mur. 
 
 At'ter two days of such slaughter the Kin;;' tried to sto|) 
 it ; but when the reins ha\'e been thrown on the neck ot 
 [jopulcU' passions, it is impossible to check them. Not onl\' 
 did the ilauyers continue acti\c, but the Kin.^' himself, 
 accused ot unorthodo.x compassion, was obliged to u itlulraw 
 liis sugo^estion of mercy, and even to exaggerate the male- 
 volence which at all times was more or less natural tcj his 
 character. 
 
 I )uring the first fe\v days after the St. Bartholomew Mergy 
 was regularly visited in his hiding-place by his brother, who 
 gave him each time tresli particulars (jt the lu)rrible scenes 
 lie had witnessed. 
 
 " Ah ! when shall I be able to (|uit this countr_\ ot crime 
 and murder ?" cried George. " 1 would rather live among 
 wild beasts than among brenchmen." 
 
 " Come with me to La Rochelle," said Mergy; " I have 
 good hojje that the assassins ha\'e not won it yet. Come 
 and die with me, obliterating )our ajiostas) In detending 
 the last bulwark ot our taith." 
 
 "Ah! and what is to l>ecome ot iiic'" 1 )iane would 
 cr\'. 
 
 " Then let us go to Cerinanx or Hngland," answt.-retl 
 George. "There, at aiu rait', a\ e need be neither mur 
 dered nor uunderers.'
 
 THE TWENTY I'D VRTU OF AUGUST. 255 
 
 l!ut nothing came ol these schemes. Geort^e was thrown 
 into prison for disobedience to the Kind's orders ; and the 
 countess, in terror lest her h)\-('r shouKI lie chscox'ereil, had 
 
 no ihi 
 
 ni''li 
 
 I hut how to ofet him out of Paris. 
 
 •'**s^ w
 
 I _ ^ rj>i»im^\mp 
 
 jli'^Hllliyiy.'- 
 
 "M " ll'Tr'r ?'5- 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE TWO MONKS. 
 
 " And thus llicy niaile of liim a monk 
 By putting a cowl upon him." 
 
 Fo/t-Sofip-.^ 
 
 N a tavern on the banks of the 
 
 Loire, not far from Orleans, 
 
 as )ou go clown towards Beau- 
 
 ency, a young- monk, in a brown 
 
 robe with a large 
 
 ■ m hood half-drawn 
 
 I' \ I.'" S'lu'^i^iLy- *-'^'*^'' l"*'^ face, was 
 p3t ■■"liiiLLjB qpat-pfl before a 
 
 ' ' Lui incttant un Capuchoii 
 lis en fircnt un moine." 
 
 Chanson Popnlnire. — [ 2'ranslatoi' s Xoli'^
 
 2s8 CHROMCLRS OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 table, his eyes fixed on his breviary with the most edifyinj^' 
 attention, though the corner which he had chosen was a 
 httle darl: for reading in. lie had at his girdle a rosary, 
 the beads of which were rather larger than pigeons' eggs, 
 while an abundant supjjly of medals, with the effigies ot 
 saints, were hung to the same girdle, and clinked at every 
 movement that he made. When he lifted his head to look 
 in the direction of the door, there might have been seen a 
 very well-shaped mouth, adorned with a moustache twisted 
 into the shape of a Turkish Ijow, and modish enough to 
 do credit to a captain of gendarmes. Mis hands were very 
 white, his nails long and carefully trimmed : nor was tliere 
 an)' sign to show that the >'i.Hmg brother had ever, as by 
 the rule of his order he should have done, wielded a spade 
 or a rake. 
 
 A plump and chubby-checked peasant woman, who 
 doubled the parts of waitress and cook in the tavern, being 
 also the mistress herself, drew near the )oung monk, and 
 curtseying awkwardly, said : 
 
 "Well, father, are you going to order something tor )our 
 dinner ? Do you know that it is past n<ion ? " 
 
 "Will the Beaugency boat be long before it is here?" 
 answered he. 
 
 " Who knows ? " said she. " The water is low, and they 
 cannot take their own time, liesides, anjhow, it is not due 
 yet. I should dine here if I were you." 
 
 "So 1 will: but have you no other room than this to eat 
 in ? There is a smell here that 1 do not like." 
 
 " You are very particular, father. I cannot smell an\- 
 thing at all." 
 
 "Then are you singeing pigs close to the inn ?" 
 
 "Pigs? Ha! ha! That is funny. Pigs? Yes; or
 
 THE TIVO MOXKS. 259 
 
 something like it. They arc jjigs in tlieir way, for, as the 
 .saying is, they wert; dressed in siliv' in their Hfetinie ; Init 
 they are not pigs good to eat. These, saving your reverence, 
 father, are Huguenots whom they are burning on tiie river 
 bank, some hundred yards off, and it is the scent of them 
 that you perceive." 
 
 " Huguenots ?" 
 
 "Yes, Huguenots. Do you mind that? It need not 
 takeaway your appetite. And as for changing your chning- 
 room, I have no other; so )-ou must make the best of this. 
 ■ \h ' the smell ot roasted Huguenot is not so bad! Besides, 
 if they were not burnt tliey might smell worse. There was 
 a heap of them on th(' bank this uKM-ning — a heap as high 
 as our chimney-piece !" 
 
 " And do you go and look at these corpses .•*" 
 
 " Ah, you mean because they were naked ? Dead men 
 do not count, holy father ; I did not think an)' more of them 
 than if I had seen a heap of deaci frogs. But all the same, 
 they must have done a fme business at Orleans yesterday, 
 for the Loire has brought us shoals of these heretic fish ; 
 and as the river is low they are found high and dry on the 
 shingle every day. Why yesterda}', when our miller's man 
 looked to see how many tench were in his net, look you, 
 there was a dead woman in it, with a halberd wound right in 
 the middle of her ! It went in at her waist and came out at 
 her shoulders. Marry, l)ut he would rather have found a 
 fine carp though ! But what is rhe matter with your reve- 
 rence } Are you going to swtion ? .Shall I fill you a cup 
 of Beaugency wine while )'ou wait for your dinner ? That 
 will set you right inside." 
 
 ' \k play, not by any device to be kept in English, between sole " bilk," 
 and sole " pig's bristle."] — Translator s Note.
 
 26o 
 
 CIIROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Thank you, no." 
 
 " Well then, what will you have for dinner ?" 
 
 "Whatever comes to hand— I care little." 
 
 ^" Yes ; but what i* M)' 
 larder is well furnished, 
 ^, ' look you !" 
 c^j' ---~ « ■'" \ "Well then, srive me a 
 
 chicken, and leave me to 
 read my breviary." 
 « "A chicken! your re- 
 
 verence. A chicken! that is a pretty thing-! The spiders 
 need not look to weave their webs over your teeth on fast 
 days. Have you got a dispensation from the Pope to eat 
 chickens on Friday ?" 
 
 " Bah ! how absent-minded I am!" said he. "Of course, 
 to-day is Friday. ' On k'riday thou shalt not eat flesh.' 
 Give me some eggs, and take my best thanks tor reminding 
 me in time to prevent so great a sin." 
 
 " Look you now," said the hostess half to herself, " these
 
 THE TWO MOXKS. 261 
 
 gentry will eat chickens on a fast day if you do not remind 
 them, and yet will make a fuss to make your blood run cold 
 if they find a morsel of bacon in poor folks' broth !" Which 
 said, she set to work to cook her eggs, and the nn)nk 
 returned to his breviary. 
 
 " Ave Maria ! my sister," said another monk, who entered 
 the tavern at the very moment that Dame Marguerite, 
 frying-pan handle in hand, was about to turn an omelet of 
 large dimensions. 
 
 The newcomer was a handsome old man, grey-bearded, 
 tall, strongly made, and stout. His face was very highly 
 complexioned ; but its most remarkable feature was a huge 
 patch, which hid one eye and half covered the cheek. He 
 spoke French glibly enough, but with a slight though 
 noticeable foreiorn accent. 
 
 As he came in the younger monk drew his hood still closer, 
 so that his face could not be seen ; but Dame Marofuerite 
 was even more surprised to perceive that the last comer, 
 who had thrown his hood back because of the heat, pulled 
 it on the moment that he had spied his brother in orders. 
 
 " Faith, father," said the hostess, " you have come in the 
 nick of time for dinner. You will not have to wait, and 
 you will find yourself among friends." Then turning to 
 the \ounger monk, " You will be delighted, your reverence, 
 will you not, to dine with his reverence here ? The smell 
 of my omelet has brought him, and no wonder, for by Our 
 Lady I do not spare butter." 
 
 The young monk replied shyly and stammering, " I am 
 afraid I shall be in the gentleman's way ; " while the elder, 
 stooping his head still lower, answered, " I am a poor monk 
 of Alsace ; I speak I'rench badly, and I fear my company 
 will not please mv brother."
 
 262 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Come, come !" cried Dame Marguerite ; " how polite you 
 both are ! Monks, and monies of the same order, ought to 
 have but one board and one bed," and she thrust a stool up 
 to the table, right u[)posite the young friar. The elder seated 
 himself, apparent]\ much embarrassed, and struggling be- 
 tween hun^rer and a certain dislike to face his colleaorue. She 
 dished the omelet, and said, " Now, good fathers, be quick 
 with your grace, and then tell me whether my omelet is 
 good." 
 
 But the mere word " grace " seemed to put the two 
 monks still less at their ease. The younger said to the 
 elder, "It is for you to say grace. \ ou are my senior, and 
 the honour is yours." 
 
 '■ Na}-," quoth he, " not at all. \ uu were here before me, 
 and )ou have the right to say it." 
 
 " I pray you set me the example." 
 
 " I could not think ot doing so." 
 
 " But really you must." 
 
 " Look at them," said Dame Marguerite ; " they will let 
 my omelet get cold ! Did anyone ever .see two of Saint 
 Francis's children so scrupulous? Let the old one bless the 
 meat, and the young one shall give thanks afterwards." 
 
 " I can only say grace in my own tongue," said the old 
 monk. The j'ounger looked much surprised, and stole a 
 glance at his companion. He, however, clasping his hands 
 most devoutly, began to mutter in his hood certain words 
 which conveyed no meaning to anyone, then he sat down, 
 and, without another word, he had in no time devoured three 
 parts of the omelet and drained the bottle set before him. 
 His fellow, with his nose in his plate, never opened his 
 mouth, save to eat ; and when the omelet was finished he 
 n)se, clasi)ed his hands, and uttered hastih', slurring them
 
 THE TUV MONKS. 
 
 263 
 
 over, certain Latin words, the last of which were ct heata 
 viscera virginis Maricc. Marguerite heard these last, and 
 these only. 
 
 " What a cjueer grace (with reverence be it spoken) you 
 said then, lather ? It is not like those that our cure says." 
 
 " That is the grace used in our convent," said the young 
 Franciscan. 
 
 " Will the boat soon come ? ' said the elder. 
 
 " Patience!" answered Dame Marguerite; " it is not nearly 
 here yet." 
 
 The younger monk seemed to be vexed, as far as could 
 be judged by a twitch of his head. But he did not make the 
 slightest remark ; and taking up his breviary, began to read 
 it with increased attention. The Alsatian, on his part, turned 
 his back to his companion, and began to pass the beads of 
 his rosary between his hnger and thumb, moving his lips, 
 but without producing the least sound from them. 
 
 " These are the strangest and most silent monks that
 
 264 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 ever I saw," thought Dame Marguerite, sitting down to her 
 wheel, which she soon set going. 
 
 No sound save the whirring of the wheel had broken the 
 silence for a good ejuarter of an hour, when lour illdooking 
 fellows, well armed, entered the inn. They touched their 
 hats slightly at sight of the monks, and one of them, address- 
 ing Marguerite familiarly as "my little Meg," bade her give 
 them wine at once and dinner soon. " P'or," said he, "the 
 moss is growing in my throat, so long is it since ni)- jaws 
 were in motion." 
 
 " Wine ? wine ? " grumbled Marguerite; " that is easily 
 said. Master Bois-Dauphin, but are you going to pay the 
 shot ? Jack Trust-Me is dead, you know ; and besides, you 
 owe me already, for wine, dinners, and suppers, si.\ crowns 
 and more, as I am an honest woman." 
 
 " The one thing is as true as the other," said Bois Dau- 
 phin laughing; "that is to say. Mother Meg, I owe you two 
 crowns, and not a penny more." His actual words were 
 somewhat stronger than these. 
 
 " Oh Jesus ! oh Mary ! how can jou say so ? " 
 
 " Come, come, no noise, old lady. Let it Ije six crowns, if 
 )ou like. I will pay you, Maggie, and our score to-day as 
 well, tor I have the chinks in my pocket, though this present 
 business is a scurvy one for profit. I cannot think what 
 the rascals do with their money." 
 
 " Perhaps they swallow it, like the Germans," said one of 
 his comrades. 
 
 "A plague ! " cried Bois-Dauphin; " we must look to that. 
 Good coins in a heretic carcass are a good joke, but not one 
 that ought to be thrown to the dogs." 
 
 " How the minister's daughter shrieked this morning," 
 said the third fellow.
 
 THE TWO MONKS. 265 
 
 '■ Yes ! and the fat parson too ! " added the fourth. " How 
 I did laui^'h at him ! he was so fat he would not sink." 
 
 "Then you worked hard to-day?" said Marguerite, 
 coming back from the cellar with her bottles full. 
 
 "Pretty fair," said Bois- Dauphin. "What with men, f 
 women, and children, we made up a dozen, thrown into the 
 water or into the fire. But the worst of it was, Maggie, . 
 that they had not a rap : e.xcept the woman, who had some 
 trinkets, the whole bao- was not worth a hound's four shoes. , 
 Yes, father," added he, addressing the younger monk, " we 
 earned plent\- of indulgences this morning by killing your 
 enemies, the dog heretics." 
 
 The monk gazed at him a moment, and then returned to 
 his reading ; but his breviary quivered in his left hand, and 
 his right was clenched like that of a man in strong emotion. 
 
 " And talking of indulgences," said Bois-Dauphin, turn- 
 ing to his comrades, " do you know I should like one to eat 
 meat to-day ? There are some chickens in our dame's 
 poultry-yard which are desperately tempting." 
 
 " Let us eat them," said one of the wretches ; "we shall 
 not be damned for that. We will go to confession to-morrow. 
 and that will make it right. " 
 
 " Listen, brothers," said another ; " I have an idea; let us 
 ask these plump frocked gentry here to give us a licence for 
 meat." 
 
 " As if they could ! " said his comrade. 
 
 " B\' Our Lady's body !" cried Bois-Dauphin, "I know a 
 better way than that, and I'll whisper it to you." 
 
 The four rascals laid their heads together, and Bois- 
 Dauphin explained to them, in an undertone, his plan, which 
 was received with shouts of laughter. But one of the 
 bravoes seemed to hesitate.
 
 266 C//ROX/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 "That is an ill device of )ours, Bois-Dauphin," said he, 
 "and it may bring- us bad kick. I will not make one." 
 
 " Hold your tongue. Guillemain ! 'Tis a mighty sin, 
 forsooth, to make a man smell the blade of a dagger." 
 
 " Yes ; but a shaveling ! " 
 
 They were conversing in a low tone, and the two monks 
 seemed to be trying to guess their topic ot conversation by 
 the words caught here and there. 
 
 " Bah ! it makes no difierence," replied BoisT~)au[)hin 
 speaking a little louder ; " and besides, in this way the sin 
 will lie on him and not on me." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! Bois-Dauphin is right," crietl the other. So 
 he rose at once and left the room. A moment later the 
 poultry were heard making a noise, and the ruffian soon 
 reappeared with a dead chicken in each hand. 
 
 "Ah! son of perdition!" cried Dame Marguerite; "kill 
 ni)- chickens, and on Friday too ? What are you going to 
 do with them, wretch ? " 
 
 " Hold your tongue. Dame Maggie, and don't make my 
 ears burn. You know that I am an ugly customer. Get 
 your spits ready and leave me alone." Then, drawing near 
 to the Alsatian friar, he said, " Now, father, you see these 
 two animals ? I want )ou to be so good as to christen them." 
 
 The monk started back with surjjrise ; his reverend 
 brother closed his book, and Dame Marguerite showered 
 strong language on Bois-Dauphin. 
 
 " You want me to christen them ? " said the monk. 
 
 " Yes, my father. I will be their godfather, Meg here 
 shall be godmother ; and these are the names that I give 
 my godchildren ; this shall be called Carp, ami this Perch. 
 There be two very pretty names." 
 
 " Christen chickens ? " cried the monk with a laugh.
 
 THE TWO MOXKS. 
 
 267 
 
 " Yes, lather. Lome, set to work. " 
 
 "Wretch!" cried Marguerite, "(h) you think I will allow 
 .such work a.s thi.s in my house .•* l)o you think you are 
 anioPL,^ lews, or at a witch's sabbath, that you christen 
 beasts ? " 
 
 " Take this chatterbo.x off me," 
 Bois-Daupliin to his fellows ; " ai 
 for you, lather, per- ^^g^ 
 
 haps you could read ^^1 
 
 the name of the 
 cutler who forged 
 this blade .^ " 
 
 As he spoke he 
 passed his bare 
 poniard under the 
 old monk's nose. 
 The youngc^r half 
 rose on his bench, 
 but almost imme- 
 diately, as though after discreet 
 reflection, he .sat down again, 
 determined to abide patiently. 
 
 " But how am 1 to baptize 
 poultry, ni)- son .•" " said the elder. 
 
 " Easily enough, God wot ; just as you baptize us of 
 woman born. Sprinkle their heads with water, and say : ' I 
 baptize thee, Carp, and thee, Perch.' Only say it in your 
 own jargon. Come, Little-John, hand over that glass ol 
 water, and, all of )e, hats off and attend piously in God's 
 name." 
 
 To the general surprise the old cordelier took some water, 
 shed it on the fowls' heads, and pronouncing ver)- rapidly 
 
 M M
 
 268 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 and very indistinclly something- which sounded Hkc a prayer, 
 ended with baptizo tc Carpavi ct Pcrchaiii. Then lie sat down 
 again, and told his beads once more with great tranquillity, as 
 if he had done something quite in the common way. Dame 
 Marguerite stood duml) with amazement ; but Bois- Dauphin 
 w"as in his glor)'. "Come, Meg!" said he, throwing the 
 chickens to her, " dress us this carp and this perch. They 
 will make a capital fast-day dinner." But notwithstanding 
 the baptism, Dame Marguerite still refused to consider them 
 fit food for Christians, and the ruffians had to threaten her 
 with personal \iolence before she could make up her mind 
 to spit the improvised fishes. 
 
 Bois-Dauphin and his companions meanwhile drank 
 copiously, toasting healths, and making a great clatter. 
 
 " Listen," said BoisTDauphin at last, smiting the table 
 hard to enjoin silence. " I am going to drink a health to 
 our Holy Father the Pope, and death to all Huguenots. 
 These two cowled gentry and Dame Marget shall join us." 
 
 The suggestion was received by his comrades with 
 applause, and he rose, staggering somewhat (for he was 
 more than half drunk already), and filled the young monk's 
 glass from the bottle in his hand. 
 
 " Come, good father," said he, " to the Holiness of his 
 health! Bah ! a slip of the tongue. To the health of his 
 Holiness, and to the death " 
 
 " I never drink between meals," .said the young man coolly. 
 
 " Ah ! but you shall drink now, devil take me ! or tell the 
 reason why." 
 
 So speaking, he set the bottle on the table, and seizing 
 the glass, held it to the lips of the monk, who was leaning 
 over his breviary in great apparent calm. Some drops of 
 wine fell on the book. Then the monk rose, clutched the
 
 THE TWO MOXKS. 269 
 
 glass, and instead of drinking it, Hung its contents full in 
 Bois-Dauphin's face. 
 
 The company roared with laughter ; and the monk, his 
 back to the wall, and his arms crossed, gazed at the ruffian. 
 
 " Do you know, little father, that I do not like that joke ? 
 By God ! if you were not a monk, I would pay you, by 
 teaching you to know with whom you are dealing." And as 
 he spoke, he thrust his hand close to the young man's face, 
 and just twitched his moustache with his finger ends. 
 
 Then the monk's countenance flamed scarlet. With one 
 hand he collared the insolent scoundrel, and with the other 
 he grasped the bottle, and smashed it on Bois-Dauphin's 
 head with such force that he fell senseless on the floor, 
 drenched at once with wine and blood. 
 
 " Well done, my boy ! " cried the old monk. " You have a 
 heavy hand for one of the cloth ! " 
 
 " Bois-Dauphin is killed! " cried the three assassins, seeing 
 that their comrade did not stir. " Scoundrel ! We will 
 curry )our hide for you!" and they grasped their swords. 
 But the young monk, with surprising alertness, tucked up 
 the long sleeves of his gown, got possession of Bois- 
 Dauphin's sword, and threw himself into a posture of 
 defence, in the most resolute way in the world. At the 
 same moment, his brother monk drew from beneath his 
 cassock a dagger, with a blade half-a-yard long, and took 
 position by the other's side, with an air not less soldierly. 
 " Now, blackguards !" cried he, " we will teach you how to 
 behave, and give you a lesson in your own business." And 
 in the twinkling of an eye the three scoundrels, wounded or 
 disarmed, were driven to jump through the window. 
 
 "Jesu Maria!" cried Dame Marguerite, "you are stout 
 men-at-arms, holy fathers ! You do religion credit ! -Still
 
 270 CHKOX/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 there is a man killed, and that is awkward for my house's 
 reputation." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said the old monk. " He is not killed, I 
 see him wriggling. But I will give him e.xtreme unction." 
 Then, drawing near the wounded man, he caught him liy 
 his hair, set the edge of the dagirer to his throat, and would 
 have cut his head off, if Dame Marguerite and his fellow 
 monk had not stopped him. 
 
 " Good God ! " said Marguerite, " what are you doing ? 
 Kill a man ? And a man who passes for a good Catholic? — 
 though, as you have seen, he is nothing of the kind." 
 
 "I guess," said the young monk to his brother, "that 
 urgent business calls )ou, as it does me, to Beaugenc\-. 
 There is the boat ; let us lose no time." 
 
 " You are right ; I am with you," said he ; and wiping 
 his dagger, he replaced it untler his gown. Then the two 
 valiant monks, after paying their score, went side by side to 
 the Loire, leaving Bois-Dauphin in Marguerite's hands. 
 She began b\- rummaging his pockets, and paying herself: 
 then she set to work to pick out the bits of glass with which 
 his face bristled, and to dress his wounds according to the 
 regular fiishion ot good women in such cases. 
 
 " Unless I am much mistaken, I have seen you some- 
 where," said the young man to the old P'ranciscan. 
 
 "And may the devil take me if I do not know your face 
 too. But " 
 
 " When I .saw you first, I tlo not think ) ou wore that 
 cassock." 
 
 " And how about \ourself ?" 
 
 " Then you are Captain " 
 
 " Dietrich Hornstein, at your service. And you are the 
 gentleman with whom I dined once near Htampes ?"
 
 THE TWO MOXKS. 271 
 
 " I am." 
 
 "Then your name is Merg^y ?" 
 
 " It is : but not just now. I am I' riar Ambrose." 
 
 " And I am Friar Anthony of Alsace." 
 
 " Very well. And where are you going ? " 
 
 " To La Rochelle, if I can get there." 
 
 " So am I." 
 
 " I am charmed to meet you. But, the devil! you put 
 me in a desperate fix with your 'grace' ! I did not know a 
 word of it ; and I took ) ou for a real monk if ever there was 
 one." 
 
 " I can return the compliment." 
 
 " But where did you escape Irom ?" said Hornstein. 
 
 " From Paris. And you ?" 
 
 " From Orleans : I had to hide for more than a week. 
 My poor troopers, cornet and all, are in the Loire." 
 
 "And Mila.>" 
 
 "She turned Catholic. ' 
 
 "And my horse, captain ?" 
 
 " Ah : your horse ? Well, I made the rascal trumpeter 
 who robbed you run the gauntlet. But as I did not know 
 where you lived, I could not send the horse back ; and 
 so you see I kept him till I should have the honour of 
 meeting you. Now, no doubt, he belongs to some scoun- 
 drelly Papist." 
 
 " Flush, captain ! Do not say that word so loud. But 
 come, let us join our fortunes together, and be allies as we 
 were just now." 
 
 " So be it : as long as Dietrich Hornstein has a drop of 
 blood in his veins he will be ready to play a good knife at 
 your side. ' And they struck hands thereon joylull)'. 
 
 "But now I think on it, tell me what thev meant with
 
 272 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 their chickens and their Carpani, Pcrcliaiu / Truly these 
 Papists are a pack of idiots." 
 
 " Hush, again ! here is the boat." 
 
 Talking thus, they came to the vessel, went on board, and 
 reached Beaugency without farther accident, except meeting 
 divers corpses of their brethren in the taith floating on the 
 Loire. 
 
 One of the boatmen observed that most ol these corpses 
 floated face upwards. " They are imploring vengeance 
 from heaven ! " whispered Mergy to the captain of Reiters, 
 and Dietrich scjueezed his hantl in answer. 
 
 "■^Se 
 

 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE SIEGE OF LA KOCHELLE. 
 
 " Still hope and sulTtr all who can ! " 
 
 Mo(TKE, J'/iu fui/ge Family. 
 
 LA ROCH ELLE, almost the entire population of which 
 professed the Reformed Faith, was at this time a kind 
 of capital to the provinces of the south, and the staunchest 
 bulwark of the Protestant party. Extensive commercial 
 relations with Spain and England had brought to the town 
 considerable wealth, and the spirit of independence which 
 wealth begets and fosters. The inhabi- 
 tants, fishers or sailors by trade, 
 not uncommonly 
 privateersmen, ac- 
 customed from 
 their earliest years 
 to the hazards of
 
 274 CffROX/CLl'lS OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 an adventurous lite, were imbued with an energy which 
 stood them in stead of discipline and practice in regular war. 
 Therefore, when the news of the massacre of the 24th of 
 August came, the men of Rochelle were far from giving 
 theinselves up to the stolid resignation which, seizing upon 
 most Protestants, had made them despair of their cause ; 
 hut were, on the contrary, inflamed with that active and 
 formidable courage which despair sometimes supplies. 
 With one accord they made up their minds to stand the 
 last extremities, rather than open their gates to an enemy 
 who had just given so striking a proof of perfidious 
 savagery. While the ministers fed the flames of this zeal 
 by fanatical preachings, women, children, and old men 
 vied with each other in working at the repair of the old 
 fortifications and the construction of new ones. Pro- 
 \isions and arms were collected ; boats and ships were 
 put in commission ; in short, not a moment was lost in 
 getting into order all the means ot defence which the city 
 possessed. Many gentlemen who had escaped the mas- 
 sacres came to join the Rochellese, and inspired the most 
 timid with courage by the picture which they drew of the 
 atrocities of Saint Bartholomew. To men who had just 
 escaped a seemingly certain death the chances of ordinary 
 war were like a capful of wind to sailors who have just 
 weathered a hurricane. Mergy and his companion were 
 among the number ot the fugitives who thus came to swell 
 the garrison of La Rochelle. 
 
 The Court of Paris, alarmed by these preparations, 
 regretted that it had not anticipated them, and the Marshal 
 de Biron approached Rochelle bearing proposals for an 
 understanding. The King had some ground for hoping 
 that his choice of Biron would please the Rochellese ; for
 
 THE SIFA'.E OF LA ROCHEI.LE. 
 
 275 
 
 the marshal had not only taken no part in the massacre of 
 Saint Bartholomew, but had saved several distinguished 
 Protestants, and had even levelled the guns 
 of the Arsenal, where he commanded, at 
 assassins bearing the royal cognizance. His 
 only demand was to be received into the 
 town and acknowledged there as the King's 
 governor, with a promise to respect all the 
 rights and privileges of the inhabitants, and 
 
 to leave them 
 ercise of their 
 how was it possible 
 in Charles IX.'s 
 
 free ex- 
 religion. Hut 
 again to put faith 
 promises alter the 
 
 slaughter of si.xty thousand Protestants ? Besides, during 
 the very course of the negotiations, the massacres continued 
 at Bordeaux, Biron's soldiery plundered the territory of 
 Rochelle, and a ro)-al fleet seized merchant ships and 
 blockaded the port. 
 
 N N
 
 276 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 The Rochellese refused admission to Biron, and answered 
 that they could not negotiate with the King so long as he 
 remained the Guises' prisoner : perhaps because the)' really 
 believed that this tamily were the sole authors ot the woes 
 of Calvinism, ])erhaps because b)' a fictii_)n, often repeated 
 since, they wished to set at ease the consciences of those 
 who might otherwise have held that loyalty to the King 
 ought to have the precedence over sectarian interests. 
 Thenceforward an understanding became impossible. Yet 
 the King bethought him ol another agent, and sent La 
 None. 
 
 La None, surnamed Iron-arm, Ijecause of an artificial arm 
 with which he had replaced one lost in battle, was a zealous 
 Calvinist, who in the late civil wars had shown the utmost 
 courao-e and irreat militarv skill. The Admiral, whose 
 friend he was, had had no more able anil no more faithful 
 lieutenant. At the time of the massacre he was in the 
 Netherlands organizing the irregular bands of insurgent 
 Flemings against the Spanish forces. Ill-served by fortune, 
 he had been obliged to yield himself prisoner to the Duke of 
 Alva, by whom he had been kindly treated. Later, and when 
 the vast effusion oi blood had excited some remorse, 
 Charles IX. demanded him from the .Si:)aniards, and, con- 
 trary to e.xpectation, gave him a most flattering reception. 
 The King, always in extremes, heaped favours on one Pro- 
 testant just after he had caused the murder of scores of 
 thousands. Indeed, La N one's fate seemed to be under 
 some special Providence, for he had already been made 
 prisoner twice during the tliird civil war, once at larnacand 
 once at Montcontour, and had on each occasion been set free 
 without ransom by the King's brother,' against the repre- 
 
 ' Tlie I)ul<e of AnjoLi, afterwards Henri III.
 
 THE SIEGE OF LA ROCHE LIE. 277 
 
 sentations of many of his officers, who urged him to make 
 an example of a man too dangerous to be spared and too 
 honest to be corrupted. Charles thought that La Noue 
 would be minilful of his clemency, and entrusted him with 
 the task of exhorting the Rochellese to submit. La Noue 
 accepted the commission (sti[)ulating, however, that the 
 King should not demand of him anything dishonourable), 
 and set out accompanied by an Italian priest, whose duty 
 was to keep an eye on his conduct. 
 
 From the very first he had the mortification of finding 
 that he was not trusted. He could not gain admission to 
 La Rochelle ; but a village in the neighbourhood was desig- 
 nated as a place of conference, and here, at Tadon, he met 
 the deputies of the city. He knew them all as a man knows 
 his old brethren in arms ; but when he appeared not a man 
 held out the hand of friendship to him, not a man appeared 
 even to know who he was. He had to announce himself, 
 and then set forth the King's proposals, the substance of his 
 speech being, " Trust the King's promises ; for civil war is 
 the worst of evils." But the Mayor of La Rochelle answered, 
 with a bitter smile, " We see before us a man who is like 
 La Noue, but La Noue would not have suggested that his 
 brethren should submit to assassins. La Noue loved our 
 late lord the Admiral, and would have been bent on 
 avenofinof him rather than on bargaining with his mur- 
 derers. No ; you are not La Noue !" The unlucky ambas- 
 sador, cut to the heart by these reproaches, recalled the 
 services which he had done to the Calvinist cause, showed 
 his maimed arm, and protested his devotion to religion. 
 Little by little the mistrust of the Rochellese melted ; they 
 opened their gates to La Noue, they showed him what 
 means of defence they had, and even urged him to put
 
 278 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 himself at their head. The ofter was very tempting to an 
 old soldier, and his oath to Charles included a qualification 
 which might be conscientiously construed in dilTerent ways. 
 La None thought that by putting himself at the head of the 
 Rochellese he should be in better case to bring them back 
 to peaceful sentiments ; and he also thought that he might 
 reconcile the allefriance he had sworn to his Kino- with that 
 which he owed to his religion. Ikit he deceived himself. 
 The royal troops came to attack Rochelle ; La None headed 
 every sortie, and killed plenty of Catholics. Then, return- 
 ing to the cit)', he exhorted the townsmen to come to terms. 
 The result was that the Catholics vowed he had broken his 
 word to the King, and the Protestants accused him of 
 wishing to betray them. 
 
 In this plight La None, with every kind of disgust heaped 
 ui)on him, tried to i)ut an end to it b)' exposing his life 
 tvventN' times a tlay.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 LA NOUE. 
 
 ' Fiviicslc. Cap de you I C'cl liomnie ne se inoiii-Iie pas ilii talon I " 
 
 D'Ai ;ii]<;N(;, Lc Baron ilc Fccncslc. 
 
 THE besieged had just made a successful sally against 
 the advanced works of the Catholic army. They had 
 filled up many yards of trench, overset divers gabions, and 
 killed some hundred men or so, and the detachment which 
 had gained this success was returning into town by the 
 Tadon gate. First marched Captain Dietrich and a com- 
 pany of arquebusiers. all with heated countenances, panting
 
 2 So CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 breath, and loudl)- calling' for drink, which showed that they 
 had not spared themselves in the tight. Then came a nume- 
 rous troop ot townsmen, among whom were to be noticed 
 more than one woman, who seemed to have borne a share in 
 the battle. These were lollowed by some two score prisoners, 
 mostol them covered with wounds, and guarded by a double 
 fde of soldiers, who had much ado to defend them from the 
 rage ot the people as they passed. The rearguard was 
 formed by some twenty mounted men, with La None, to whom 
 Mergy acted as aide-de-camp, last of all. His cuirass was 
 indented by a bullet, and his horse was wounded in two 
 places. In his lelt hand he held a just-discharged pistol, 
 and he managed his horse by the aid of a hook which issued, 
 in place ot a hand, from his right arm -piece. 
 
 ■' Let the prisoners pass, good friends ! " he cried every 
 instant. " Be mercitul, good Rochellese ! They are wounded ; 
 they are detenceless ; they are enemies no longer! " 
 
 But the mob answered by fierce cries of " To the gibbet 
 with the Papists ! to the gallows with them ! and long- live 
 La None ! " Mergy and the horsemen, with some well- 
 timed blows of their lance-butts, emphasized the generous 
 recommendations ot their leader, and the prisoners were at 
 last conducted to the city gaol ami installeLl, under a strong 
 guard, in a place where they had nothing to fear from 
 popular lury. The detachment dispersed ; and La Noue, 
 with no other following save a {*t\\ gentlemen, dismounted 
 betore the townhall at the same time that the mayor came 
 forth, followed by some citizens and an old minister of the 
 name of Laplace. 
 
 " Well, brave La Noue," said the mavor, holding out liis 
 hand, " you have just shown these cut-throats that all Ijrave 
 men did not die with the Admiral !"
 
 /../ XOUE. 28 r 
 
 "The affair went fortunately enough, sir," said La None 
 modestly ; " we lost but five killed and few wounded." 
 
 "As it was you who led the sally, M. de la Noue," returned 
 the mayor, " we were sure of victory beforehand." 
 
 "And what could La Noue do without the hel]) ol 
 God?" crie-d the old minister sourlw " It is the mighty 
 God who has fouglit tor us to-day : He has heard our 
 prayers ! " 
 
 "It is God," said La Noue in his calm voice, "who 
 gives victory and withholds it as He wills ; and Him only 
 must we thank for success in war. ' Then turning to the 
 mayor, " Well, Master Mayor, has the council deliberated 
 on his Majesty's last offers.'' ' 
 
 " It has," answered the mayor. " We have just sent the 
 trumpeter back to Monsieur, begging him to spare himself 
 the trouble of summoning us afresh to surrender. Hence- 
 forward we shall answer only with musket-shots." 
 
 " Ye should have hanged the trum])eter, ' remarked the 
 minister. " F"or is it not written, 'There be men of Belial 
 come out of the midst of \'ou who have striven to seduce 
 the men of their city. . . . But thou shalt not spare to slay 
 them ; thy hand shall be first on them, and then the hand of 
 all the people ' 1" 
 
 La Noue sighed and looked to heaven, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 " What !" continued the mayor, " surrender ? Surrender, 
 when the walls are standing ? when the foe does not even 
 dare to attack them close, while we beard him in his 
 trenches every day ? Take my word for it, M. de la Noue, 
 were there not a soldier in Rochellc, the women would be 
 strong enough by themselves to keep off these I'arisian 
 butchers ! "
 
 282 C/J/WX/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Sir, the stronger party should speak moderatel)' ot his 
 enemy ; and the weaker " 
 
 " Who told you that we were the weaker ? " interrupted 
 Laplace. " Does not God fight for us ? and was not Gideon, 
 with three hundred men of Israel, too strong for all the host 
 of the Midianites ? " 
 
 " Vou know, Master Mayor," continued La Noue, "better, 
 than any man, how insufficient are our stores. Powder is 
 running low, and I have had to forbid the arquebusiers to 
 risk long shots." 
 
 " Montgomery will send us some from England," said the 
 mayor. 
 
 " The fire of heaven will fall on the Papists," said the 
 minister. 
 
 " But bread grows dearer every day. Master Mayor." 
 
 " In a day or two the English fleet will be here, and then 
 the town will have plent)'." 
 
 "God will cause manna to fall, if it be needed!" cried 
 Laplace vehemently. 
 
 " As for the succour you speak of," went on La Noue, "a 
 few days' southerly wind will make it impossible for it to 
 enter the harbour. Besides, it may be taken." 
 
 " The wind will blow from the north. I prophesy it, O 
 man of little faith ! " said the minister. " Thou hast lost 
 thy courage at the same time as thy right arm ! " 
 
 La Noue seemed to have made up his mind to return him 
 no answer. He went on, still addressing the mayor only : 
 
 " The loss of a sinu-le man falls heavier on us than the 
 loss of ten on the enemy. I fear lest, if the Catholics press 
 the siege with activity, we be forced to accept terms harder 
 far than those which you have just scornfully rejected. And 
 if, as I hope, the King deigns to content himself with having
 
 /.A yOUE. 28.5 
 
 his authority recognized 1)\- the town, without demanding 
 sacrifices which we cannot make, I l)elieve it to be our dut\- 
 to open our gates to him ; tor after all, he is our master. " 
 
 " We have no other master than Christ ! And none- but 
 the impious can call Charles — the savage Ahab, wdio drinks 
 the blood of the prophets — their master ! " Thus cried the 
 minister, whose rage seemed to redouble as he l)eheld i.a 
 N one's imperturbable calm. 
 
 " For my part," .said the mayor, " I remember very well 
 how, the last time the Atlmiral [massed through our town, he 
 said to us, ' TIk: King has pledged me his word that all his 
 subjects, Protestant and Catholic, shall be treated alike.' 
 Six months later this same King, who pledged his word to 
 the Admiral, had him murdered. If we open our gates, 
 we shall have a Saint Bartholomew here as they had at 
 Paris. " 
 
 "The King was deceived by the Guises," said La Noue. 
 " He repents it now, and would gladly make atonement for 
 the bloodshed. If you provoke the Catholics by your obsti- 
 nate refusal to treat, you will have to deal with all the forces 
 of the kinjrdom, and the sole refuge of the reformed faith 
 will be destroyed. Be persuaded by me, Master Mayor — 
 peace ! peace !" 
 
 "Coward! " cried the minister. "Thou desirest peace 
 because thou fearest tor thy lile ! " 
 
 " Oh, Master Laplace! " said the mayor. 
 
 "In short," went on La Noue coolly, "my last word is, 
 that if the King will consent to put no garrison in La 
 Rochelle, and to leave our meetings free, we ought to offer 
 him the keys and assure him of our submission." 
 
 "Thou art a traitor!" saitl Laplace: "and thou hast 
 been ct)rruptcd b)' the tyrants!"
 
 284 
 
 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 "(Jood God! Master Laplace !" said the mayor again, 
 " what are you saying ? " 
 
 La None smiled slightly and contemptuously. 
 
 " You see, Master Mayor," said he, " the times we live in 
 are strange : men of war speak of peace, 
 and ministers preach war. My good sir," 
 he continued, at last ad- 
 
 f--- 
 
 dressing Laplace, " it is dinner-time, 1 think, and \-oin- wite 
 must be e.xpecting you at home. ' 
 
 The.se last words put the finishing touch to the divine's 
 fury. He could not hit on any verlial insult ; and as a box 
 on the ear is a good suLxstitute for a reasonable answer, he 
 dealt one on the old .soldier's cheek. 
 
 " In God's name ! what are you doing? "cried the major. 
 "Strike M. de la None! — the iiest citizen and the bravest 
 soldier of Rochelle ! " 
 
 Mergy, who was present, was about to administer to
 
 /.A XOUE. 285 
 
 Laplace a correction which he would not soon have for- 
 j^otten, but La Noue held him hack. I-'or a single moment, 
 when his grizzled beard was touched by the old madman's 
 hand, there passed with the speed of thought over his eyes a 
 Hash of furious indignation. Hut his countenance at once re- 
 covered its impassive air. It might have been thought that 
 the minister had struck tlie marble bust of a Roman senator, 
 or that La Noue himself had been touched by some inani- 
 mate thing driven accidentally against him. 
 
 " Take the old man back to his wife," said he to one ot 
 the townsmen, who were dragging the minister away. " Tell 
 her to have a care of him ; he is surely not well to-day. 
 And you, Master Mayor, I pray you have me ready a 
 hundred and fifty citizen volunteers ; for I would make a 
 sally to-morrow at break of day, just when the soldiers, who 
 have spent the night in the trenches, are stiff with cold, 
 like bears attacked at the thaw. I have often noticed that 
 folk who have slept under a good roof have easy work at 
 morning-tide with those who have pas.sed the night in the 
 open air. Monsieur de Mergy, if you are not in a great 
 hurry for dinner, will you take a turn with me to the Gospel 
 Bastion ? I should like to see how the enemy's works are 
 trettinsf on." Then, saluting the mayor, and resting his hand 
 on the young man's shoulder, he bent his steps to the bastion. 
 
 They entered it the moment alter two men had been 
 mortally wounded by a gunshot ; the stones were dyed with 
 blood, and one of the wretches was imploring his comrades 
 to put him out of his misery. La Noue, his elbow on the 
 parapet, gazed silently for some time at the besiegers' 
 works ; then he turned towards Mergy. " All war is 
 hideous," said he, "but a civil war ! That ball was rammed 
 into a French cannon ; it was a 1' renchman who levelled
 
 2 86 
 
 CJIRO.y/C/ hS OF CHARLES AV. 
 
 the eun, and liekl ihu match, and those whom the bah has 
 killed are two Frenchmen. And yet, to cause death half 
 a mile off is nothing ; but M. de Mergy, when one has to 
 plunge a sword into the bosom of a m.ui who cries lor 
 ([uarter in your own tongue . . . .! And we have done that 
 \ery thing this very niDrning! " 
 
 ■• Ah, sir, but if \ou had seen the massacres un the twenty- 
 fourth I If you had passed the .Seine when it ran red, and 
 
 t.irrietl more corpses than il floats down iceblocks in winter 
 when the frost breaks, you would feel little pit)' for those 
 with whom we are tighting. To me every I'apist is a 
 murderer." 
 
 " r^o not slander your country," said La None. " In yonder 
 besieging army there are very few of the wretches ol whom 
 I you speak. The soldiers are Trench peasants, who have 
 ([uitted their ploughs to earn the King's pa)': the gentlemen 
 .md the captains fight because of their oath of allegiance to the 
 King. It may be that they are right and that we are rebels ! " 
 " Rebels } But our cause is just : we fight Un- t'aith and 
 life."
 
 /.// NOUE. 287 
 
 " I sec ydu are not imuh troubled with scruples, M. tie 
 Mergy ; you are a happy warrior," and the old hero sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 " By the I.ortl !" said a soldier, who had just let off his 
 piece, " that devil there must bear a charnieil life. 1 have 
 been marking him down tor three tla\s, and 1 have never 
 even grazed him." 
 
 " Whom do you mean ^." asked Merg\'. 
 
 "There! tlo you see the spark in tlie white iloublet, 
 with a red scarf and feather i* Kvery day he paces Lip and 
 down, maugre our beards, as il to i)rave us. It is one of the 
 gilt swords of the Court, who c.une with i\Ionsieiu'." 
 
 " It is a long shot," said Mergv ; " but ne\er mind. Ciive 
 me an arquebuss." 
 
 A soldier handed him his piece ; Mergy rested the end 
 of the barrel on the parapet, and took a careful aim. 
 
 "Suppose he were a friend ot )'ours ? " said La None. 
 "Why do you want to play the musketeer thus ?" 
 
 Mergy, who was about to draw trigger, held his hand. 
 
 " I have no friends," he said, " but one, among the 
 Catholics, and he, I am sure, is not among our besiegers." 
 
 " But suppose \our brother were in Monsieur's suite, and 
 it were he ? " 
 
 The arquebuss went oft, but Mergy's finger had trembled, 
 and the dust sent up by the bullet rose at some distance 
 from the promenader. Mergy did not believe that his 
 brother could be in the Catholic camp; but he was not sorry 
 to see that he had missed. The person at whom he had shot 
 continued his slow walk, and at last disappeared behintl (.)ne 
 of the jjiles ot freshdieaped earth which were rising around 
 the cit\' on all sides.
 
 
 THE SALLY. 
 
 ' Hamlet. UeaJ Tor a ducat, deail ! " 
 
 SHAKESI'F.ARK. 
 
 
 *^- 
 
 ACOLD ([x'v/.zXwv^ rain, which haJ 
 fallen unintcrruiitcilly throui^rhnut the 
 whole niyht, liatl jusl ceased when the 
 dawning- day was heralded in the sky by 
 a pale light in the east. This 
 "^ lis^ht struggled through a 
 ;avy fog, which clung close
 
 290 CHRO.X/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 to the earth, though the wind dispersed it here and there, 
 niakinq- large gaps. But the grey Heecy masses soon 
 coalesced again, as the waves, cloven i)y a ship, iall back 
 and fill up th^ wake it has left. The champaign, covered 
 with this dense mist, through which tree-trunks peered at 
 intervals, looked like one great inundation. 
 
 In the town, the uncertain light of dawn, aided l)y the 
 Hare of torches, shone upon a pretty numerous troop of 
 soldiers and volunteers, who vvcre gathered in the street 
 leading to the ("lospel Ijastion. The)- were stamping their 
 feet on the pavement, and shuffling about without changing 
 their actual position, as men do who are pierced by the 
 damp and searching cold of a winter sunrise. They did not 
 spare oaths and vigorous execrations against the leader who 
 had put them under arms so early ; but despite the strength 
 of their language, there was to he detected in it the cheerful 
 hope which animates soldiers led by a chiet wliom tliey 
 value. They kept saying, in tones half-jesting and halt- 
 angry, " This confounded Iron-arm, this Jack Never-sleep, 
 cannot eat his breakfast till he has beat up the quarters of 
 the babe-bolters yonder. -A plague on him ! one never can 
 make sure of a night's rest with a devil ot a tellow like 
 that.- By our dt-ad lord the Admiral's beard! if I do not 
 hear the muskets talk soon, I shall l^o to sleep, as if I were 
 in bed — Thank God ! here is a dram coming to wake our 
 hearts in our bodies, and save us from catching cold in this 
 diabolical log." 
 
 While the brandy was being served out to the soldiers, the 
 officers, clustering round La Noue, who was standing under 
 the penthouse of a shop, listened with interest to the 
 plan of the attack which he proposed to make on the be- 
 sieijinti- armv. The roll of the drums was heard, each fell
 
 THE SALLY. 291 
 
 into his place, and a niinislcr came forward and blessed 
 the soldiers, exhorting them to do their duty, and promising 
 them eternal life if for too good reasons, they were not 
 able to come back to the town and receive the rewards and 
 thanks of their fellow citizens. The sermon was a short 
 one; but La None thought it too long. He was not the 
 same man who the evening liefore deplored every drop ot 
 French blood shed in the war ; he was simply a soldier, 
 and seemed ea^er to revisit the scene of carnao-e. No 
 sooner was the minister's discourse finished ; no sooner had 
 the soldiers returned their " Amen," than he cried in tones 
 firm and even harsh, " Comrades ! the good man has said 
 well. Let us trust in God and our Lady of the Hardhitters! 
 I will kill the first man who fires before a Papist's stomach 
 is within range of his wad, if I come out alive myself!" 
 
 " Sir," whispered Mergy to him, " this is different talk from 
 last night's." 
 
 " Do you know Latin? " asked La Noue brusquely. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mergy. 
 
 "Then remember that admirable maxim, Age quod agis." 
 
 He gave the signal. A cannon-shot was fired, and the 
 whole body set out at quick march for the open, while at 
 the same time small parties of soldiers, sallying by different 
 gates, went to beat up different parts of the hostile lines, 
 that the Catholics, thinking themselves assailed on all sides, 
 might not dare to send reinforcements to the scene of the 
 grand assault, for fear of deserting works which seemed 
 everywhere threatened. 
 
 The Gospel Bastion, against which the engineers of the 
 Catholic army had been concentrating their efforts, was 
 especially exposed to a battery of five guns, established on 
 a knoll, crowned by some ruined buildings, which had 
 
 1' r 
 
 &
 
 292 CHROX/CLES OF CHARLES EX. 
 
 before the siege been those of a mill. A ditch and an 
 earthwork guarded the approach to this from tlie city ; and 
 in front of the ditch several arquebusiers stood sentinel. But, 
 as the Protestant leader had foreseen, their guns, exposed 
 to the damp for several hours, were sure to be almost use- 
 less, and the attacking party, well equipped in all respects, and 
 ready for the assault, had a great advantage over men taken 
 by surprise, weary with watching, drenched with rain, and 
 shivering with cold. The first sentinels were despatched 
 with the cold steel, but some musket-shots, which had had the 
 luck to go off, woke the battery guards in time to see the 
 enemy already over the parapet, and climbing the ascent ol 
 the mill-hill. Some resistance was attempted, but weapons- 
 ilropped from hands stiff with cold, and almost every arque- 
 buss missed fire, while not a shot or blow of the assailants 
 was lost. Victory ceased to be doubtful, and already 
 the Protestants, masters of the battery, began to shout 
 savagely: " No quarter! Remember the twenty-fourth of 
 August ! " 
 
 Some fifty soldiers with their captain occupied the mill- 
 tower ; and the officer, in his night garments, with a pillow 
 in one hand and his sword in the other, opened the gate 
 and came out, asking what the disturbance was. So far 
 was he from even thinking of a sally on the enemy's part, 
 that he fancied the noise to be due to some squabble among 
 his own soldiers. He was cruelly undeceived ; for a halberd- 
 blow stretched him on the ground bathed in his own blood. 
 His men had time to shut and barricade the gate of the 
 tower, and for some minutes they made good their defence 
 by firing from the windows. But there happened to be 
 stacked against the building a great mass of straw and 
 hay, as well as of brushwood lor the gabions. The Pro-
 
 THE S.I/./, y. 293 
 
 testants set fire to this, and in a moment llu: llanu's had 
 enveloped the tower and climbed to its summit. Soon hor- 
 rible cries came forth ; the roof hatl caught, and was ready 
 to fall on the wretches whom it hail sheltered. The gate 
 was on fire, and the barricades they had made themselves 
 prevented their e.xit that way. If they attempted to jump 
 from the windows they fell into the burning pile or wcrt- 
 spitted on pike-points. Then was seen a hideous sight. 
 An ensign, sheathed in complete armour, tried, like the 
 rest, to leap from a narrow window. His corslet ended, as 
 was then a common enough fashion, in a sort of iron .skirt' 
 covering the thighs and belly, and widening like a funnel- 
 mouth so as to give easy room for walking. The window 
 was not wide enough to let this part of the armour pass ; 
 and the ensign, in his excitement, had thrust himself so 
 violently in, that the greater part of his bod)- was outside 
 without its being possible for him, held as he was in a sort 
 ot vice, to move further. Meanwhile the flames rose to 
 him, heated his armour, and roasted him in it slowly as in a 
 furnace or in the famous brazen bull invented by- Phalaris. 
 The wretch uttered horrible cries, and vainly waved his 
 arms as it imploring succour. I'Or a moment there was 
 silence among the attacking party ; then together, and as if 
 by common consent, they shouted a war-cry as though to 
 divert their own attention and drown the groans of the 
 burning man. He soon disappeared in a blast of flame and 
 
 ' Armour like this can be .seen at the .-Xrtillery Museum. \ very fine 
 sketch of a tournament by Rubens shows how, notuithstanding this iron 
 skirt, it was still i)ossible to mount a horse. The saddles have on them a 
 sort of small stool, which goes under the skirt and raises the rider till his 
 knees are almost on a level with his horse's head. For the man burnt in 
 his armour see l)'.\ubigne"s " Histoire Universelle.'' 
 
 " [" I''or," not '■ bv," a slip of Merimi^e's 1 — Tnj/islati'r's N'ote.
 
 294 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES LX. 
 
 smoke, and a helmet, red-hot and smoking, was seen to fall 
 
 in the midst of the ruins ot the tower. 
 
 In the heat •% ^i^ of combat emotions of horror and 
 
 long ; the instinct of self-preser- 
 to the soldier's mind too forcibly 
 for him to be able long to attend 
 to the miseries of others. While 
 some of the Rochellese pursued 
 
 1^. 1^^, 
 
 
 the 
 
 the 
 
 wheels, and 
 
 ditch the gabions ol 
 
 garrison. 
 
 Mergy, who had been one of the first in the escalade of 
 the ditch and the rampart, took breath for a moment, just 
 loii!/ enough to scratch the name of Diane on one ot the 
 
 the battery ane 
 
 others spiked 
 smashed their 
 hurled into the 
 the corpses of its
 
 THE SAI.I.Y. .'95 
 
 batter)- guns. Then he hel|)ed the othc^rs to destroy the 
 besiegers' works. Meanwhile a soldier had hft('il up the 
 head of the CathoHc captain, who gave no sign of hfc, while 
 anothf^- took his feet, and both swinging him between them 
 in cadence, were about to hurl him into the ditch. .Suddenly 
 the apparent corpse, opening its eyes, recognized Mergy 
 and cried, "Quarter, Mergy! I am a prisoner, save me! 
 Do you not know your friend Beville ?" The poor fellow's 
 face was covered with blood, and Mergy had some difficulty 
 in recognizing in this dying man the )oung courtic-r whom 
 he had left full of life and mirth. He had him stretched 
 carefully on the grass, him.self bound up his wounds, and 
 after laying him across a horse, gave orders that he should 
 be taken gently into the town. In the act of bidding him 
 farewell and helping to lead the horse out of the battery, 
 he saw through an opening of the fog a body of cavalry- 
 advancing at a trot, between the city and the mill. To all 
 appearance it was a detachment cjf Catholic troops trying to 
 cut off their retreat. Mergy at once hastened to warn 
 La Noue, and said, " If you will give me only two score 
 arquebusiers, I will throw myself behind the hollow way 
 through which they must pass, and if they do not turn tail 
 promptly I will give you leave to hang me!" 
 
 " Excellent, my boy !" said La Noue. " You will make a 
 good general some of these days. Come, men, follow this 
 gentleman and do what he tells you." 
 
 In a very short time Mergy had ensconced his arcjue- 
 busiers along the hedge. He made tliem kneel on one 
 knee and get their weapons read)- ; but above all he forbade 
 a single shot to be fired till he gave the word. The hostile 
 cavalry rode rapidi)' up, and already their horse-hoofs were 
 clearlv heard in the mud of the hollow wav.
 
 296 
 
 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 "Their captain," whispered Mergy, "is the red-plumed 
 rascal whom we missed yesterday. Do not let us miss him 
 to-day." 
 
 The arquebusier on his right nodded as though to say he 
 would take care of that. The horsemen were not twenty 
 paces off, and their leader, turning to his men, seemed about 
 to give an order, when Mergy, rising suddenly, shouted 
 "Fire!" 
 
 The captain with the red plume turned his head, and 
 Mergy recognized his brother. He darted his hand towards 
 his neighbour's piece to strike it aside ; but before he 
 touched it the shot sped. The horsemen, startled at the 
 une.xpected volley, lied in difterent directions over the 
 ])lain ; but Captain George tell pierced with two bullets. 
 
 k^iSLx 
 
 %^ ^ -—
 
 CHAPTER XX\11. 
 
 TIIK IIOSI'ITAI.. 
 
 " Father. Why are you so olistinale ? 
 
 Pierre. Why you so troiiljlcsome, that a poor wietcli 
 Can't (lie in peace, 
 Hut you, like ravens, will be croaking round him?" 
 
 Otvvay, I'eniic Preserved. 
 
 A I-^ORMER monastery, sequestrated some time before 
 jr\. by the Town Council ot La Rochelle, had been, 
 during the siege, turned into a hospital for the wounded. 
 The pavement of the chapel (whence benches, altar, and all 
 other furniture had been removed) was covered with hay 
 and straw, and hither they carried the rank and hie. The 
 refectory was set a])art for officers and gentlemen. It was 
 a spacious apartment, handsomely panelled witli old oak,
 
 298 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 and its walls were pierced with wide pointed window?, 
 giviny lig'lit enough tor the surgical operations which un- 
 ceasingly went on within it. 
 
 Here Captain George lay on a mattress, stained with his 
 own !.)lood and with that of many other unfortunates who 
 had preceded him in this place of pain. A truss of straw 
 served him as pillow ; he was naked to the waist, for they 
 had just taken off his corslet and torn his shirt and doublet 
 open ; but his right arm still bore the steel armpiece and 
 gauntlet. A soldier was stanching the blood which flowed 
 from his wounds, one in the belly just below the cuirass, 
 the other, of less importance, in the left arm. Mergy was 
 so overwhelmed by grief that he was unable to be of any 
 effectual assistance. Now weeping on his knees in front of 
 the captain, now rolling on the ground with cries of despair, 
 he reproached himself unceasingly with having slain the 
 kindest of brothers and the best of friends. P)Ut the captain 
 was calm enough meanwhile and tried to moderate his 
 transports. 
 
 A few feet from his mattress was another on which the 
 luckless Beville lay in equally evil case. But his features 
 did not e.xhibit the same quiet resignation which was 
 noticeable on the captain's. From time to time he let slip 
 a muffled groan and turned his eyes to his neighbour as if 
 to beg a share of his own courage and fortitude. 
 
 A man of some forty years, dry, thin, bald, and covered 
 with wrinkles, entered the hall and drew near Captain 
 George, holding in his hand a green bag, whence there 
 issued a certain rattle very terrible to poor wounded men. 
 It was Master Brisart, a surgeon skilful enough for the 
 time, and a friend and pupil of the famous Ambrose Par6. 
 He had just operated ; for his arms were: bare to the elbow.
 
 Jill: IIOSI'JTAL. 
 
 299 
 
 and hc! was still i^irt with a large apron all stained witli 
 blood. 
 
 "Who are you, and what do )-ou want with me?" asked 
 George ot him. 
 
 " 1 am a SLn^geon, my good sir, and if 
 you tlo not know the name of Master 
 Brisart, there must be many things of 
 which you are ignorant. Come, pluck u[) 
 a sheep's courage, as the sa3ing is. I 
 know something of gun-shot wounds, 
 thank God ! And I wouKl I had as 
 
 many hags of a thousand H\rcs each as I have extracted 
 bullets from lolks who are as hale to-day as I am myself." 
 
 "Well then, doctor, tell me the truth. The wountl is 
 mortal, it I know an\thing alioul it." 
 
 The surgeon e.xamined the left arm first, and said, " A 
 trifle!" Then he began to prol)c the other wound, a 
 proceeding which soon forced the jiatient to grin horribly. 
 He had strength enough left to push the doctor's hand 
 away stoutly enough with his ow n right arm. 
 
 "No further, doctor, in God's name and the Devil's!" 
 cried he. " I see by )our face that mv business is done. " 
 
 on
 
 300 CHRONICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Well, sir, you see, I fear much that the bullet has 
 crossed the small hypogastric intestine, and striking up- 
 wards has lodged in the spine, which we otherwise call in 
 Greek, rac/z/s. What makes me think so is that your legs 
 are motionless and cold already — a pathological s\-mptom 
 which rarely deceives. In which case " 
 
 " A gun-shot at point-blank and a ball in the spine ! 
 Plague on it, doctor, that is more than enough to lay one 
 poor devil with his fathers. There, torture me no more, 
 and let me die quietly." 
 
 " No! he shall live ! He will live !" cried Mergy, fixing 
 wild eyes on the surgeon and clutching his arm hard. 
 
 " Yes ; he will live an hour longer — perhaps two, for lie 
 is a strong man," said Master Brisart coolly. 
 
 Mergy fell once more on his knees, seized the captain's 
 right hand, and drenched the gauntlet which covered it, 
 with tears. 
 
 " Two hours!" answered George. " So much the better; 
 I feared I had longer to suffer." 
 
 " No ! it is impossible I" cried Mergy sobbing. " George, 
 \()u nuist not die. A brother cannot die by his brother's 
 hand !" 
 
 " Ihere, there, Bernard, calm yourself, and do not shake 
 me so. I feel every motion ot yours //i-/r. The pain is not 
 too bad for the moment, if only it will last, as the fool 
 said while he was falling from the steeple." 
 
 Mergy sat down by the mattress, his head resting on his 
 knees and his face hidden b}- his hands. He did not move, 
 and seemed stupefied : only now and then convulsive twitches 
 made his whole body shake as though in the shivering fit 
 of a fever, and groans unlike the sound ot a human voice 
 struggled from his breast.
 
 THE HOSPITAL. 301 
 
 As lor the surgeon, after hxintj a bandage or two merely 
 to arrest the bleeding, he wiped his probe with great 
 coolness. 
 
 " I should advise )()u strongly to set your affairs in 
 order," he said. "If you want a minister, there are plenty 
 here, and if you prefer a priest you can have one. I saw a 
 monk just now, whom our people had taken prisoner. See, 
 he is yonder, confessing that Popish officer who lies at the 
 point of death." 
 
 " Give me something to tlrink," said the captain. 
 
 " Do nothing of the kinti," replied the doctor, " or you 
 will die an hour sooner." 
 
 " An hour of life is not worth a glass of wine. Come, 
 good-bye, doctor ; my iriend here at my side is waiting for 
 you impatiently." 
 
 " Then shall I send )'ou a minister or the monk ? " 
 
 " Neither one nor the other." 
 
 " What do you mean ? ' 
 
 " Let me alone." 
 
 The surgeon shrugged his shoulders and turned to 
 Beville. 
 
 " By my beard ! " cried he, " this is a beautilul wound ! 
 These devils of volunteers strike like madmen !" 
 
 " But I shall recover, shall I not ? " asked the wounded 
 man feebly. 
 
 " Draw your breath," said Master Brisart. 
 
 Then they heard a sort of low whisile, produced by 
 the air which left B6ville's lungs by his wound as well 
 as by his mouth, while the blood ran from the opening like 
 crimson froth. The surgeon whistled himself, as if in echo 
 of this strange sound ; and then he hastily bandaged the 
 place, and without a word picked up his instrument-case
 
 302 CIIROXICLRS OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 aiul prcijared to depart. Meanwhile Bcvillc's eyes, glittering' 
 like torches, had followed all his movements. 
 
 " Well, doctor ? " asked he, in trem!)ling tones. 
 
 " i'ack up your traps," said the surgeon coolly, as he 
 turned away. 
 
 "Alas! to die so young!" cried the unhappy Beville, letting 
 his head fall back on the straw which served him as pillow. 
 
 Captain George still asked ior drink ; hut no one would 
 give him so much as a glass ol water, for fear of hastening 
 his end — a singular kind ol humanity, which ser\es only to 
 prolong misery. At this moment La None, attended by 
 Captain Dietrich and several other otiicers, entered the hall 
 to visit the wounded. They all halted before George's 
 mattress ; and La None, leaning on his sword-hilt, looked 
 from one brother to the other with eyes in which all the 
 sympathy with which the sad scene inspired him was depicted. 
 A flask slung at the German soldier's side attracted George's 
 notice. 
 
 " Captain," said he, " you are an old soldier .'' " 
 
 " Yes ; as a soldier I am old enough. The smoke of 
 powder grizzles a man's beard taster than )ears. My name 
 is Captain Dietrich Hornstein." 
 
 " Tell me, then," said George, " what you would do if 
 you had my wound ? " 
 
 Captain Dietrich considered the injuries for a moment, 
 like a man accustomed to the sight and to judge their im- 
 portance. 
 
 " I should put m\- conscience in order," answered he, 
 " and then I should ask for a good glass of Rhenish, if there 
 were a bottle anywhere about." 
 
 " Well, I only ask them for a glass of their wretched 
 Rochelle wine, and the fools will not give it me."
 
 THE HOSPITAL. 303 
 
 Dietrich unslun^" liis tlusk, wliich was of very goodly size, 
 and made as though he would hand it to the wounded man. 
 
 " What are you doing, captain ? " criixl a musketeer. 
 " The doctor says he will die at once if he drinks." 
 
 " What matter ?" replied Dietrich : "he will at least have 
 a little solace before death. Here, brave sir ; I am only 
 sorry not to have better wine to offer you.". 
 
 " You are a gentleman, Captain Dietrich," said George, 
 when he had elrunk. Then handing the flask to his neigh- 
 bour, " Antl you, m\' jioor Fieville, will you do me reason ? ' 
 
 But Beville shook his head and answered not. 
 
 "Ah! ah!" said George, "here comes more torment! 
 \\ hat ! will they never let me die in peace ? " 
 
 He saw a minister coming forward, Bible under arm. 
 
 " My son," said the minister, " when you go ' 
 
 " Enough ! enough ! " answered George. " I know what 
 you would say ; hut it is lost laliour — I am a Catholic." 
 
 "A Catholic !" cried Beville. "Then \-ou are a F"ree- 
 thinker no longer ? " 
 
 '' But once," said the minister, " you were bred in the 
 reformed faith ; and at this solemn and terrible moment, 
 when \ou are about to appear before the supreme Judge of 
 deeds and ot consciences " 
 
 " I am a Catholic ! By the devil's horns ! leave me 
 alone ! " 
 
 " But " 
 
 " Captain Dietrich, ' said George, " will you not take pity 
 on me ? \'ou have done me one great .service ; I beg you 
 do me yet another. See that I am allowed to die without 
 preachments and jeremiads." 
 
 "You had better withdraw," said the captain to the 
 minister. " \'ou see he; is in no mootl to listen to nou."
 
 304 CHROXICLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 La None beckont^d to the monk, who at once approached. 
 
 " Here is a priest of your own religion," said La None to 
 Captain George. " We make no pretensions to force men's 
 consciences." 
 
 " Monk or minister, let them all go to the devil!" answered 
 the wounded man. 
 
 But the two divines stood on each side of his bed, and 
 seemed ready to fight for the dying patient. 
 
 " This gentleman is a Catholic," said the monk. 
 
 " But he was born a Protestant," said the minister; "he 
 belongs to me." 
 
 "He was converted," said the one. 
 
 " But he wishes to die in the faith of his fathers," retorted 
 the other. 
 
 " Confess, my son." , • 
 
 " Repeat your Creed, my son." 
 
 " Do you not die a good Catholic ? " asked the monk. 
 
 " Take away this messenger of Antichrist ! " cried the 
 minister, feeling that the majority of the audience was on 
 his side; and immediately a zealous Huguenot soldier 
 grasped the monk by his girdle, and thrust him back, 
 crying — 
 
 " Hence, shaveling gallows-bird! 'tis long since mass has 
 ceased to be said at Rochelle ! " 
 
 " Hold, there ! " said La None. " It this sjentleman 
 wishes to confess himself, I pledge my word that none shall 
 interfere." 
 
 " V'ery many thanks, M. de la None," said the dying man 
 faintly. 
 
 " You are all witnesses," interrupted the monk, " he wishes 
 to confess ! " 
 
 " No ! mav the devil take me, no ! "
 
 THE HOSPITAL. 305 
 
 " He returns to the faith of his ancestors ! " cried the 
 minister. 
 
 " No ! A thousand thuntlers ! Leave me, both of you ! 
 Am I dead alread\', that llie ravens are quarrelling over my 
 carcass? I will have neither )-our mass nor your psalms." 
 
 " He blasphemes ! " cried in unison the two ministers of 
 the rival faiths. 
 
 " It is well to believe in something," observed Captain 
 Dietrich with unruffled calmness. 
 
 " I believe," said George ; " I believe that )ou are a good 
 fellow who will ileliver me from these harpies. There ! 
 get away with \ou l)oth, and let me die like a dog." 
 
 "Yea! die like a dog! ' said the minister, turning away 
 in a rage. The monk crossed himself, and drew near 
 Beville's couch, while La None and Mergy held the Pro- 
 testant divine back. " Make one more effort ! " said Mergy. 
 " Pity him, pity me ! " 
 
 "Sir," said La None to the dying man, "take an old 
 soldier's word for it, the exhortations of a servant of God 
 can soothe dying hours. Do not hearken to the counsels 
 of a guilty vanity, and do not lose your soul out of idle 
 bravado." 
 
 " Sir," replied the captain, " I have; not thought of death 
 to-day for the first time. I need no one's exhortations to 
 prepare for it. I never loved bravado, and I love it now 
 less than ever. But in the devil's name, I will have nothing 
 to do with their nonsense." The minister shrugged his 
 shoulders, and La Noue sighed. Both departed slowly and 
 with bowed heads. 
 
 " Comrade," said Dietrich, " you must be in the devil's 
 own pain to speak as you do." 
 
 " Yes, captain, I am."
 
 3o6 C//ROX/CLES Of CHARLES IX. 
 
 " Then I hope that the good God will not be offended at 
 your words, though they sound desperatel) like blasphemy. 
 With a gun-shot right through the body, confound it, one 
 may swear a little to keep one's heart up." 
 
 George smiled and took the flask once more. " Your 
 health, captain ! \ov\ are the best nurse a wovmded soldier 
 can have," and as he spoke he held out his hand. Dietrich 
 clasped it, not without certain signs of emotion. " The 
 devil!" he murmured to himself, "suppose my brother 
 Hennig were a Catholic, and I had shot him through the 
 bod)' ! This, then, was what Mila's prophec)' meant." 
 
 " George, my Iriend," said Heville in a piteous tone, 
 " speak to me once! W'e are going to die. "Fis a terrible 
 moment. Are you still minded as you used to be when you 
 converted me to Atheism ? ' 
 
 " Ol course I am. Take courage; in a minute or two our 
 sutierings will be over." 
 
 " lUit this monk tells me of flames — of devils —of all 
 sorts of things. Meseenii all tiiis is not comforting." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 " But suppose it were all true V 
 
 "Captain," said George, "I bequeath to _\ou m)' corslet 
 and m)- sword; and I would I had something better to offer 
 you for the good wine \'ou have gi\en iik.' so kindly." 
 
 "George, ni)' friend," began Heville once more, "it would 
 be terrible it what he says wdxv true .... eternity!" 
 
 " Vou j.)oltroon ! " 
 
 " Yes. it is very easy to say 'poltroon,' but poltrooner) is 
 allowable when it is a case ot suftcring e\erlastingly." 
 
 " Well then, confess yoursell." 
 
 " But- -but — I pray you tell me, are you sure tliere is no 
 hell?"
 
 TJIK nOSI'JTAJ.. 
 
 307 
 
 " Hah ! " 
 
 " Nay, but answer. Arc \oii sure ' C.ive mr- voiir word 
 that th('re is none." 
 
 " I am sure of nothin;;-. If there he a <\v\\\, we shall see 
 whether he is as hlack as the\- paint him." 
 
 " W hat ! \o\\ are not sure .•* " 
 
 " Confess, confess, I tell you." 
 
 " P)Ut vou will lau'i'li at ni(> ?" 
 
 The captain couhl not repress a smik;, but then he saiel 
 in a serious tone, " It I were in your place I should make 
 confession ; tor it is the safest game after all, and once 
 shriven and anointed, one is read\' for anjthing'." 
 
 "Well, I will do as you do. Confess \ourself hrst." 
 
 "Not I." 
 
 " Faith, then, \ou may sa\' uliat )ou like, I will die a good 
 Catholic. Come, father, hear me say my conjitcor, and 
 prom])t me a little, for I have half forgotten it." 
 
 As he confessed himself Captain George drank another 
 sip of wine, stretched his head on his uneas)' pillow, and 
 
 R K
 
 3o8 CHRO.y/CLES OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 shut his eyes, remaining quiet for some quarter of an hour. 
 Then he clenched his lips and shuddered as he gave vent 
 to a long groan, wrenched from him by pain. Mergy, 
 thinking him dying, uttered a cry and lifted his head. But 
 the captain opened his eyes. 
 
 " What, again ?" said he gently, }jushing him back. " Pray, 
 Bernard, be calm." 
 
 " George ! George ! and you are dying b)- my hand !" 
 
 " What then ? I am not the first Frenchman killed by a 
 brother, and I do not think I shall be the last. Besides, I 
 have none but myself to blame. When Monsieur, after 
 delivering me from prison, took me with him, I swore that I 
 would never draw sword. But they told me that this 
 poor fellow Beville was attacked, and when I heard the 
 firing, I took a fancy to see the thing too close." 
 
 He shut his eyes again, but opened them once more to 
 say to Mergy, " Madame de Turgis bade me tell you that 
 she loves you still." And he smiled kindly. 
 
 These were his last words, and he died some quarter of 
 an hour later without seeming to suffer much. In a minute 
 or two Beville expired in the arms of the monk, who after- 
 wards assured his hearers that he had distinctly heard in the 
 air the jojlul cries oi the angels who received the soul of 
 this repentant sinner, while the devils returned a howl of 
 triumph from underground as the)' carried off the spirit of 
 Captain George. 
 
 It may be seen in any history of 1' ranee how La None, 
 sick of civil war, and tormented by his conscience with 
 reproaches for fighting against his King, quitted Rochclle ; 
 how the Catholic army was forced to raise the siege ; and 
 how the fourth peace was soon folhnved by the death of 
 Charles IX.
 
 THE //os/'/ru.. 
 
 309 
 
 But did IMeroy console himself? And did Diane take 
 another lover ? I leave these questions to the decision of 
 the reader, who can thus in every case suit the conclusion of 
 the story to his own taste.
 
 (■HI^^V||■K rKFSSl — C. will 1 1 INi.ll.\M AMI CO., TOOKS lOURT, 
 IMANCKKV lANK, LONDON.
 
 -*t

 
 wmmmmMmm 
 
 Universit 
 
 Southe 
 
 Libra