I admit it, because my avowal can compromise only myself.”
“On leaving his room did you not stamp on your hat, and cry out that he was a cowardly prince, and unworthy of being your leader?”
“That is true, monseigneur, I said that.”
“Ah! you did? you admit it at last?”
“Yes.”
“And this is still your opinion?”
“More than ever, monseigneur.”
“Well, am I, Monsieur de Mouy, I, the third son of Henry II., I, a son of France, am I a good enough gentleman to command your soldiers? Come, now; do you think me loyal enough for you to trust my word?”
“You, monseigneur! you, the leader of the Huguenots!”
“Why not? This is an epoch of conversions, you know. Henry has turned Catholic; I can turn Protestant.”
“Yes, no doubt, monseigneur; so I am waiting for you to explain to me”—
“Nothing is easier; and in two words I can tell you the policy of every one. My brother Charles kills the Huguenots in order to reign more freely. My brother of Anjou lets them be killed because he is to succeed my brother Charles, and because, as you know, my brother Charles is often ill. But with me it is entirely different. I shall never reign — at least in France — as long as I have two elder brothers. The hatred of my mother and of my two brothers more than the law of nature keeps me from the throne. I have no claim to any family affection, any glory, or any kingdom. Yet I have a heart as great as my elder brother’s. Well, De Mouy, I want to look about and with my sword cut a kingdom out of this France they cover with blood. Now this is what I want, De Mouy, listen: I want to be King of Navarre, not by birth but by election. And note well that you have no objection to this system. I am not a usurper, since my brother refuses your offers, and buries himself in his torpor, and pretends aloud that this kingdom of Navarre is only a myth. With Henry of Béarn you have nothing. With me, you have a sword and a name, François d’Alençon, son of France, protector of all his companions or all his accomplices, as you are pleased to call them. Well, what do you say to this offer, Monsieur de Mouy?”
“I say that it dazzles me, monseigneur.”
“De Mouy, De Mouy, we shall have many obstacles to overcome. Do not, therefore, from the first be so exacting and so obstinate towards the son of a king and the brother of a king who comes to you.”
“Monseigneur, the matter would be already settled if my opinion were the only one to be considered, but we have a council, and brilliant as the offer may be, perhaps even on that very account the leaders of the party will not consent to the plan unconditionally.”
“That is another thing, and your answer comes from an honest heart and a prudent mind. From the way I have just acted, De Mouy, you must have recognized my honesty. Treat me, therefore, on your part as a man who is esteemed, not as a man who is flattered. De Mouy, have I any chance?”
“On my word, monseigneur, since your highness wants me to give my opinion, your highness has every chance, since the King of Navarre has refused the offer I have just made him. But I tell you again, monseigneur, I shall have to confer with our leaders.”
“Do so, monsieur,” replied d’Alençon. “But when shall I have an answer?”
De Mouy looked at the prince in silence. Then apparently coming to a decision:
“Monseigneur,” said he, “give me your hand. I must have the hand of a son of France touch mine to make sure that I shall not be betrayed.”
The duke not only extended his hand towards De Mouy, but grasped De Mouy’s and pressed it.
“Now, monseigneur, I am satisfied,” said the young Huguenot. “If we were betrayed I should say that you had nothing to do with it; otherwise, monseigneur, however slightly you might be concerned in the treason, you would be dishonored.”
“Why do you say that to me, De Mouy, before telling me that you will bring me the answer from your leaders?”
“Because, monseigneur, asking me when you would have your answer was the same as asking me where are the leaders, and because if I said to you, ‘This evening,’ you would know that the chiefs were hiding in Paris.” As he uttered these words, with a gesture of mistrust, De Mouy fixed his piercing glance on the false vacillating eyes of the young man.
“Well, well,” said the duke, “you still have doubts, Monsieur de Mouy. But I cannot expect entire confidence from you at first. You will understand me better later. We shall be bound by common interests which will rid you of all suspicion. You say this evening, then, Monsieur de Mouy?”
“Yes, monseigneur, for time presses. Until this evening. But where shall I see you, if you please?”
“At the Louvre, here in this room; does that suit you?”
“Is this occupied?” said De Mouy, glancing at the two beds opposite each other.
“By two of my gentlemen, yes.”
“Monseigneur, it seems to me imprudent to return to the Louvre.”
“Why so?”
“Because if you have recognized me, others also may have as good eyes as your highness, and may recognize me. However, I will return to the Louvre if you will grant me what I am about to ask of you.”
“What is that?”
“A passport.”
“A passport from me found on you would ruin me and would not save you. I can do nothing for you unless in the eyes of the world we are strangers to each other; the slightest relation between us, noticed by my mother or my brother, would cost me my life. You were therefore protected by my interest for myself from the moment I compromised myself with the others, as I am now compromising myself with you. Free in my sphere of action, strong if I am unknown, so long as I myself remain impenetrable, I will guarantee you everything. Do not forget this. Make a fresh appeal to your courage, therefore. Try on my word of honor what you tried without the word of honor of my brother. Come this evening to the Louvre.”
“But how do you wish me to come? I can not venture in these rooms in my present uniform — it is for the vestibules and the courts. My own is still more dangerous, since everyone knows me here, and since it in no way disguises me.”
“Therefore I will look — wait — I think that — yes, here it is.”
The duke had looked around him, and his eyes stopped at La Mole’s clothes, thrown temporarily on the bed; that is, on the magnificent cherry-colored cloak embroidered in gold, of which we have already spoken; on a cap ornamented with a white plume surrounded by a rope of gold and silver marguerites, and finally on a pearl-gray satin and gold doublet.
“Do you see this cloak, this plume, and this doublet?” said the duke; “they belong to Monsieur de la Mole, one of my gentlemen, a fop of the highest type. The cloak was the rage at court, and when he wore it, Monsieur de la Mole was recognized a hundred feet away. I will give you the address of the tailor who made it for him. By paying him double what it is worth, you will have one exactly like it by this evening. You will remember the name of Monsieur de la Mole, will you not?”
