Part 4 (1/2)
The mob, at length pacified, drew back, and the party were allowed to leave the town without being again molested.
They pushed on as fast as their horses could go.
”We have had a happy escape,” observed Nigel's companion, ”for although a large portion of the population of Meaux are Protestant, yet the rabble, supported by the troops and some of the government authorities, have the upper hand, and it would have fared ill with us had we been stopped and our object discovered.”
Night had already set in when they reached a hostelry where they were to remain till the morning. As most of the travellers were fatigued, they retired to rest as soon as supper was over, with their saddles as pillows, and their cloaks wrapped round them, lying down in the chief saloon, wherever s.p.a.ce could be found. Nigel, with two or three others, sat up some time longer, when, having got his saddle and cloak, intending to seek repose, he found every place occupied. While hunting about, he entered a small room in which were a couple of truckle bedsteads. Neither was occupied.
”I am in luck,” he said to himself, and placing his saddle and other property by his side, having taken off his riding boots and some of his clothes, he threw himself upon one of the beds which stood in a corner.
Drawing the coverlid over him, he was soon, sailor-like, fast asleep.
After some time, he was awakened by hearing the door open, and, looking up, he saw two persons enter the room. One was Villegagnon, who carried a lamp in his hand; the other was, he saw by the person's costume, an ecclesiastic. They advanced across the room towards the window, where stood a table and a couple of chairs. Villegagnon threw himself into one of them, with his back towards him, the other imitating his example.
The latter produced writing materials, and several papers, which Villegagnon held to the lamp to read.
”You have made a happy commencement of your work, my friend,” said the priest. ”If you carry it out thoroughly, the Church, the Duke of Guise, and the Cardinal of Lorraine will be deeply indebted to you. Twenty Calvinist n.o.bles, and some four score of the commonalty, have, I see, determined to accompany you, and they will entice many more. We shall be glad to be rid of them at present out of France, and we will then send out a larger number of faithful Catholics, so that you will reap the honour of founding a French colony in the New World, the Church will triumph, and the Calvinists be extirpated.”
”But the proceeding smacks somewhat of treachery, and it can matter but little to you at home whether the colony is established by Calvinists or Catholics, so that it is firmly grounded and adds to the honour and glory of France,” observed Villegagnon.
”Nay, nay, my friend,” said the priest, putting his hand on the captain's arm; ”remember that the means sanctifies the end. We can allow no Calvinists to exist, either here or abroad. They would be continually coming back with their pestiferous doctrines, or, finding themselves in the majority, would speedily put an end to our holy Church. They must be extirpated, root and branch.”
”I have no wish to support the Protestants, as thou knowest right well, reverend father,” answered the captain; ”but they are countrymen, and fight well, and labour well, and count among their number the cleverest mechanics in France. I know not how it is, but it seems to me that everywhere the most intelligent men have become Calvinists.”
”Their father Satan gives them wisdom. Take care, captain, that you are not carried away by their doctrines. The true faith will triumph, depend on that,” said the priest, frowning as he spoke.
”Your arguments are conclusive. It will not be my fault if the plan miscarries,” answered Villegagnon. ”I will keep on the mask till I feel myself strong enough to throw it off.”
”You will do well. Do not be in a hurry. We must get as many of these pestiferous sectarians into the net as possible.”
Further conversation of the same character was held between the two worthies for some time. Nigel had found himself most unintentionally acting the part of an eavesdropper. He had at first felt inclined to start up and make the captain and priest aware of his presence; but as the conversation went on he felt that he was justified in thus learning the character of the leader of the expedition, whose evil intentions he hoped he might be the means of counteracting. He determined, therefore, to appear to be fast asleep should they, on quitting the room, discover him.
As he saw them rise, he closed his eyes. He heard their footsteps as they approached the door. Just then the light which Villegagnon carried fell upon him.
”I had no idea that anyone was in the room,” whispered the captain, holding the lamp towards Nigel.
”Who is he?” asked the priest, in a low voice.
”A young pig of a Scotchman, whom the admiral insisted on my taking on board as an officer.”
”Should he have overheard what was said, he might interfere with our proceedings,” observed the priest. ”Your dagger would most speedily settle the question, and prevent mischief.”
”I am not fond of killing sleeping men, holy father,” answered the captain, in a somewhat indignant tone. ”Even had the youth been awake, he is so little acquainted with French that he could not have understood what we were saying; but, you see, he is fast asleep. I, however, will keep an eye upon him, and shall soon learn whether he knows anything.
If he does, we have frequently dark and stormy nights at sea, when men get knocked overboard. Such may be his fate; you understand me.”
”A good idea. I will trust to your discretion,” said the priest, and, greatly to Nigel's relief, they left the room.
He remained awake, considering how he should act. At length he heard some one enter the room; it was the captain, who, just taking a glance at him, threw himself on the bed, and was soon fast asleep.
At early dawn Nigel awoke, and, putting on his garments, went down into the yard to get some water to wash his hands and face. The rest of the party were soon on foot.
The captain met him in the morning with a smiling countenance, and, as he did not even allude to his having shared his room, Nigel thought it better to say nothing about the matter. He looked about for the priest, but he was nowhere to be found, nor did Nigel hear any one allude to him. It was evident that he had come and gone secretly.