Part 21 (1/2)
”I have told Monseigneur,” resumed Joseph--for these two ferocious Seyds alternated their discourse like the shepherds of Virgil--”I have told him that it would be well to get rid of this young D'Effiat, and that I would charge myself with the business, if such were his good pleasure.
It would be easy to destroy him in the opinion of the King.”
”It would be safer to make him die of his wound,” answered Laubardemont; ”if his Eminence would have the goodness to command me, I know intimately the a.s.sistant-physician, who cured me of a blow on the forehead, and is now attending to him. He is a prudent man, entirely devoted to Monseigneur the Cardinal-Duke, and whose affairs have been somewhat embarra.s.sed by gambling.”
”I believe,” replied Joseph, with an air of modesty, mingled with a touch of bitterness, ”that if his Excellency proposed to employ any one in this useful project, it should be his accustomed negotiator, who has had some success in the past.”
”I fancy that I could enumerate some signal instances,” answered Laubardemont, ”and very recent ones, of which the difficulty was great.”
”Ah, no doubt,” said the father, with a bow and an air of consideration and politeness, ”your most bold and skilfully executed commission was the trial of Urbain Grandier, the magician. But, with Heaven's a.s.sistance, one may be enabled to do things quite as worthy and bold. It is not without merit, for instance,” added he, dropping his eyes like a young girl, ”to have extirpated vigorously a royal Bourbon branch.”
”It was not very difficult,” answered the magistrate, with bitterness, ”to select a soldier from the guards to kill the Comte de Soissons; but to preside, to judge--”
”And to execute one's self,” interrupted the heated Capuchin, ”is certainly less difficult than to educate a man from infancy in the thought of accomplis.h.i.+ng great things with discretion, and to bear all tortures, if necessary, for the love of heaven, rather than reveal the name of those who have armed him with their justice, or to die courageously upon the body of him that he has struck, as did one who was commissioned by me. He uttered no cry at the blow of the sword of Riquemont, the equerry of the Prince. He died like a saint; he was my pupil.”
”To give orders is somewhat different from running risk one's self.”
”And did I risk nothing at the siege of Roch.e.l.le?”
”Of being drowned in a sewer, no doubt,” said Laubardemont.
”And you,” said Joseph, ”has your danger been that of catching your fingers in instruments of torture? And all this because the Abbess of the Ursulines is your niece.”
”It was a good thing for your brothers of Saint Francis, who held the hammers; but I--I was struck in the forehead by this same Cinq-Mars, who was leading an enraged mult.i.tude.”
”Are you quite sure of that?” cried Joseph, delighted. ”Did he dare to act thus against the commands of the King?” The joy which this discovery gave him made him forget his anger.
”Fools!” exclaimed the Cardinal, suddenly breaking his long silence, and taking from his lips his handkerchief stained with blood. ”I would punish your angry dispute had it not taught me many secrets of infamy on your part. You have exceeded my orders; I commanded no torture, Laubardemont. That is your second fault. You cause me to be hated for nothing; that was useless. But you, Joseph, do not neglect the details of this disturbance in which Cinq-Mars was engaged; it may be of use in the end.”
”I have all the names and descriptions,” said the secret judge, eagerly, bending his tall form and thin, olive-colored visage, wrinkled with a servile smile, down to the armchair.
”It is well! it is well!” said the minister, pus.h.i.+ng him back; ”but that is not the question yet. You, Joseph, be in Paris before this young upstart, who will become a favorite, I am certain. Become his friend; make him of my party or destroy him. Let him serve me or fall. But, above all, send me every day safe persons to give me verbal accounts. I will have no more writing for the future. I am much displeased with you, Joseph. What a miserable courier you chose to send from Cologne! He could not understand me. He saw the King too soon, and here we are still in disgrace in consequence. You have just missed ruining me entirely. Go and observe what is about to be done in Paris. A conspiracy will soon be hatched against me; but it will be the last. I remain here in order to let them all act more freely. Go, both of you, and send me my valet after the lapse of two hours; I wish now to be alone.”
The steps of the two men were still to be heard as Richelieu, with eyes fixed upon the entrance to the tent, pursued them with his irritated glance.
”Wretches!” he exclaimed, when he was alone, ”go and accomplish some more secret work, and afterward I will crush you, in pure instruments of my power. The King will soon succ.u.mb beneath the slow malady which consumes him. I shall then be regent; I shall be King of France myself; I shall no longer have to dread the caprices of his weakness. I will destroy the haughty races of this country. I will be alone above them all. Europe shall tremble.”
Here the blood, which again filled his mouth, obliged him to apply his handkerchief to it once more.
”Ah, what do I say? Unhappy victim that I am! Here am I, death-stricken!
My dissolution is near; my blood flows, and my spirit desires to labor still. Why? For whom? Is it for glory? That is an empty word. Is it for men? I despise them. For whom, then, since I shall die, perhaps, in two or three years? Is it for G.o.d? What a name! I have not walked with Him!
He has seen all--”
Here he let his head fall upon his breast, and his eyes met the great cross of gold which was suspended from his neck. He could not help throwing himself back in his chair; but it followed him. He took it; and considering it with fixed and devouring looks, he said in a low voice:
”Terrible sign! thou followest me! Shall I find thee elsewhere--divinity and suffering? What am I? What have I done?”
For the first time a singular and unknown terror penetrated him. He trembled, at once frozen and scorched by an invincible shudder. He dared not lift his eyes, fearing to meet some terrible vision. He dared not call, fearing to hear the sound of his own voice. He remained profoundly plunged in meditations on eternity, so terrible for him, and he murmured the following kind of prayer:
”Great G.o.d, if Thou hearest me, judge me then, but do not isolate me in judging me! Look upon me, surrounded by the men of my generation; consider the immense work I had undertaken! Was not an enormous lever wanted to bestir those ma.s.ses; and if this lever in falling crushes some useless wretches, am I very culpable? I seem wicked to men; but Thou, Supreme judge, dost thou regard me thus?