Part 23 (1/2)
”Yes, there it is,” answered Laubardemont; ”consider my condition.
My niece would have been totally ruined at her convent had Urbain triumphed; you feel that as well as I do, particularly as she did not quite comprehend us, and acted the child when she was compelled to appear.”
”Is it possible? In full audience! What you tell me indeed makes me feel for you. How painful it must have been!”
”More so than you can imagine. She forgot, in her madness, all that she had been told, committed a thousand blunders in Latin, which we patched up as well as we could; and she even caused an unpleasant scene on the day of the trial, very unpleasant for me and the judges--there were swoons and shrieks. Ah, I swear that I would have scolded her well had I not been forced to quit precipitately that, little town of Loudun.
But, you see, it is natural enough that I am attached to her. She is my nearest relative; for my son has turned out ill, and no one knows what has become of him during the last four years. Poor little Jeanne de Belfiel! I made her a nun, and then abbess, in order to preserve all for that scamp. Had I foreseen his conduct, I should have retained her for the world.”
”She is said to have great beauty,” answered Joseph; ”that is a precious gift for a family. She might have been presented at court, and the King--Ah! ah! Mademoiselle de la Fayette--eh! eh!--Mademoiselle d'Hautefort--you understand; it may be even possible to think of it yet.”
”Ah, that is like you, Monseigneur! for we know that you have been nominated to the cardinalate; how good you are to remember the most devoted of your friends!”
Laubardemont was yet talking to Joseph when they found themselves at the end of the line of the camp, which led to the quarter of the volunteers.
”May G.o.d and his Holy Mother protect you during my absence!” said Joseph, stopping. ”To-morrow I depart for Paris; and as I shall have frequent business with this young Cinq-Mars, I shall first go to see him, and learn news of his wound.”
”Had I been listened to,” said Laubardemont, ”you would not now have had this trouble.”
”Alas, you are right!” answered Joseph, with a profound sigh, and raising his eyes to heaven; ”but the Cardinal is no longer the same man.
He will not take advantage of good ideas; he will ruin us if he goes on thus.”
And, making a low bow to the judge, the Capuchin took the road which he had indicated to him.
Laubardemont followed him for some time with his eyes, and, when he was quite sure of the route which he had taken, he returned, or, rather, ran back to the tent of the minister. ”The Cardinal dismisses him, he tells me; that shows that he is tired of him. I know secrets which will ruin him. I will add that he is gone to pay court to the future favorite.
I will replace this monk in the favor of the minister. The moment is propitious. It is midnight; he will be alone for an hour and a half yet.
Let me run.”
He arrived at the tent of the guards, which was before the pavilion.
”Monseigneur gives audience to some one,” said the captain, hesitating; ”you can not enter.”
”Never mind; you saw me leave an hour ago, and things are pa.s.sing of which I must give an account.”
”Come in, Laubardemont,” cried the minister; ”come in quickly, and alone.”
He entered. The Cardinal, still seated, held the two hands of the nun in one of his, and with the other he imposed silence upon his stupefied agent, who remained motionless, not yet seeing the face of this woman.
She spoke volubly, and the strange things she said contrasted horribly with the sweetness of her voice. Richelieu seemed moved.
”Yes, I will stab him with a knife. It is the knife which the demon Behirith gave me at the inn; but it is the nail of Sisera. It has a handle of ivory, you see; and I have wept much over it. Is it not singular, my good General? I will turn it in the throat of him who killed my friend, as he himself told me to do; and afterward I will burn the body. There is like for like, the punishment which G.o.d permitted to Adam. You have an astonished air, my brave general; but you would be much more so, were I to repeat to you his song--the song which he sang to me again last night, at the hour of the funeral-pyre--you understand?--the hour when it rains, the hour when my hand burns as now.
He said to me: 'They are much deceived, the magistrates, the red judges.
I have eleven demons at my command; and I shall come to see you when the clock strikes, under a canopy of purple velvet, with torches--torches of resin to give us light--' Ah, that is beautiful! Listen, listen to what he sings!”
And she sang to the air of De Profundis.
”Is it not singular, my good General?” said she, when she had finished; ”and I--I answer him every evening.”
”Then he speaks as spirits and prophets speak. He says: 'Woe, woe to him who has shed blood! Are the judges of the earth G.o.ds? No, they are men who grow old and suffer, and yet they dare to say aloud, Let that man die! The penalty of death, the pain of death--who has given to man the right of imposing it on man? Is the number two? One would be an a.s.sa.s.sin, look you! But count well, one, two, three. Behold, they are wise and just, these grave and salaried criminals! O crime, the horror of Heaven! If you looked upon them from above as I look upon them, you would be yet paler than I am. Flesh destroys fles.h.!.+ That which lives by blood sheds blood coldly and without anger, like a G.o.d with power to create!'”
The cries which the unhappy girl uttered, as she rapidly spoke these words, terrified Richelieu and Laubardemont so much that they still remained motionless. The delirium and the fever continued to transport her.