Part 24 (1/2)
”I thought, my dear De Thou, that you would not interrogate me further, and that you were willing to repose a blind confidence in me. What evil genius has moved you thus to sound my soul? I am not a stranger to these ideas which possess you. Who told you that I had not conceived them? Who told you that I had not formed the firm resolution of prosecuting them infinitely farther in action than you have put them in words? Love for France, virtuous hatred of the ambition which oppresses and shatters her ancient inst.i.tutions with the axe of the executioner, the firm belief that virtue may be as skilful as crime,--these are my G.o.ds as much as yours. But when you see a man kneeling in a church, do you ask him what saint or what angel protects him and receives his prayer? What matters it to you, provided that he pray at the foot of the altars that you adore--provided that, if called upon, he fall a martyr at the foot of those 'altars? When our forefathers journeyed with naked feet toward the Holy Sepulchre, with pilgrims' staves in their hands, did men inquire the secret vow which led them to the Holy Land? They struck, they died; and men, perhaps G.o.d himself, asked no more. The pious captain who led them never stripped their bodies to see whether the red cross and haircloth concealed any other mysterious symbol; and in heaven, doubtless, they were not judged with any greater rigor for having aided the strength of their resolutions upon earth by some hope permitted to a Christian--some second and secret thought, more human, and nearer the mortal heart.”
De Thou smiled and slightly blushed, lowering his eyes.
”My friend,” he answered, gravely; ”this excitement may be injurious to you. Let us not continue this subject; let us not mingle G.o.d and heaven in our discourse. It is not well; and draw the coverings over your shoulder, for the night is cold. I promise you,” he added, covering his young invalid with a maternal care--”I promise not to offend you again with my counsels.”
”And I,” cried Cinq-Mars, despite the interdiction to speak, ”swear to you by this gold cross you see, and by the Holy Mary, to die rather than renounce the plan that you first traced out! You may one day, perhaps, be forced to pray me to stop; but then it will be too late.”
”Very well!” repeated the counsellor, ”now sleep; if you do not stop, I will go on with you, wherever you lead me.”
And, taking a prayer-book from his pocket, he began to read attentively; in a short time he looked at Cinq-Mars, who was still awake. He made a sign to Grandchamp to put the lamp out of sight of the invalid; but this new care succeeded no better. The latter, with his eyes still open, tossed restlessly on his narrow bed.
”Come, you are not calm,” said De Thou, smiling; ”I will read to you some pious pa.s.sage which will put your mind in repose. Ah, my friend, it is here that true repose is to be found; it is in this consolatory book, for, open it where you will, you will always see, on the one hand, man in the only condition that suits his weakness--prayer, and the uncertainty as to his destiny--and, on the other, G.o.d himself speaking to him of his infirmities! What a glorious and heavenly spectacle! What a sublime bond between heaven and earth! Life, death, and eternity are there; open it at random.”
”Yes!” said Cinq-Mars, rising with a vivacity which had something boyish in it; ”you shall read to me, but let me open the book. You know the old superst.i.tion of our country--when the ma.s.s-book is opened with a sword, the first page on the left contains the destiny of him who reads, and the first person who enters after he has read is powerfully to influence the reader's future fate.”
”What childishness! But be it as you will. Here is your sword; insert the point. Let us see.”
”Let me read myself,” said Cinq-Mars, taking one side of the book. Old Grandchamp gravely advanced his tawny face and his gray hair to the foot of the bed to listen. His master read, stopped at the first phrase, but with a smile, perhaps slightly forced, he went on to the end.
”I. Now it was in the city of Milan that they appeared.
”II. The high-priest said to them, 'Bow down and adore the G.o.ds.'
”III. And the people were silent, looking at their faces, which appeared as the faces of angels.
”IV. But Gervais, taking the hand of Protais, cried, looking to heaven, and filled with the Holy Ghost:
”V. Oh, my brother! I see the Son of man smiling upon us; let me die first.
”VI. For if I see thy blood, I fear I shall shed tears unworthy of the Lord our G.o.d.
”VII. Then Protais answered him in these words:
”VIII. My brother, it is just that I should perish after thee, for I am older, and have more strength to see thee suffer.
”IX. But the senators and people ground their teeth at them.
”X. And the soldiers having struck them, their heads fell together on the same stone.
”XI. Now it was in this same place that the blessed Saint Ambroise found the ashes of the two martyrs which gave sight to the blind.”
”Well,” said Cinq-Mars, looking at his friend when he had finished, ”what do you say to that?”
”G.o.d's will be done! but we should not scrutinize it.”
”Nor put off our designs for a child's play,” said D'Effiat impatiently, and wrapping himself in a cloak which was thrown over him. ”Remember the lines we formerly so frequently quoted, 'Justum et tenacem Propositi viruna'; these iron words are stamped upon my brain. Yes; let the universe crumble around me, its wreck shall carry me away still resolute.”
”Let us not compare the thoughts of man with those of Heaven; and let us be submissive,” said De Thou, gravely.
”Amen!” said old Grandchamp, whose eyes had filled with tears, which he hastily brushed away.