Part 51 (1/2)

”Come, come, sir!” said Catharine, who, in spite of the perfumes with which she was covered, began to be made ill by the odor. ”Come, however agreeable company may be, it must be left at last; let us therefore say good-by to the admiral, and return to Paris.”

She nodded ironically as when one takes leave of a friend, and, taking the head of the column, turned to the road, while the cortege defiled before Coligny's corpse.

The sun was sinking in the horizon.

The throng followed fast on their majesties so as to enjoy to the very end all the splendors of the procession and the details of the spectacle; the thieves followed the populace, so that in ten minutes after the King's departure there was no person about the admiral's mutilated carca.s.s on which now blew the first breezes of the evening.

When we say no person, we err. A gentleman mounted on a black horse, and who, doubtless, could not contemplate at his ease the black mutilated trunk when it was honored by the presence of princes, had remained behind, and was examining, in all their details, the bolts, stone pillars, chains, and in fact the gibbet, which no doubt appeared to him (but lately arrived in Paris, and ignorant of the perfection to which things could be brought in the capital) the paragon of all that man could invent in the way of awful ugliness.

We need hardly inform our friends that this man was M. Annibal de Coconnas.

A woman's practised eye had vainly looked for him in the cavalcade and had searched among the ranks without being able to find him.

Monsieur de Coconnas, as we have said, was standing ecstatically contemplating Enguerrand de Marigny's work.

But this woman was not the only person who was trying to find Monsieur de Coconnas. Another gentleman, noticeable for his white satin doublet and gallant plume, after looking toward the front and on all sides, bethought him to look back, and saw Coconnas's tall figure and the silhouette of his gigantic horse standing out strongly against the sky reddened by the last rays of the setting sun.

Then the gentleman in the white satin doublet turned out from the road taken by the majority of the company, struck into a narrow footpath, and describing a curve rode back toward the gibbet.

Almost at the same time the lady whom we have recognized as the d.u.c.h.esse de Nevers, just as we recognized the tall gentleman on the black horse as Coconnas, rode alongside of Marguerite and said to her:

”We were both mistaken, Marguerite, for the Piedmontese has remained behind and Monsieur de la Mole has gone back to meet him.”

”By Heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, laughing, ”then something is going to happen. Faith, I confess I should not be sorry to revise my opinion about him.”

Marguerite then turned her horse and witnessed the manoeuvre which we have described La Mole as performing.

The two princesses left the procession; the opportunity was most favorable: they were pa.s.sing by a hedge-lined footpath which led up the hill, and in doing so pa.s.sed within thirty yards of the gibbet. Madame de Nevers whispered a word in her captain's ear, Marguerite beckoned to Gillonne, and the four turned into this cross path and went and hid behind the shrubbery nearest to the place where the scene which they evidently expected to witness was to take place. It was about thirty yards, as we have already said, from the spot where Coconnas in a state of ecstasy was gesticulating before the admiral.

Marguerite dismounted, Madame de Nevers and Gillonne did the same; the captain then got down and took the bridles of the four horses. Thick green furnished the three women a seat such as princesses often seek in vain. The glade before them was so open that they would not miss the slightest detail.

La Mole had accomplished his circuit. He rode up slowly and took his stand behind Coconnas; then stretching out his hand tapped him on the shoulder.

The Piedmontese turned round.

”Oh!” said he, ”so it was not a dream! You are still alive!”

”Yes, sir,” replied La Mole; ”yes, I am still alive. It is no fault of yours, but I am still alive.”

”By Heaven! I know you again well enough,” replied Coconnas, ”in spite of your pale face. You were redder than that the last time we met!”

”And I,” said La Mole, ”I also recognize you, in spite of that yellow line across your face. You were paler than that when I made that mark for you!”

Coconnas bit his lips, but, evidently resolved on continuing the conversation in a tone of irony, he said:

”It is curious, is it not, Monsieur de la Mole, particularly for a Huguenot, to be able to look at the admiral suspended from that iron hook? And yet they say there are people extravagant enough to accuse us of killing even small Huguenots, sucklings.”

”Count,” said La Mole, bowing, ”I am no longer a Huguenot; I have the happiness of being a Catholic!”

”Bah!” exclaimed Coconnas, bursting into loud laughter; ”so you are a convert, sir? Oh, that was clever of you!”