Part 78 (1/2)
”If I will tell you that I love you, would you be wholly devoted to me?”
”Ah! am I not that already, madame, and more than wholly?”
”Yes, but, G.o.d forgive me, you still doubt!”
”Oh! I am wrong, I am ungrateful, or, rather, as I have told you and repeated to you, I am a fool. But why was Monsieur de Mouy with you this evening? why did I see him this morning with Monsieur le Duc d'Alencon?
Why that cherry-colored cloak, that white plume, that affected imitation of my gait? Ah! madame, it is not you whom I suspect, but your brother.”
”Wretched man!” said Marguerite, ”wretched man to suppose that Duc Francois would push complacency so far as to introduce a wooer to his sister's room! Mad enough to be jealous, and yet not to have guessed! Do you know, La Mole, that the Duc d'Alencon would run you through with his own sword if he knew that you were here, this evening, at my feet, and that instead of sending you away I were saying to you: 'Stay here where you are, La Mole; for I love you, my fine gentleman, do you hear? I love you!' Ah, yes! he would certainly kill you.”
”Great G.o.d!” cried La Mole, starting back and looking at Marguerite in terror, ”is it possible?”
”Everything is possible, my friend, in these times and at this court.
Now, one word; it was not for me that Monsieur de Mouy, in your cloak, his face hidden under your hat, came to the Louvre. It was for Monsieur d'Alencon. But I, thinking it was you, brought him here. He knows our secret, La Mole, and must be carefully managed.”
”I should prefer to kill him,” said La Mole; ”that is shorter and surer.”
”And I, my brave gentleman,” said the queen, ”I prefer him to live, and for you to know everything, for not only is his life useful to us, but it is necessary. Listen and weigh your words well before you answer. Do you love me enough, La Mole, to be glad if I were really to become a queen; that is, queen of a real kingdom?”
”Alas, madame, I love you enough to wish what you wish, even should this desire ruin my whole life!”
”Well, do you want to aid me to realize this desire, which would make you still happier?”
”Oh! I should lose you, madame,” cried La Mole hiding his head in his hands.
”No, on the contrary. Instead of being the first of my servants, you would become the first of my subjects, that is all.”
”Oh! no interest--no ambition, madame--do not sully the feeling I have for you--the devotion, nothing but devotion!”
”n.o.ble nature!” said Marguerite; ”well, yes, I accept your devotion, and I shall find out how to reward it.”
She extended both her hands, and La Mole covered them with kisses.
”Well!” said she.
”Well, yes!” replied La Mole, ”yes, Marguerite, I am beginning to comprehend this vague project already talked of by us Huguenots before the ma.s.sacre of Saint Bartholomew, the scheme for the execution of which I, like many another worthier than myself, was sent to Paris. You covet this actual kingdom of Navarre which is to take the place of an imaginary kingdom. King Henry drives you to it; De Mouy conspires with you, does he not? But the Duc d'Alencon, what is he doing in it all?
Where is there a throne for him? I do not see. Now, is the Duc d'Alencon sufficiently your--friend to aid you in all this without asking anything in exchange for the danger he runs?”
”The duke, my friend, is conspiring on his own account. Let us leave him to his illusions. His life answers for ours.”
”But I, who belong to him, can I betray him?”
”Betray him! In what are you betraying him? What has he confided to you?
Is it not he who has betrayed you by giving your cloak and hat to De Mouy as a means of gaining him admittance to his apartments? You belong to him, you say! Were you not mine, my gentleman, before you were his?
Has he given you a greater proof of friends.h.i.+p than the proof of love you have from me?”