Part 122 (2/2)
”You see, Henriette,” said Marguerite, ”I have kept my word; here he is!”
”Is it, then, to the prayers of Madame la d.u.c.h.esse that I owe this happiness?” asked La Mole.
”To her prayers alone,” replied Marguerite.
Then, turning to La Mole, she continued:
”La Mole, I will allow you not to believe one word of what I say.”
Meanwhile Coconnas pressed his friend to his heart over and over again, walked round him a dozen times, and even held a candelabrum to his face the better to see him; then suddenly turning, he knelt down before Marguerite and kissed the hem of her robe.
”Ah! that is pleasant!” said the d.u.c.h.esse de Nevers. ”I suppose now you will find me bearable.”
”By Heaven!” cried Coconnas, ”I shall find you as adorable as ever; only now I can tell you so with a lighter heart, and were there any number of Poles, Sarmatians, and other hyperborean barbarians present I should make them all admit that you were the queen of beauties.”
”Gently, gently, Coconnas,” said La Mole, ”Madame Marguerite is here!”
”Oh! I cannot help that,” cried Coconnas, with the half-comic air which belonged to him alone, ”I still a.s.sert that Madame Henriette is the queen of beauties and Madame Marguerite is the beauty of queens.”
But whatever he might say or do, the Piedmontese, completely carried away by the joy of having found his dear La Mole, had neither eyes nor ears for any one but him.
”Come, my beautiful queen,” said Madame de Nevers, ”come, let us leave these dear friends to chat awhile alone. They have a thousand things to say to each other which would be interrupted by our conversation. It is hard for us, but it is the only way, I am sure, to make Monsieur Annibal perfectly sane. Do this for me, my queen! since I am foolish enough to love this worthless fellow, as his friend La Mole calls him.”
Marguerite whispered a few words to La Mole, who, anxious as he had been to see his friend, would have been glad had the affection of Coconnas for him been less exacting. Meanwhile Coconnas was endeavoring to bring back a smile and a gentle word to Henriette's lips, a result which was easily attained. Then the two women pa.s.sed into the next room, where supper was awaiting them.
The young men were alone. The first questions Coconnas asked his friend were about that fatal evening which had almost cost him his life. As La Mole proceeded in his story the Piedmontese, who, however, was not easily moved, trembled in every limb.
”But why,” said he, ”instead of running about the country as you have done, and causing me such uneasiness, did you not seek refuge with our master? The duke who had defended you would have hidden you. I should have been near you and my grief, although feigned, would nevertheless have disturbed every simpleton at court.”
”Our master!” said La Mole, in a low voice, ”the Duc d'Alencon?”
”Yes. According to what he told me, I supposed it was to him you owed your life.”
”I owe my life to the King of Navarre,” replied La Mole.
”Oh!” exclaimed Coconnas, ”are you sure?”
”Beyond a doubt.”
”Oh! what a good, kind king! But what part did the Duc d'Alencon play in it all?”
”He held the rope to strangle me.”
”By Heaven!” cried Coconnas, ”are you sure of what you say, La Mole?
What! this pale-faced, pitiful-looking cur strangle my friend! Ah! by Heaven, by to-morrow I will let him know what I think of him.”
”Are you mad?”
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