Volume Ii Part 13 (1/2)
Catharine de Medici smiled also, but at the same time shook her head.
”I fear I must not give you liberty,” she said, ”for I have promised not: but I have come with no bad intent towards you. I knew your mother, Monsieur de Logeres, and a virtuous and beautiful woman she was. G.o.d help us! it shows that I am growing old, my praising any woman for her virtue. However, she was what I have said, and as unlike myself as possible. Perhaps that was the reason that I liked her, for we like not things that are too near ourselves. However, I have come hither to see her son, and to do him a pleasure. You play upon the lute?” she continued. ”Come, 'tis a long time since I have heard the lute well played. Take up the instrument, and add your voice to it.”
”Alas, madam,” replied the young Count, ”I am but in an ill mood for music. If I sang you a melancholy lay it would find such stirring harmonies in my own heart, that I fear I should drown the song in tears; and if I sang you a gay one, it would be all discord. I would much rather open that door which you have left unlocked behind you, and go out.”
The Queen did not stir in the slightest degree, but gazed upon him attentively with a look of compa.s.sion, answering, ”Alas! poor bird, you would find that your cage has a double door. But come, do as I bid you; sit down there, take up the lute and sing. Let your song be neither gay nor sad! Let it be a song of love. I doubt not that such a youth as you are, will easily find a love ditty in your heart, though the present inspiration be no better than an old woman. Come, Monsieur de Logeres, come: sit down and sing. I am a judge of music, I can tell you.”
With a faint smile the Count did as she bade him; and taking up the lute, he ran his fingers over the chords, thought for a moment or two, and recollecting nothing better suited to the moment, he sang an Italian song of love, in which sometime before he had ventured to shadow forth to Marie de Clairvaut, when she was at Montsoreau, the first feelings of affection that were growing up in his heart. The Queen sat by in the mean time, listening attentively, with her head a little bent forward, and her hand marking the cadences on her knee.
”Beautifully sung, Monsieur de Logeres,” she said at length when he ended. ”Beautifully sung, and as well accompanied. You do not know how much pleasure you have given.--Now, let us talk of other things. Are you sincere, man?”
”I trust so, madam,” replied the Count. ”I believe I have never borne any other character.”
”Who taught you to play so well on the lute?” demanded the Queen abruptly.
”I have had no great instruction, madam,” answered the Count somewhat surprised. ”I taught myself a little in my boyhood. But afterwards my preceptor, the Abbe de Boisguerin, was my chief instructor. He had learned well in Italy.”
”Did he teach you sincerity too?” demanded the Queen with a keen look; ”and did he learn that in Italy?”
The Count was not a little surprised to find Catherine's questions touch so immediately upon the late discoveries he had made of the character of the Abbe de Boisguerin, and he replied with some bitterness, ”He could but teach me, madam, that which he possessed himself. I trust that to my nature and my blood I owe whatever sincerity may be in me. I learned it from none but from G.o.d and my own heart.”
”Then you know him,” said the Queen, reaching the point at once; ”that is sufficient at present on that subject. I know him too. He came to the court of France several years ago, with letters from my fair cousin the Cardinal; but he brought with him nothing that I wanted at that time. He had a wily head, a handsome person, manifold accomplishments, great learning, and services for the highest bidder.
We had too many such things at the court already, so I thought that the sooner he was out of it the better, and looked cold upon him till he went. He understood the matter well, and did not return till he brought something in his hand to barter for favour. However, Monsieur de Logeres, to turn to other matters; I do believe you may be sincere after all. I shall discover in a minute, however. Will you answer me a question or two concerning the Duke of Guise?”
”It depends entirely upon what they are, madam,” replied the Count at once.
”Then you will not answer me every question, even if it were to gain your liberty.”
”Certainly not, madam,” replied the Count.
”Then the Duke has been speaking ill of me,” said Catherine at once, ”otherwise you would not be so fearful.”
”Not so, indeed,” replied the Count, eagerly. ”The Duke never, in my presence, uttered a word against your Majesty.”
”Then will you tell me, as a man of honour,” demanded the Queen, ”exactly, word for word what you have ever heard the Duke say of me?”
Charles of Montsoreau paused and thought for a moment, and then answered, ”I may promise you to do so in safety, madam, for I never heard the Duke speak of you but twice, and then it was in high praise.”
”Indeed!” she replied. ”But still I believe you, for Villequier has been a.s.suring me of the contrary, and, of course, what he says must be false. He cannot help himself, poor man. Now, tell me what the Duke said, Monsieur de Logeres. Perhaps I may be able to repay you some time.”
”I seek for no bribe, your Majesty,” replied the Count smiling; ”and, indeed, the honour and the pleasure of this visit----”
”Nay, nay! You a courtier, young gentleman!” exclaimed the Queen, shaking her finger at him. ”Another such word as that, and you will make me doubt the whole tale.”
”The speech would not have been so courtier-like, madam, if it had been ended,” replied the Count. ”I was going to have said, that the honour and pleasure of this visit, after not having heard for many days, many weeks I believe, the sound of a human voice, or seen any other face but that of one attendant, is full repayment for the little that I have to tell. However, madam, to gratify you with regard to the Duke, the first time that I ever heard him mention you was in the city of Rheims, where a number of persons were collected together, and many violent opinions were expressed, with which I will not offend your ears; your past life was spoken of by some of the gentlemen present----”