CHAPTER IV.
THE EVENING OF THE 24TH OF AUGUST, 1572.
Our readers have not forgotten that in the previous chapter we mentioneda gentleman named De la Mole whom Henry of Navarre was anxiouslyexpecting.
This young gentleman, as the admiral had announced, entered Paris by thegate of Saint Marcel the evening of the 24th of August, 1572; andbestowing a contemptuous glance on the numerous hostelries thatdisplayed their picturesque signs on either side of him, he spurred hissteaming horse on into the heart of the city, and after having crossedthe Place Maubert, Le Petit Pont, the Pont Notre-Dame, and skirted thequays, he stopped at the end of the Rue de Bresec, which we have sincecorrupted into the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, and for the greater convenienceof our readers we will call by its modern name.
The name pleased him, no doubt, for he entered the street, and findingon his left a large sheet-iron plate swinging, creaking on its hinges,with an accompaniment of little bells, he stopped and read these words,"_La Belle Etoile_," written on a scroll beneath the sign, which was amost attractive one for a famished traveller, as it represented a fowlroasting in the midst of a black sky, while a man in a red cloak heldout his hands and his purse toward this new-fangled constellation.
"Here," said the gentleman to himself, "is an inn that promises well,and the landlord must be a most ingenious fellow. I have always heardthat the Rue de l'Arbre Sec was near the Louvre; and, provided that theinterior answers to the exterior, I shall be admirably lodged."
While the newcomer was thus indulging in this monologue another horsemanwho had entered the street at the other end, that is to say, by the RueSaint-Honore, stopped also to admire the sign of _La Belle Etoile_.
The gentleman whom we already know, at least by name, rode a white steedof Spanish lineage and wore a black doublet ornamented with jet; hiscloak was of dark violet velvet; his boots were of black leather, and hehad a sword and poniard with hilts of chased steel.
Now if we pass from his costume to his features we shall conclude thathe was twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. His complexion was dark;his eyes were blue; he had a delicate mustache and brilliant teeth whichseemed to light up his whole face when his exquisitely modelled lipsparted in a sweet and melancholy smile.
The contrast between him and the second traveller was very striking.Beneath his cocked hat escaped a profusion of frizzled hair, red ratherthan brown; beneath this mop of hair sparkled a pair of gray eyes whichat the slightest opposition grew so fierce that they seemed black; afair complexion, thin lips, a tawny mustache, and admirable teethcompleted the description of his face. Taken all in all, with his whiteskin, lofty stature, and broad shoulders, he was indeed a _beaucavalier_ in the ordinary acceptation of the term, and during the lasthour which he had employed in staring up at all the windows, under thepretext of looking for signs, he had attracted the general attention ofwomen, while the men, though they may have felt inclined to laugh at hisscanty cloak, his tight-fitting small-clothes, and his old-fashionedboots, checked their rising mirth with a most cordial _Dieu vous garde_,after they had more attentively studied his face, which every momentassumed a dozen different expressions, but never that good-natured onecharacteristic of a bewildered provincial.
He it was who first addressed the other gentleman who, as I have said,was gazing at the hostelry of _La Belle Etoile_.
"By Heaven! monsieur," said he, with that horrible mountain accent whichwould instantly distinguish a native of Piedmont among a hundredstrangers, "we are close to the Louvre, are we not? At all events, Ithink your choice is the same as mine, and I am highly flattered by it."
"Monsieur," replied the other, with a Provencal accent which rivalledthat of his companion, "I believe this inn is near the Louvre. However,I am still deliberating whether or not I shall have the honor of sharingyour opinion. I am in a quandary."
"You have not yet decided, sir? Nevertheless, the house is attractive.But perhaps, after all, I have been won over to it by your presence. Yetyou will grant that is a pretty painting?"
"Very! and it is for that very reason I mistrust it. Paris, I am told,is full of sharpers, and you may be just as well tricked by a sign as byanything else."
"By Heaven!" replied the Piedmontese, "I don't care a fig for theirtricks; and if the host does not serve me a chicken as well roasted asthe one on his sign, I will put him on the spit, nor will I let him offtill I have done him to a turn. Come, let us go in."
"You have decided me," said the Provencal, laughing; "precede me, Ibeg."
"Oh, sir, on my soul I could not think of it, for I am only your mostobedient servant, the Comte Annibal de Coconnas."
"And I, monsieur, but the Comte Joseph Hyacinthe Boniface de Lerac de laMole, equally at your service."
"Since that is the case, let us go in together, arm in arm."
The result of this conciliatory proposition was that the two young mengot off their horses, threw the bridles to the ostler, linked arms,adjusted their swords, and approached the door of the inn, where thelandlord was standing. But contrary to the custom of men of hisprofession, the worthy proprietor seemed not to notice them, so busy washe talking with a tall, sallow man, wrapped in a drab-colored cloak likean owl buried in his feathers.
The two gentlemen were so near the landlord and his friend in thedrab-colored cloak that Coconnas, indignant that he and his companionshould be treated with such lack of consideration, touched thelandlord's sleeve.
He appeared suddenly to perceive them, and dismissed his friend with an"_Au revoir!_ come soon and let me know the hour appointed."
"Well, _monsieur le drole_," said Coconnas, "do not you see we havebusiness with you?"
"I beg pardon, gentlemen," said the host; "I did not see you."
"Eh, by Heaven! then you ought to have seen us; and now that you do seeus, say, 'Monsieur le Comte,' and not merely 'Monsieur,' if you please."
La Mole stood by, leaving Coconnas, who seemed to have undertaken theaffair, to speak; but by the scowling on his face it was evident that hewas ready to come to his assistance when the moment of action shouldpresent itself.
"Well, what is your pleasure, Monsieur le Comte?" asked the landlord, ina quiet tone.
"Ah, that's better; is it not?" said Coconnas, turning to La Mole, whonodded affirmatively. "Monsieur le Comte and myself, attracted by thesign of your establishment, wish to sup and sleep here to-night."
"Gentlemen," said the host, "I am very sorry, but I have only onechamber, and I am afraid that would not suit you."
"So much the better," said La Mole; "we will go and lodge somewhereelse."
"By no means," said Coconnas, "I shall stay here; my horse is tired. Iwill have the room, since you will not."
"Ah! that is quite different," replied the host, with the same cool toneof impertinence. "If there is only one of you I cannot lodge you at all,then."
"By Heaven!" cried Coconnas, "here's a witty animal! Just now you couldnot lodge us because we were two, and now you have not room for one. Youwill not lodge us at all, then?"
"Since you take this high tone, gentlemen, I will answer you frankly."
"Answer, then; only answer quickly."
"Well, then, I should prefer not to have the honor of lodging you atall."
"For what reason?" asked Coconnas, growing white with rage.
"Because you have no servants, and for one master's room full, I shouldhave two servants' rooms empty; so that, if I let you have the master'sroom, I run the risk of not letting the others."
"Monsieur de la Mole," said Coconnas, "do you not think we ought tomassacre this fellow?"
"Decidedly," said La Mole, preparing himself, together with Coconnas, tolay his whip over the landlord's back.
But the landlord contented himself with retreating a step or two,despite this two-fold demonstration, which was not particularlyreassuring, considering that the two gentlemen appeared so full ofdetermination.
"It is easy to see," said he, in a tone of raillery, "that thesegentle
men are just from the provinces. At Paris it is no longer thefashion to massacre innkeepers who refuse to let them rooms--only greatmen are massacred nowadays and not the common people; and if you makeany disturbance, I will call my neighbors, and you shall be beatenyourselves, and that would be an indignity for two such gentlemen."
"Why! he is laughing at us," cried Coconnas, in a rage.
"Gregoire, my arquebuse," said the host, with the same voice with whichhe would have said, "Give these gentleman a chair."
"_Trippe del papa!_" cried Coconnas, drawing his sword; "warm up,Monsieur de la Mole."
"No, no; for while we warm up, our supper will get cold."
"What, you think"--cried Coconnas.
"That Monsieur de la Belle Etoile is right; only he does not know how totreat his guests, especially when they are gentlemen, for instead ofbrutally saying, 'Gentlemen, I do not want you,' it would have beenbetter if he had said, 'Enter, gentlemen'--at the same time reserving tohimself the right to charge in his bill, master's room, so much;servants' room, so much."
With these words, La Mole gently pushed by the landlord, who was just onthe point of taking his arquebuse, and entered with Coconnas.
"Well," said Coconnas, "I am sorry to sheathe my sword before I haveascertained that it is as sharp as that rascal's larding-needle."
"Patience, my dear friend, patience," said La Mole. "All the inns inParis are full of gentlemen come to attend the King of Navarre'smarriage or attracted by the approaching war with Flanders; we shouldnot find another lodging; besides, perhaps it is the custom at Paris toreceive strangers in this manner."
"By Heaven! how patient you are, Monsieur de la Mole!" mutteredCoconnas, curling his red mustache with rage and hurling the lightningof his eyes on the landlord. "But let the scoundrel take care; for ifhis cooking be bad, if his bed be hard, his wine less than three yearsin bottle, and his waiter be not as pliant as a reed"--
"There! there! my dear gentleman!" said the landlord, whetting his knifeon a strap, "you may make yourself easy; you are in the land ofCocagne."
Then in a low tone he added:
"These are some Huguenots; traitors have grown so insolent since themarriage of their Bearnais with Mademoiselle Margot!"
Then, with a smile that would have made his guests shudder had they seenit:
"How strange it would be if I were just to have two Huguenots come to myhouse, when"--
"Now, then," interrupted Coconnas, pointedly, "are we going to have anysupper?"
"Yes, as soon as you please, monsieur," returned the landlord, softened,no doubt, by the last reflection.
"Well, then, the sooner the better," said Coconnas; and turning to LaMole:
"Pray, Monsieur le Comte, while they are putting our room in order, tellme, do you think Paris seems a gay city?"
"Faith! no," said La Mole. "All the faces I have seen looked scared orforbidding; perhaps the Parisians also are afraid of the storm; see howvery black the sky is, and the air feels heavy."
"Tell me, count, are you not bound for the Louvre?"
"Yes! and you also, Monsieur de Coconnas."
"Well, let us go together."
"It is rather late to go out, is it not?" said La Mole.
"Early or late, I must go; my orders are peremptory--'Come instantly toParis, and report to the Duc de Guise without delay.'"
At the Duc de Guise's name the landlord drew nearer.
"I think the rascal is listening to us," said Coconnas, who, as a trueson of Piedmont, was very truculent, and could not forgive theproprietor of _La Belle Etoile_ his rude reception of them.
"I am listening, gentlemen," replied he, taking off his cap; "but it isto serve you. I heard the great duke's name mentioned, and I cameimmediately. What can I do for you, gentlemen?"
"Aha! that name is magical, since it renders you so polite. Tell me,maitre,--what's your name?"
"Maitre la Huriere," replied the host, bowing.
"Well, Maitre la Huriere, do you think my arm is lighter than the Duc deGuise's, who makes you so civil?"
"No, Monsieur le Comte, but it is not so long," replied La Huriere;"besides," he added, "I must tell you that the great Henry is the idolof us Parisians."
"Which Henry?" asked La Mole.
"It seems to me there is only one," replied the landlord.
"You are mistaken; there is another, whom I desire you do not speak illof, and that is Henry of Navarre; and then there is Henry de Conde, whohas his share of merit."
"I do not know them," said the landlord.
"But I do; and as I am on my way to the King of Navarre, I desire younot to speak slightingly of him before me."
The landlord replied by merely touching his cap, and continued to lavishhis assiduities on Coconnas:
"So monsieur is going to see the great Duc de Guise? Monsieur is a veryfortunate gentleman; he has come, no doubt, for"--
"What?" asked Coconnas.
"For the festivity," replied the host, with a singular smile.
"You should say for the festivities," replied Coconnas; "for Paris, Ihear, runs riot with festivals; at least there is nothing talked aboutbut balls, festivals, and orgies. Does not every one find plenty ofamusement?"
"A moderate amount, but they will have more soon, I hope."
"But the marriage of his majesty the King of Navarre has brought a greatmany people to Paris, has it not?" said La Mole.
"A great many Huguenots--yes," replied La Huriere, but suddenly changinghis tone:
"Pardon me, gentlemen," said he, "perhaps you are of that religion?"
"I," cried Coconnas, "I am as good a Catholic as the pope himself."
La Huriere looked at La Mole, but La Mole did not or would notcomprehend him.
"If you do not know the King of Navarre, Maitre La Huriere," said LaMole, "perhaps you know the admiral. I have heard he has some influenceat court, and as I have letters for him, perhaps you will tell me wherehe lives, if his name does not take the skin off your lips."
"He _did_ live in the Rue de Bethizy down here at the right," repliedthe landlord, with an inward satisfaction he could not conceal.
"He _did_ live?" exclaimed La Mole. "Has he changed his residence?"
"Yes--from this world, perhaps."
"What do you mean?" cried both the gentlemen together, "the admiralremoved from this world?"
"What, Monsieur de Coconnas," pursued the landlord, with a shrewd smile,"are you a friend of the Duc de Guise, and do not know _that_?"
"Know what?"
"That the day before yesterday, as the admiral was passing along theplace Saint Germain l'Auxerrois before the house of the Canon PierrePiles, he was fired at"--
"And killed?" said La Mole.
"No; he had his arm broken and two fingers taken off; but it is hopedthe balls were poisoned."
"How, wretch!" cried La Mole; "hoped?"
"Believed, I mean," said the landlord, winking at Coconnas; "do not takea word too seriously, it was a slip of the tongue."
And Maitre La Huriere, turning his back on La Mole, poked out his tongueat Coconnas in the most insulting way, accompanying this action with ameaning wink.
"Really!" said Coconnas, joyfully.
"Really!" said La Mole, with sorrowful stupefaction.
"It is just as I have the honor of telling you, gentlemen," said thelandlord.
"In that case," said La Mole, "I must go instantly to the Louvre. ShallI find the King of Navarre there?"
"Most likely, since he lives there."
"And I," said Coconnas, "must also go to the Louvre. Shall I find theDuc de Guise there?"
"Most likely; for only a moment ago I saw him pass with two hundredgentlemen."
"Come, then, Monsieur de Coconnas," said La Mole.
"I will follow you, sir," replied Coconnas.
"But your supper, gentlemen!" cried La Huriere.
"Ah," said La Mole, "I shall most likely sup with the King of Navarre."
"And I," said Coconnas, "with
the Duc de Guise."
"And I," said the landlord, after having watched the two gentlemen ontheir way to the Louvre, "I will go and burnish my sallet, put a matchto my arquebuse, and sharpen my partisan, for no one knows what mayhappen."