THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre Dumas

Mouy turned quickly and perceived the Duc d’Alençon enveloped in a cloak, advancing into the corridor with pale face, to make sure that he and De Mouy were entirely alone.

      “Monsieur le Duc d’Alençon,” cried De Mouy, “I am lost!”

      “On the contrary,” murmured the prince, “perhaps you have found what you are looking for, and the proof of this is that I do not want you to kill yourself here as you had an idea of doing just now. Believe me, your blood can in all probability be put to better use than to redden the threshold of the King of Navarre.”

      At these words the duke threw back the door which he had been holding half open.

      “This chamber belongs to two of my gentlemen,” said the duke. “No one will interrupt us here. We can, therefore, talk freely. Come in, monsieur.”

      “I, here, monseigneur!” cried the conspirator in amazement. He entered the room, the door of which the Duc d’Alençon closed behind him no less quickly than the King of Navarre had done.

      De Mouy entered, furious, exasperated, cursing. But by degrees the cold and steady glance of the young Duc François had the same effect on the Huguenot captain as does the enchanted lake which dissipates drunkenness.

      “Monseigneur,” said he, “if I understand correctly, your highness wishes to speak to me.”

      “Yes, Monsieur de Mouy,” replied François. “In spite of your disguise I thought I recognized you, and when you presented arms to my brother Henry, I recognized you perfectly. Well, De Mouy, so you are not pleased with the King of Navarre?”

      “Monseigneur!”

      “Come, come! tell me frankly, unless you distrust me; perhaps I am one of your friends.”

      “You, monseigneur?”

      “Yes, I; so speak.”

      “I do not know what to say to your highness, monseigneur. The matter I had to discuss with the King of Navarre concerned interests which your highness would not comprehend. Moreover,” added De Mouy with a manner which he strove to render indifferent, “they were mere trifles.”

      “Trifles?” said the duke.

      “Yes, monseigneur.”

      “Trifles, for which you felt you would risk your life by coming back to the Louvre, where you know your head is worth its weight in gold. We are not ignorant of the fact that you, as well as the King of Navarre and the Prince de Condé, are one of the leaders of the Huguenots.”

      “If you think that, monseigneur, act towards me as the brother of King Charles and the son of Queen Catharine should act.”

      “Why should you wish me to act in that way, when I have told you that I am a friend of yours? Tell me the truth.”

      “Monseigneur,” said De Mouy, “I swear to you”—

      “Do not swear, monseigneur; the reformed church forbids the taking of oaths, and especially of false oaths.”

      De Mouy frowned.

      “I tell you I know all,” continued the duke.

      De Mouy was still silent.

      “You doubt it?” said the prince with affected persistence. “Well, my dear De Mouy, we shall have to be convinced. Come, now, you shall judge if I am wrong. Did you or did you not propose to my brother-inlaw Henry, in his room just now,” the duke pointed to the chamber of the Béarnais, “your aid and that of your followers to reinstate him in his kingdom of Navarre?”

      De Mouy looked at the duke with a startled gaze.

      “A proposition which he refused with terror.”

      De Mouy was still amazed.

      “Did you then invoke your old friendship, the remembrance of a common religion? Did you even hold out to the King of Navarre a very brilliant hope, a hope so brilliant that he was dazzled by it — the hope of winning the crown of France? Come, tell me; am I well informed? Is that what you came to propose to the Béarnais?”

      “Monseigneur!” cried De Mouy, “this is so true, that I now wonder if I should not tell your royal highness that you have lied! to arouse in this chamber a combat without mercy, and thus to make sure of the extinction of this terrible secret by the death of both of us.”

      “Gently, my brave De Mouy, gently!” said the Duc d’Alençon without changing countenance, or without taking the slightest notice of this terrible threat.

      “The secret will die better with us if we both live than if one of us were to die. Listen to me, and stop pulling at the handle of your sword. For the third time I say that you are with a friend. Now tell me, did not the King of Navarre refuse everything you offered him?”

      “Yes, monseigneur, and I admit it, because my avowal can compromise only myself.”

      “On leaving his room did you not stamp on your hat, and cry out that he was a cowardly prince, and unworthy of being your leader?”

      “That is true, monseigneur, I said that.”

      “Ah! you did? you admit it at last?”

      “Yes.”

      “And this is still your opinion?”

      “More than ever, monseigneur.”

      “Well, am I, Monsieur de Mouy, I, the third son of Henry II., I, a son of France, am I a good enough gentleman to command your soldiers? Come, now; do you think me loyal enough for you to trust my word?”

      “You, monseigneur! you, the leader of the Huguenots!”

      “Why not? This is an epoch of conversions, you know. Henry has turned Catholic; I can turn Protestant.”

      “Yes, no doubt, monseigneur; so I am waiting for you to explain to me”—

      “Nothing is easier; and in two words I can tell you the policy of every one. My brother Charles kills the Huguenots in order to reign more freely. My brother of Anjou lets them be killed because he is to succeed my brother Charles, and because, as you know, my brother Charles is often ill. But with me it is entirely different. I shall never reign — at least in France — as long as I have two elder brothers. The hatred of my mother and of my two brothers more than the law of nature keeps me from the throne. I have no claim to any family affection, any glory, or any kingdom. Yet I have a heart as great as my elder brother’s. Well, De Mouy, I want to look about and with my sword cut a kingdom out of this France they cover with blood. Now this is what I want, De Mouy, listen: I want to be King of Navarre, not by birth but by election. And note well that you have no objection to this system. I am not a usurper, since my brother refuses your offers, and buries himself in his torpor, and pretends aloud that this kingdom of Navarre is only a myth. With Henry of Béarn you have nothing. With me, you have a sword and a name, François d’Alençon, son of France, protector of all his companions or all his accomplices, as you are pleased to call them. Well, what do you say to this offer, Monsieur de Mouy?”

      “I say that it dazzles me, monseigneur.”

      “De Mouy, De Mouy, we shall have many obstacles to overcome. Do not, therefore, from the first be so exacting and so obstinate towards the son of a king and the brother of a king who comes to you.”

      “Monseigneur, the matter would be already settled if my opinion were the only one to be considered, but we have a council, and brilliant as the offer may be, perhaps even on that very account the leaders of the party will not consent to the plan unconditionally.”

      “That is another thing, and your answer comes from an honest heart and a prudent mind. From the way I have just acted, De Mouy, you must have recognized my honesty. Treat me, therefore, on your part as a man who is esteemed, not as a man who is flattered. De Mouy, have I any chance?”

      “On my word, monseigneur, since your highness wants me to give my opinion,