For The Admiral Part 43

"Quite sure. My head will ache for an hour or two, but I shall be all right in the morning. I suppose that bullet was meant for you!"

"There can be little doubt of it. L'Estang must have had good ground for his warning."

"You will have to put an end to this, Edmond."

"As soon as this marriage is over, the Admiral has promised to make another appeal to the king. With Henry to speak a word for me as well, I think Charles will restore my estates. At all events, there is the Spanish war in sight, and Cordel isn't likely to follow me to Flanders."

I spoke lightly, but this second attempt on my life was really a serious matter, showing as it did that my enemy had not abandoned his design.

The next few days, however, were very busy ones, and the course of events gave me little leisure for brooding over my own dangerous position.

The betrothal of the royal pair took place on August 17, at the Louvre, and was followed by a supper and a ball. Then, according to custom, the bride was escorted by the king and queen, the queen-mother, monseigneur, and the leading princes and n.o.bles to the palace of the Bishop of Paris, where she was to spend the night.

The actual ceremony was fixed for the next day, and we at the _Hotel Coligny_ were up betimes. Strangely enough, the uneasy feeling of which I have spoken had increased rather than lessened, though no one could give any reason for this growing apprehension.

Everything was going well; there was no fresh cause for alarm, and yet there was not a man amongst us--unless we except our n.o.ble leader--who did not wish the day well over. He was in the highest of spirits, looking upon the marriage as a public proof that henceforth Charles intended to rule all his subjects with equal justice. Perhaps he did!

The day was gloriously fine, and hours before the time announced for the ceremony the streets were thronged with dense crowds of citizens. On the open s.p.a.ce in front of Notre Dame a gorgeous pavilion, in which the marriage was to be solemnized, had been erected.

Coligny was accompanied by certain of his gentlemen, but most of us were stationed outside the pavilion. The people glared at us scowlingly, and even when the grand procession pa.s.sed on the way to escort Margaret from the palace they remained mute.

Yet for those who enjoy idle shows it was a pretty spectacle. Charles, Henry, and Conde, with some idea perhaps of showing their affection for each other, were all dressed alike, in pale yellow satin, embroidered with silver, and adorned with pearls and precious stones. Anjou, who was even more magnificently attired, had a set of thirty-two pearls in his toque, while the n.o.ble dames were gorgeous in rich brocades, and velvets interwoven with gold and silver.

"If the people had their way," whispered Felix, as the grand cavalcade swept by, "Henry would be going to his funeral instead of to his marriage, and there would be few of us left to mourn him."

From the Bishop's palace to the pavilion stretched a raised covered platform, and presently there was a slight craning of necks, and the citizens showed some faint interest, as the head of the bridal procession appeared in sight.

First came the archbishops and bishops in their copes of cloth of gold; then the cardinals in their scarlet robes, and the Knights of St.

Michael, their b.r.e.a.s.t.s glittering with orders; but not a cheer was raised until young Henry of Guise appeared, when it was easy to tell who was the favourite of the Parisians.

I regarded him with much interest. He was only twenty-two years old; tall and handsome, with a lissom figure and an air of easy grace that became him well. His eyes were keen and bright; he wore a light beard, and a profusion of curly hair. Altogether, he looked a very das.h.i.+ng and accomplished n.o.bleman.

"There she is!" cried Felix suddenly; "do you see her? Could any one look more lovely?"

"She is certainly magnificent."

"Bah!" he interrupted in disgust, "you are looking at Margaret. 'Tis Jeanne I am speaking of--your sister. Edmond, you are more blind than a mole!"

There really was some excuse for his extravagant praise, for even amongst that galaxy of beauty Jeanne shone with a loveliness all her own, and Felix was not the only one of my comrades to declare that she was the most beautiful of all that glittering throng.

But the centre of attraction was Margaret herself, still only a girl of twenty, with a beautifully clear complexion and bright black eyes full of fire and spirit. She was truly a royal bride, gracious, dignified, queenly Magnificent brilliants sparkled in her glossy hair; her stomacher was set with l.u.s.trous pearls; her dress was of cloth of gold, and gold lace fringed her dainty handkerchief and gloves.

"A magnificent creature to look at!" grunted the man next to me, "but I would prefer my wife to be a trifle more womanly."

At length they had all pa.s.sed into the pavilion, and when the ceremony was concluded Henry led his bride into the cathedral, afterwards joining Coligny, Conde, and a few other Huguenot gentlemen, who walked up and down the close, conversing earnestly together.

Leaving the Admiral at the Louvre with a small escort, we returned to the _Hotel Coligny_, discussing the great event of the day. The citizens were slowly dispersing, and as we pa.s.sed some of them muttered violent threats against the Huguenots; others cheered for Henry of Guise, a few raised a cheer for Monseigneur, but I did not hear a word of welcome for the king, or for Henry of Navarre, or for our own n.o.ble leader--the most chivalrous of them all.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Some of them as we pa.s.sed muttered violent threats."]

"Charles hasn't increased his popularity by this marriage!" I remarked.

"No," said one of my comrades, "he has lost ground among the Parisians.

It will frighten him; he will be more afraid of Guise than ever. How the fools roared for the duke! Perhaps they would like him for king! They would find they had their master, for all his smooth speech and courtly manners."

"The people's coldness may do good in one way," remarked Felix. "Charles may rush into a war with Spain, thinking that a brilliant victory or two would win back his popularity."

"The war with Spain will never come about," growled a grizzled veteran, who had fought with Coligny on his earliest battle-field. "Guise, the Pope, Monseigneur, and the Queen-Mother are all against it, and Charles is just a lump of clay in their hands: they can mould him as they please."

"Well," exclaimed Felix, as we entered the courtyard, "in my opinion it's either a Spanish war, or a civil war, and Charles must take his choice."

CHAPTER XXIV

A Mysterious Warning

It was the evening of August 20. The Louvre was brilliantly illuminated; the gardens and the various apartments were crowded with the beauty and n.o.bility of France. Catholics and Huguenots mingled together on the friendliest terms; everything pointed to peace and goodwill. Henry of Navarre and his handsome queen were there, and so were Monseigneur and Henry of Guise.

One could hardly think of danger in the midst of so much mirth and gaiety, and yet, though unseen by us, the shadow of death was hovering very near!

Felix and I had gone to the palace together, but, as he basely deserted me for Jeanne, I was left to wander about alone. I was, however, by no means depressed by my isolation. The lights, the music, the beauty of the ladies, and the handsome uniforms of the men, all filled me with the liveliest pleasure, and two hours rapidly slipped by.

Now and again I exchanged greetings with some cavalier whose acquaintance I had made during my stay in the city, and amongst others I met the Catholic officer who had befriended me on the night of my arrival in Paris.

"This is far better than cutting each other's throats, monsieur," said he, with a wave of his hand. "Your Henry of Navarre has proved a real peacemaker!"

"And the king!" I responded, unwilling to be outdone in generosity. "We must not forget his part in bringing about this happy state of affairs!"

"Nor the n.o.ble Coligny's. I expect the Admiral has had more to do with it than both the others."

Now it was exceedingly pleasant to hear my patron praised in this way by one of his opponents, and I began to think that after all our prospects were less gloomy than the conversation of my comrades would lead one to suppose.

Toward midnight I was crossing the hall in order to speak with Felix and my sister, who were standing with the Countess Guichy and several ladies, when I caught sight of Renaud L'Estang. He had been in attendance upon Monseigneur, but was now at liberty. Turning aside, I went to meet him, intending to thank him for his timely warning.

"Ah, monsieur," said he pleasantly, "I have been looking for you. I have something to say, and one can talk without fear in a crowded room. But do not let people guess by your face that I am saying anything serious.

That lady," and he glanced toward Jeanne, "is, I believe, your sister?"

"Yes," I replied, wondering what he could say which concerned Jeanne.

"Listen," he continued. "I have tried to keep the promise made to you that miserable night in Roch.e.l.le."

"You have more than kept your promise," I interrupted eagerly.

"I have done what I could. It is not much, but enough perhaps to show I am your friend. Now, ask me no questions; I cannot reply to them; but for the love you bear your sister answer what I ask you. Can you make an excuse to leave Paris?"

"And desert my patron?"