A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de MarsacWeyman, Stanley John
History
A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac
Weyman, Stanley John
France -- History -- Henry III, 1574-1589 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
We went out side by side, and having barely a hundred yards to go,
seemed in a moment to be passing through the gate of the Castle. I
noticed that the entrance was very strongly guarded, but an instant’s
reflection served to remind me that this was not surprising after what
had happened at St. Cloud. I remarked to M. la Varenne as we crossed the
courtyard that I supposed Paris had surrendered; but he replied in the
negative so curtly, and with so little consideration, that I forebore to
ask any other questions; and the Chateau being small, we found ourselves
almost at once in a long, narrow corridor, which appeared to serve as
the antechamber.
It was brilliantly lighted and crowded from end to end, and almost from
wall to wall, with a mob of courtiers; whose silence, no less than
their keen and anxious looks, took me by surprise. Here and there two or
three, who had seized upon the embrasure of a window, talked together in
a low tone; or a couple, who thought themselves sufficiently important
to pace the narrow passage between the waiting lines, conversed in
whispers as they walked. But even these were swift to take alarm, and
continually looked askance; while the general company stood at gaze,
starting and looking up eagerly whenever the door swung open or a
newcomer was announced. The strange silence which prevailed reminded me
of nothing so much as of the Court at Blois on the night of the Duke
of Mercoeur’s desertion; but that stillness had brooded over empty
chambers, this gave a peculiar air of strangeness to a room thronged in
every part.
M. la Varenne, who was received by those about the door with silent
politeness, drew me into the recess of a window; whence I was able
to remark, among other things, that the Huguenots present almost
outnumbered the king’s immediate following. Still, among those who were
walking up and down, I noticed M. de Rambouillet, to whom at another
time I should have hastened to pay my respects; with Marshal d’Aumont,
Sancy, and Humieres. Nor had I more than noted the presence of these
before the door of the chamber opened and added to their number Marshal
Biron, who came out leaning on the arm of Crillon. The sight of these
old enemies in combination was sufficient of itself to apprise me that
some serious crisis was at hand; particularly as their progress through
the crowd was watched, I observed, by a hundred curious and attentive
eyes.
They disappeared at last through the outer door, and the assemblage
turned as with one accord to see who came next. But nearly half an hour
elapsed before the Chamber door, which all watched so studiously, again
opened. This time it was to give passage to my late visitor, Turenne,
who came out smiling, and leaning, to my great surprise, on the arm of
M. de Rosny.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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