Catherine de Médicis, Queen, consort of Henry II, King of France, 1519-1589 -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
to deceit; the refined and delicate love of a Valois was now a mere
quenchless thirst for pleasure. This perverted and misjudged great
man, with all the many facets of a noble soul worn-out,--a king without
power, a generous heart without a friend, dragged hither and thither by
a thousand conflicting intrigues,--presented the melancholy spectacle of
a youth, only twenty-four years old, disillusioned of life, distrusting
everybody and everything, now resolving to risk all, even his life, on
a last effort. For some time past he had fully understood his royal
mission, his power, his resources, and the obstacles which his mother
opposed to the pacification of the kingdom; but alas! this light now
burned in a shattered lantern.
Two men, whom Charles IX. loved sufficiently to protect under
circumstances of great danger,--Jean Chapelain, his physician, whom he
saved from the Saint-Bartholomew, and Ambroise Pare, with whom he went
to dine when Pare’s enemies were accusing him of intending to poison the
king,--had arrived this evening in haste from the provinces, recalled
by the queen-mother. Both were watching their master anxiously. A few
courtiers spoke to them in a low voice; but the men of science made
guarded answers, carefully concealing the fatal verdict which was in
their minds. Every now and then the king would raise his heavy eyelids
and give his mother a furtive look which he tried to conceal from those
about him. Suddenly he sprang up and stood before the fireplace.
“Monsieur de Chiverni,” he said abruptly, “why do you keep the title of
chancellor of Anjou and Poland? Are you in our service, or in that of
our brother?”
“I am all yours, sire,” replied Chiverni, bowing low.
“Then come to me to-morrow; I intend to send you to Spain. Very strange
things are happening at the court of Madrid, gentlemen.”
The king looked at his wife and flung himself back into his chair.
“Strange things are happening everywhere,” said the Marechal de
Tavannes, one of the friends of the king’s youth, in a low voice.
The king rose again and led this companion of his youthful pleasures
apart into the embrasure of the window at the corner of the room,
saying, when they were out of hearing:--
“I want you. Remain here when the others go. I shall know to-night
whether you are for me or against me. Don’t look astonished. I am about
to burst my bonds. My mother is the cause of all the evil about me.
Three months hence I shall be king indeed, or dead. Silence, if you
value your life! You will have my secret, you and Solern and Villeroy
only. If it is betrayed, it will be by one of you three. Don’t keep near
me; go and pay your court to my mother. Tell her I am dying, and that
you don’t regret it, for I am only a poor creature.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account