"Ah ca! now they will murder each other in real earnest, if we do not interfere. There has been enough of this. Hola, gentlemen!--hola!" cried Marguerite.
"Let them be! let them be!" said Henriette, who having seen Coconnas at work, hoped in her heart that he would have as easy a victory over La Mole as he had over Mercandon"s son and two nephews.
"Oh, they are really beautiful so!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Look--they seem to breathe fire!"
Indeed, the combat, begun with sarcasms and mutual insults, became silent as soon as the champions had crossed their swords. Each distrusted his own strength, and each, at every quick pa.s.s, was compelled to restrain an expression of pain occasioned by his own wounds. Nevertheless, with eyes fixed and burning, mouth half open, and teeth clenched, La Mole advanced with short and firm steps toward his adversary, who, seeing in him a most skilful swordsman, retreated step by step. They both thus reached the edge of the ditch on the other side of which were the spectators; then, as if his retreat had been only a simple stratagem to draw nearer to his lady, Coconnas took his stand, and as La Mole made his guard a little too wide, he made a thrust with the quickness of lightning and instantly La Mole"s white satin doublet was stained with a spot of blood which kept growing larger.
"Courage!" cried the d.u.c.h.esse de Nevers.
"Ah, poor La Mole!" exclaimed Marguerite, with a cry of distress.
La Mole heard this cry, darted at the queen one of those looks which penetrate the heart even deeper than a sword-point, and taking advantage of a false parade, thrust vigorously at his adversary.
This time the two women uttered two cries which seemed like one. The point of La Mole"s rapier had appeared, all covered with blood, behind Coconnas"s back.
Yet neither fell. Both remained erect, looking at each other with open mouth, and feeling that on the slightest movement they must lose their balance. At last the Piedmontese, more dangerously wounded than his adversary, and feeling his senses forsaking him with his blood, fell on La Mole, grasping him with one hand, while with the other he endeavored to unsheath his poniard.
La Mole roused all his strength, raised his hand, and let fall the pommel of his sword on Coconnas"s forehead. Coconnas, stupefied by the blow, fell, but in his fall drew down his adversary with him, and both rolled into the ditch.
Then Marguerite and the d.u.c.h.esse de Nevers, seeing that, dying as they were, they were still struggling to destroy each other, hastened to them, followed by the captain of the guards; but before they could reach them the combatants" hands unloosened, their eyes closed, and letting go their grasp of their weapons they stiffened in what seemed like their final agony. A wide stream of blood bubbled round them.
"Oh, brave, brave La Mole!" cried Marguerite, unable any longer to repress her admiration. "Ah! pardon me a thousand times for having a moment doubted your courage."
And her eyes filled with tears.
"Alas! alas!" murmured the d.u.c.h.ess, "gallant Annibal. Did you ever see two such intrepid lions, madame?"
And she sobbed aloud.
"Heavens! what ugly thrusts," said the captain, endeavoring to stanch the streams of blood. "Hola! you, there, come here as quickly as you can--here, I say"--
He addressed a man who, seated on a kind of tumbril or cart painted red, appeared in the evening mist singing this old song, which had doubtless been suggested to him by the miracle of the Cemetery of the Innocents:
"_Bel aubespin fleurissant_ _Verdissant,_ _Le long de ce beau rivage,_ _Tu es vetu, jusqu"au bas_ _Des longs bras_ _D"une lambrusche sauvage._
"_Le chantre rossignolet,_ _Nouvelet,_ _Courtisant sa bien-aimee_ _Pour ses amours alleger_ _Vient logerv _Tous les ans sous ta ramee._
"_Or, vis, gentil aubespin_ _Vis sans fin;_ _Vis, sans que jamais tonnerre,_ _Ou la cognee, ou les vents_ _Ou le temps_ _Te puissent ruer par._"...[5]
"Hola! he!" shouted the captain a second time, "come when you are called. Don"t you see that these gentlemen need help?"
The carter, whose repulsive exterior and coa.r.s.e face formed a singular contrast with the sweet and sylvan song we have just quoted, stopped his horse, got out, and bending over the two bodies said:
"These be terrible wounds, sure enough, but I have made worse in my time."
"Who are you, pray?" inquired Marguerite, experiencing, in spite of herself, a certain vague terror which she could not overcome.
"Madame," replied the man, bowing down to the ground, "I am Maitre Caboche, headsman to the provostry of Paris, and I have come to hang up at the gibbet some companions for Monsieur the Admiral."
"Well! and I am the Queen of Navarre," replied Marguerite; "cast your corpses down there, spread in your cart the housings of our horses, and bring these two gentlemen softly behind us to the Louvre."
CHAPTER XVII.
MAiTRE AMBROISE PARe"S CONFReRE.
The tumbril in which Coconnas and La Mole were laid started back toward Paris, following in the shadow the guiding group. It stopped at the Louvre, and the driver was amply rewarded. The wounded men were carried to the Duc d"Alencon"s quarters, and Maitre Ambroise Pare was sent for.
When he arrived, neither of the two men had recovered consciousness.
La Mole was the least hurt of the two. The sword had struck him below the right armpit, but without touching any vital parts. Coconnas was run through the lungs, and the air that escaped from his wound made the flame of a candle waver.
Ambroise Pare would not answer for Coconnas.
Madame de Nevers was in despair. Relying on Coconnas"s strength, courage, and skill, she had prevented Marguerite from interfering with the duel. She would have had Coconnas taken to the Hotel de Guise and gladly bestowed on him a second time the care which she had already lavished on his comfort, but her husband was likely to arrive from Rome at any moment and find fault with the introduction of a strange man in the domestic establishment.
To hide the cause of the wounds, Marguerite had had the two young men brought to her brother"s rooms, where one of them, to be sure, had already been installed, by saying that they were two gentlemen who had been thrown from their horses during the excursion, but the truth was divulged by the captain, who, having witnessed the duel, could not help expressing his admiration, and it was soon known at court that two new _raffines_[6] had burst into sudden fame. Attended by the same surgeon, who divided his attentions between them, the two wounded men pa.s.sed through the different phases of convalescence arising from the greater or less severity of their wounds. La Mole, who was less severely wounded of the two, was the first to recover consciousness. A terrible fever had taken possession of Coconnas and his return to life was attended by all the symptoms of the most horrible delirium.
Though La Mole was confined in the same room with Coconnas, he had not, when he came to himself, seen his companion, or if he saw him, he betrayed no sign that he saw him. Coconnas, on the contrary, as soon as he opened his eyes, fastened them on La Mole with an expression which proved that the blood he had lost had not modified the pa.s.sions of his fiery temperament.
Coconnas thought he was dreaming, and that in this dream he saw the enemy he imagined he had twice slain, only the dream was unduly prolonged. After having observed La Mole laid, like himself, on a couch, and his wounds dressed by the surgeon, he saw him rise up in bed, while he himself was still confined to his by his fever, his weakness, and his pain; he saw him get out of bed, then walk, first leaning on the surgeon"s arm, and then on a cane, and finally without a.s.sistance.
Coconnas, still delirious, viewed these different stages of his companion"s recovery with eyes sometimes dull, at others wandering, but always threatening.
All this presented to the Piedmontese"s fiery spirit a fearful mixture of the fantastic and the real. For him La Mole was dead, wholly dead, having been actually killed twice and not merely once, and yet he recognized this same La Mole"s ghost lying in a bed like his own; then, as we have said, he saw this ghost get up, walk round, and, horrible to relate, come toward his bed. This ghost, whom Coconnas would have wished to avoid, even had it been in the depths of h.e.l.l, came straight to him and stopped beside his pillow, standing there and looking at him; there was in his features a look of gentleness and compa.s.sion which Coconnas took for the expression of h.e.l.lish derision.
There arose in his mind, possibly more wounded than his body, an insatiable thirst of vengeance. He was wholly occupied with one idea, that of procuring some weapon, and with that weapon piercing the body or the ghost of La Mole which so cruelly persecuted him. His clothes, stained with blood, had been placed on a chair by his bed, but afterwards removed, it being thought imprudent to leave them in his sight; but his poniard still remained on the chair, for it was imagined it would be some time before he would want to use it.
Coconnas saw the poniard; three nights while La Mole was slumbering he strove to reach it; three nights his strength failed him, and he fainted. At length, on the fourth night, he clutched it convulsively, and groaning with the pain of the effort, hid the weapon beneath his pillow.
The next day he saw something he had never deemed possible. La Mole"s ghost, which every day seemed to gain strength, while he, occupied with the terrible dream, kept losing his in the eternal weaving of the scheme which was to rid him of it,--La Mole"s ghost, growing more and more energetic, walked thoughtfully up and down the room three or four times, then, after having put on his mantle, buckled on his sword, and put on a broad-brimmed felt hat, opened the door and went out.
Coconnas breathed again. He thought that he was freed from his phantom.
For two or three hours his blood circulated more calmly and coolly in his veins than it had done since the duel. La Mole"s absence for one day would have restored Coconnas to his senses; a week"s absence would perhaps have cured him; unfortunately, La Mole returned at the end of two hours.
This reappearance of La Mole was like a poniard-stab for Coconnas; and although La Mole did not return alone, Coconnas did not give a single look at his companion.
And yet his companion was worth looking at.
He was a man of forty, short, thick-set, and vigorous, with black hair which came to his eyebrows, and a black beard, which, contrary to the fashion of the period, thickly covered the chin; but he seemed one who cared little for the fashion.
He wore a leather jerkin, all covered with brown spots; red hose and leggings, thick shoes coming above the ankle, a cap the same color as his stockings, and a girdle, from which hung a large knife in a leather sheaf, completed his attire.
This singular personage, whose presence in the Louvre seemed so anomalous, threw his brown mantle on a chair and unceremoniously approached Coconnas, whose eyes, as if fascinated, remained fixed upon La Mole, who remained at some distance. He looked at the sick man, and shaking his head, said to La Mole:
"You have waited till it was rather late, my dear gentleman."