"Ah! I see what it is," cried the queen, "Fosseuse, the paragon, is near her accouchement."
"I do not say so, ma mie; it is you who affirm it."
"It is so, monsieur; your insinuating tone, your false humility, prove it to me. But there are sacrifices that no man should ask of his wife.
Take care of Fosseuse yourself, sire; it is your business, and let the trouble fall on the guilty, not on the innocent."
"The guilty! Ah! that makes me think of the letter again."
"How so?"
"Guilty is "nocens," is it not?"
"Yes."
"Well, there was that word in the letter--"Margota c.u.m Turennio, ambo nocentes, conveniunt in castello nomine Loignac." Mon Dieu! how I regret that my knowledge is not as great as my memory is good."
"Ambo nocentes," repeated Marguerite, in a low voice, and turning very pale, "he understood it all."
"Margota c.u.m Turennio, ambo nocentes," repeated Henri. "What the devil could my brother mean by "ambo!" Ventre St. Gris, ma mie, it is astonishing that you who know Latin so well have not yet explained it to me. Ah! pardieu! there is "Turennius" walking under your windows, and looking up as if he expected you. I will call to him to come up; he is very learned, and he will explain it to me."
"Sire, sire, be superior to all the calumniators of France."
"Oh! ma mie, it seems to me that people are not more indulgent in Navarre than in France; you, yourself, were very severe about poor Fosseuse just now."
"I severe?"
"Yes; and yet we ought to be indulgent here, we lead such a happy life, you with your b.a.l.l.s, and I with my chase."
"Yes, yes, sire; you are right; let us be indulgent."
"Oh! I was sure of your heart, ma mie."
"You know me well, sire."
"Yes. Then you will go and see Fosseuse?"
"Yes, sire."
"And separate her from the others?"
"Yes, sire."
"And send her your doctor?"
"Yes, sire."
"And if, unluckily, what you say were true, and she had been weak, for women are frail--"
"Well, sire, I am a woman, and know the indulgence due to my s.e.x."
"All! you know all things, ma mie; you are in truth a model of perfection, and I kiss your hands."
"But believe, sire, that it is for the love of you alone that I make this sacrifice."
"Oh! yes, ma mie, I know you well, madame, and my brother of France also, he who speaks so well of you in this letter, and adds, "Fiat sanum exemplum statim, atque res certior eveniet." Doubtless, ma mie, it is you who give this good example."
And Henri kissed the cold hand of Marguerite. Then, turning on the threshold of the door, he said:
"Say everything kind from me to Fosseuse, and do for her as you have promised me. I set off for the chase; perhaps I shall not see you till my return, perhaps never--these wolves are wicked beasts. Come, and let me embrace you, ma mie."
Then he embraced Marguerite, almost affectionately, and went out, leaving her stupefied with all she had heard.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE SPANISH AMBa.s.sADOR.
The king rejoined Chicot, who was still agitated with fears as to the explanation.
"Well, Chicot," said Henri, "do you know what the queen says?"
"No."
"She pretends that your cursed Latin will disturb our peace."
"Oh! sire, forget it, and all will be at an end. It is not with a piece of spoken Latin as though it were written; the wind carries away the one, fire cannot sometimes destroy the other."
"I! I think of it no more."
"That is right."
"I have something else to do."
"Your majesty prefers amusing yourself."
"Oh! mon cher, here we do everything openly; love, war, and politics."
"The first more than the two last; do you not, sire?"
"Ma foi! yes; I confess it, my dear friend. This country is so fine, and its women so beautiful."
"Oh! sire, you forget the queen; can the Navarrese women be more pleasing and beautiful than she is? If they are, I compliment them."
"Ventre St. Gris, you are right, Chicot; and I, who forgot that you are an amba.s.sador, and represent King Henri III., and that he is the brother of Marguerite, and that consequently, before you, I ought to place her before every one--but you must excuse my imprudence, I am not accustomed to amba.s.sadors."