"Whither are you going, sir?" demanded Charles in a high voice which could be heard all over the ballroom, for all had stopped talking to listen.
"Sire," replied Guise, with excellent restraint, "I am here to serve your gracious Majesty."
"Monsieur," said Charles, with what he thought to be admirable calm, "I have no need of your services, so you may depart."
Henry of Guise bowed low and immediately left the palace.
He knew now that he was in imminent danger, and Catherine felt that it would be as well to prepare potions not only for the dangerous Duke of Guise, seducer of her daughter, but for that little fool who was known as the King of France.
In the hotel which was the stronghold of the family of Guise in Paris there was an immediate conference that night.
The Cardinal of Lorraine was there with his brothers, Louis the Cardinal of Guise, Claud the Duke of Aumale, Francis the Grand Prior, and Rene the Duke of Elbuf. There were also the young Duke"s brothers and sister Charles, Louis and Catherine; his widowed mother would not move from the side of her son, whom she regarded continually with an expression alternating between adoration and fear.
It was rarely that the entire family was a.s.sembled together in this way; but they had come hastily to Paris, summoned thither by the Cardinal of Lorraine, whose spies had informed him that for some time the Queen Mother had marked down Duke Henry as one of her victims.
The Cardinal of Lorraine was speaking. "At any moment now the blow may be struck. Henry, my nephew, if you have ever been in danger, you are in danger now."
"I can protect myself," said Henry.
"You would protect yourself on the field of battle, my boy. You would meet any, I know, in combat, and emerge the victor. But when the serpent slyly coils about you so quietly that you do not know your body is encircled what can you do? Take your sword and strike off its head? Do not think of such a foolish thing! The fangs are inserted, and only in the last agonies of death do you see the slimy snake uncoil itself and quietly slip away."
"You must leave Paris at once," said the frightened d.u.c.h.ess. "My darling, you must take horse and fly to Lorraine. I will come with you. I cannot bear that you should leave my sight."
But Aumale and his brothers shook their heads.
"Flight is no good," said the Grand Prior. "Doubtless she has her creatures in Lorraine."
"What then?" cried the d.u.c.h.ess. "Would you have him stay here?"
The Cardinal of Lorraine straightened his rich robes.
"No. There is one way out of this and one way only. I must have been inspired when I advised my nephew to pay court to Madame de Cleves. The Queen Mother, the crazy King and his brothers are terrified. They are afraid that Margot will marry Henry in spite of them all. That is why they are determined to remove the cause of their fear. We must show them that their fears are groundless. Show them that, and Henry is no more in danger than he ever was, than any of us are continually. It is very simple. Henry must with all speed relinquish his plan to marry the Princess. He must show he is sincere in this by an immediate marriage with the Princess of Cleves."
"That I will not do!" cried Henry. "I have promised to marry Margot, and I stand by my word."
"Very fine and n.o.ble!" said the Cardinal of Lorraine. "But do we want Margot to marry a corpse? You see, my dear family, how very wise I was in selecting the Princess of Cleves. She is worthy to marry into our family. A marriage with Marguerite de Valois would have been more desirable, but there is only one way now to save our beloved Henry, and that is by his immediate marriage to the lady of Cleves."
"It is quite impossible," said Henry. "I prefer to face any danger than do that."
"Nonsense! If you do not, you face certain death."
"I prefer it to dishonour."
"Oh, come, foolish boy. You are too romantic. The family of the Princess of Cleves will agree to this marriage as eagerly as the lady herself. As for our Princess Margot, well, you will no doubt be able to take your pleasure with her after she has forgiven you."
"You do not understand, my uncle, what you suggest. You do not know."
"I have been in love, my boy. I was once young and romantic, even as you are. But love palls; it is like rich fruit, delicious while it is ripe; but it cannot last for ever. But the good of a great and n.o.ble house is the most important thing in the life of its members. My boy, it is not of yourself and your love that you must think now, but of your family"s honour. We must show the Queen Mother and her sons that she cannot destroy members of our house. We know when to take a step backwards; we know when we must adjust our policy; but we will have no more a.s.sa.s.sinations. We must not let them think that when we displease them it is easy to dispose of us."
"I am pledged to the Princess Margot," said the young Duke. "I will take none other."
The Cardinal of Lorraine shrugged his shoulders; the d.u.c.h.ess wept; the Duke"s brothers pleaded with him; his sister implored him to save his life; and his uncles called him a fool.
All night they argued with him; and in the early hours of the morning, the gibes of the Cardinal of Lorraine, the good sense of his family, and most of all the pa.s.sionate tears of his mother, caused the young Duke to give way.
Once he had given his consent, the Cardinal of Lorraine lost no time in presenting himself at the Louvre and asking for an audience with the Queen Mother.
"I have come," said the Cardinal, "to ask your Majesty"s most gracious consent to the marriage of my nephew Henry, Duke of Guise, to Catherine, Princess of Cleves."
Catherine did not allow her expression to change in the smallest degree.
"Well, Monsieur le Cardinal, that seems a very satisfactory match. The House of Cleves, I think, is worthy or as worthy as any could be of the House of Guise and Lorraine. I am sure my son, the King, will have nothing to say against such a match."
"Then I have your consent? He may make his arrangements with the lady?"
"With all speed, Monsieur le Cardinal. With all speed."
The Cardinal bowed low.
Catherine went on: "Let the wedding take place at once. I wish to honour our visiting royalty with as many ceremonies as we can give him. I think that the marriage of the Duke of Guise and the Princess of Cleves should provide us with an excellent occasion for making merry."
"So be it," said the Cardinal.
And Catherine dismissed him.
She was pleased. Ruggieri and Rene were slothful when it came to employing their arts against the great. They could never get rid of the thoughts of torture-chambers; and such thoughts were not conducive to the best work.
And once Henry of Guise was the husband of Catherine of Cleves, this little trouble would be over; and she was the first to admit that one should always take the easiest way out of a difficulty.
The marriage should take place in a few days" time, and all she had to concern herself with now was to make sure that there was no meeting between Margot and Henry of Guise until after the marriage ceremony. That was not difficult. Margot was too sick and wounded to leave her bed just yet. Catherine must warn the girl"s attendants in her own special way of warning that anyone who whispered to Margot that her lover was about to be married would wish they had not been so rash if they lived long enough to make such a wish!
A very satisfactory conclusion to a difficult affair!
Catherine came into her daughter"s apartment and signified that she wished to be left alone with her.
"Margot," she said, "you will make your reappearance today, and you are looking as well as ever after your indisposition; but I am afraid that I have news which will be a shock to you, and I feel that it would be better if you learned it through me than in any other way."
Margot lifted her great dark eyes to her mother"s face and waited in apprehension.
"Monsieur de Guise was married a few days ago."
Margot stared. "But ... that is not possible."
"Quite possible, my daughter."
"But ... who?"
"To your friend ... Catherine ... the Princess of Cleves."
Margot was stunned. It could not be. After everything that had happened between them, after all their protestations! She had trusted Henry completely, and he had said that he would never marry anyone but her.
"My child, this is a shock to you. I know your feelings for this young man indeed, they were most unmaidenly, and they carried you far, I fear, along the road of impropriety. Well, Henry of Guise knows when he must obey the wishes of his family as you know that you must obey yours and so he married the lady. By his attentions to her, I should say that he is not displeased. She is a good-looking young woman and as madly in love with him as ... others have been."
Margot lay still.
"Now, my daughter," said Catherine, "you must not show your feelings or you will have the whole court laughing at you. You have been fooled as far as Monsieur de Guise is concerned. You gave yourself too easily. Now you must show your pride. When you appear to-night, remember that you are a Princess of France. There must be no more retirement, for I have let it be known that you are recovered. See how brave you can be. Show the court that you can snap your fingers at a faithless lover."
When her mother had gone, Margot called her women to her. Was it true, she demanded, that Monsieur de Guise was married? Then why had she not been told?
They hung their heads. They dared not say. Margot stormed at them; she raged; but she did not weep.
She insisted that they dress her with the utmost care; she had grown thin in the last week or so, but she was none the less beautiful for that. Bitterness, anger, bewilderment had given a new wildness to her beauty.
She was gay to-night, and her mother watched her with approval.
Catherine knew and Margot knew that everywhere sly eyes were on her. In the banqueting hall, in the salle du bal, all were hoping for some excitement from the inevitable encounter between the Princess and the Duke.
Margot received his wife calmly; she complimented her on her looks and congratulated her on her marriage. Catherine of Cleves was a little frightened of those wild, glittering black eyes, but at the same time she was so happy to have married the man she had loved for so long that she could not care even if the Princess Margot hated her.
Margot coquetted gaily first with one n.o.ble gentleman and then with another. Those wild, provocative glances, which until now had all been for Henry of Guise, were evenly distributed among the handsomest and most eligible of the n.o.blemen.
They were enchanted by Margot, for Margot was completely sensuous; that overwhelming s.e.x consciousness, that adoration of physical love, that promise of what she and she alone could give were irresistible.
Margot knew that Henry of Guise was watching her; and she was glad of that, since the whole performance was for him. She was desperately trying to put hate where love had been, loathing in the place of longing.
In the dance he came near enough to speak to her.
"Margot, I must talk to you."
She turned her head.
"If you only knew, my love, my darling! If only you would listen to what I have to tell you."
She shrugged her shoulders. "I have no wish to speak to you."
"Margot, darling, give me five minutes alone with you."
"I have no wish to speak to you."
"I will wait in the first of the green alleys. Our old meeting-place ... do you remember?"
"You may wait, for all I care."
But her voice had broken and he could hear the sob in her throat.
"In half an hour," he begged.
She could not trust herself to speak, so she turned her head away and shrugged her shoulders.
"I will wait," he said, "all night if necessary."
"Wait all through to-morrow if you care for such things."
"Margot," he implored; and the sound of her name on his lips was more than she could bear. She moved away from him.
She thought of his waiting. Was he waiting? He had said he would wait. But could she trust him to keep his word? He had said he would marry her, that nothing should stand in the way of their love; and, only a few days after that wonderful night they had spent together, he had married the Princess of Cleves.
She must go to see if he waited. I hate him now, she told herself, and it will be just to see if he really is waiting.
She saw him at once the tall, familiar figure, the handsomest man at the court of France. He came forward with a lover"s eagerness. "Margot, my love, you came. I knew you would."
She would not give him her hands; she was afraid to let him touch her. She knew her own weakness; and her desire, she knew, would be stronger than her pride.
"Well, traitor," she said, "what do you want?"
"To put my arms about you."
"Shame! And you a husband ... of a week, is it?"
"Margot, it had to be."
"I know. You had sworn to marry me, but it had to be Catherine of Cleves. I wish you joy of her that silly, simpering creature! You could have done better than that, Henry."
He had her by the shoulders, but she wrenched herself free at once.
"Cannot you see that I hate you now? Do you not understand that you have insulted me ... humiliated me ... betrayed me!"
"You loved me," he said, "even as I loved you."
"Oh no, Monsieur," she answered bitterly; "far more than that, I would never have been led away. I would have faced death rather."
"Margot, you would have suffered more if I had died. You would not then have had even this pleasure you now enjoy in tormenting me. They planned my death your mother, your brothers. My family were convinced that the only thing I could do was to marry Catherine if I would save myself. Darling, this is not the end for us. You are here. I am here. It is not what we planned, but we can still see each other, renew all that joy we have in each other."
"How dare you?" she cried. "How dare you? Do you forget that I am a Princess of France?"
"I forget everything but that I love you, that I can never know a moment"s happiness without you."
"Then know this also: I hate you. I loathe you and despise you. Never try to speak to me. Never try making your vile suggestions to me again. I have been a fool, but do you not think that I will find others to love me? Do not think that you can desert me, betray me ... and then, when you want me again, that I shall come back like a ... like a dog!"
She turned and ran back to the palace.
That evening she danced more gaily than she ever had before. She laughed and coquetted. Her eyes conveyed many a promise, and she was utterly bewitching; but when she retired to her apartments, and her women had undressed her, she threw herself on to her bed and wept so long and so pa.s.sionately that they were afraid.
At last she fell silent and lay still; and in the morning when her women came to waken her, they found her skin flushed and clammy and her eyes gla.s.sy; she was in a high fever.
Catherine and the King thought that the affair of Margot and Henry of Guise had been settled to their satisfaction; the Cardinal of Lorraine and his family thought they had retreated in time from a highly dangerous situation; Henry of Guise had come out of the affair with acute melancholy which would not subside until the Princess Margot was once more his mistress. But the Princess herself lay ill not caring if she were to die. She tossed and turned in a fever, suffering from that indifference to life which is called a broken heart.
Catherine lay very ill at Metz. She knew that no one expected her to live. She could smile seeing the hope in their faces. There was hardly anyone who would be likely to grieve for her.