CHAPTER X.

Those were busy days in Paris! So manifold were the intrigues, so frequent the changes, so rapid the events, of that time, that it would have required almost more than mortal strength and activity, in those who played any prominent part amongst the factions of the day, to accomplish the incessant business of every succeeding hour, had not that levity, for which the Parisians have been famous in every age of history, stood them in better stead than philosophy could have done, and taught them to consider the fierce turmoil of party, the eager anxiety of intrigue, and even the appalling scenes of strife and bloodshed in which they lived, rather as playthings and as pageants, than as fearful realities.

No sooner had the conference terminated, of which we have given an outline in the last chapter, than Madame de Montpensier, leaving her brother of Mayenne to break his somewhat bitter jest upon the leader of the lansquenets, hurried from the room; but, ere the conversation which succeeded was over, though it lasted but a very brief space, she reappeared, covered with what was then called a penitent's cloak, and holding her mask in her hand, as if prepared to go forth.

Beckoning Wolfstrom towards her, she spoke with him for a few moments, in an under tone; and then, concluding with, "Well, be as quick as possible, and bring me some certain tidings," she again quitted the apartment, without making Mayenne, who was conversing upon lighter matters with the Duchess de Guise and the Chevalier d'Aumale, a sharer in her plans and purposes.

We shall not follow the progress of her chair through the long, tortuous, busy streets of Paris; nor record how her attendants cleared the way through many a crowd, gathered together round the stall of some great bookseller, or before the stage on which some itinerant friar, like a mountebank of modern times, sold his treasure of relics, or chaplets, or authentic pictures of saints and martyrs, or the still-valued indulgence, which the church of Rome did not fail to grant to those who had money and folly enough to purchase either the right of eating flesh, while others were doomed to fish, or the gratification of any other little carnal inclination, not held amongst irremissible sins. Suffice it that--amidst stinks, and shouts, and bawlings, mingled now and then with the "shrill squeaking of the wry-necked fife," and various savoury odours were wafted from the kitchens in which cooks, and traiteurs, and aubergistes prepared all sorts of viands, from the fat quail, and luscious ortolan, to good stout horse-flesh and delicate cat--the Princess's vehicle bore her on, till wide at her approach flew open the gates of the Dominican convent, in the rue St. Jacques, and, entering the first court, the Duchess set down, under the archway, on the left-hand side.

After whispering a word to the _frere portier_, the errant daughter of the noble house of Guise was led through the long and narrow passages of the building, not to the parlour which usually formed the place of reception by the priors of the convent, but to a small room, which had but one door for entrance, and but one narrow window to admit the needful light. The furniture was as simple as it could be, consisting of five or six long-backed ebony chairs, a table, a crucifix, a missal, and a human skull, not, as usual, nicely cleaned and polished, so as to take away all idea of corruption from the round, smooth, meaningless ball of shining bone, but rough and foul as it came from the earth, with the black dirt sticking in the hollows where once had shone the light of life, and the green mould of the grave spreading faint and sickly over the fleshless chaps.

Standing before the table, with his arms crossed upon his breast, and his dark gleaming eye fixed upon the memento of the tomb, stood a tall pale man, habited in the black robe of a prior of the order of St. Dominick, with the white under-garment of the Dominicans still apparent. He raised his eyes as the Duchess entered, but fixed them again immediately upon the skull; and, ere he proceeded to notice in words the approach of his visitant, he muttered what appeared to be a brief prayer, and bowed towards the cross.

"Welcome, madam!" he said, at length; "I have been eagerly expecting you; for it will not be long ere vespers, and we have much to consider."

"I have been forced to delay," replied the Duchess, "in order to save some of our very best schemes from going wrong. But is not Armandi come? He should have been here an hour ago."

"He is here, though he has not been here so long," replied the Prior. "I made them keep him without till you came; for I love not his neighbourhood."

"I ought to pray your forgiveness, father, for bringing him here at all," said the Duchess; "but, in truth--"

"Make no excuse, lady, make no excuse!" answered the Prior. "We labour for the holy church--we labour for the faith; and there is no weapon put within our reach by God, but we have law and licence to use it against the rank and corrupted enemies of the church militant upon earth. Did not the blessed St. Dominick himself say, 'Let the sword do its work, and let the fire do its work, till the threshing-floor of the house of God be thoroughly purged and purified of the husks and the chaff which pollute it?' Did not he himself lead the way in the extirpation of the heretics of old, till the rivers of Languedoc, from their source even to the ocean, flowed red with the foul blood of the enemies of the faith? And shall we, his poor followers, halt like fastidious girls at any means of pursuing the same great object, of obtaining the same holy end? As I hope to reach the heaven that has long received our sainted founder, if this Armandi can find means of accomplishing our mighty purpose, I will embrace him as a brother, and pronounce with my own lips his absolution from all the many sins of his life, on account of that worthy act in defence of the Catholic faith. Shall I call him in?"

"By all means!" said the Duchess, seating herself near the table: "by all means! let us hear what he has devised."

The Prior of the Dominican, or rather, as it was called in Paris, the Jacobine, convent, proceeded to the door, and made a sign to some one, who, standing at the end of the long passage, seemed to wait his commands; and, after a momentary pause, an inferior brother of the order appeared, introducing the perfumer, habited in the same silks and velvets wherewith we have seen him clothed when visited by Beatrice of Ferrara, about an hour before. With a courtly sliding step, inclined head, and rounded shoulders, Armandi advanced towards the spot where the Duchess was seated; and, after laying his hand upon his breast, and bowing low and reverently, drew back a step beside her chair, as if waiting her commands, with a look of deep humility. The Prior of the Jacobines seated himself at the same time, and looked towards the Duchess, as if unwilling himself to begin the conversation with the worthy coadjutor who had just joined them. Madame de Montpensier, whose acquaintance with Armandi was of no recent date, had not the same delicacy on the subject, but at once began, in the familiar and jocular tone which the light dames of Paris were but too much accustomed to use, towards the smooth minister of evil that stood before her: "Well, pink of perfumers," she said, "let us hear what means your ingenious brain has devised for accomplishing the little object I mentioned to you some days ago."

"Beautiful as excellent, and bright as noble!" replied Armandi, in his sweetest tone; "adorable princess, whose charms the lowest of her slaves may reverently worship, sorry I am to say, that the enterprise which you have been graciously pleased to propose to me, I--luckless I!--am unable to undertake."

The Duchess heard all his rhodomontade upon her charms--although the very broadness of Armandi's flattery savoured somewhat of mockery--with more complaisance than had been evinced towards him by Beatrice of Ferrara; but the Prior listened with impatience to his waste of words, and seemed to hear his concluding declaration with disappointment and indignation.

"How is this?" cried he, "how is this? Surely thou, unscrupulous in everything, affectest no vain qualms in regard to the tyrant at St. Cloud! If thou holdest dear the Catholic faith,"--and the keen eyes of the Prior fixed searching upon the soft smiling countenance of the poisoner--"if thou art not infidel, or atheist, or Huguenot, thou wilt clear away thy many sins, by exercising a trade, hellish in other circumstances, in the only instance where it is not only justifiable and praiseworthy, but where, by the great deliverance of the church, it may merit you hereafter a crown of glory. Or is it, perchance," he added, "that thou fearest because this tyrant is a king, and the son of thy former patroness? I tell thee, that were he thine own brother, as a good Catholic, thou shouldest not hesitate."

Armandi listened to the vehement declamation of the monk with his usual composed air, and half subdued smile, and at the end replied, with every apparent reverence--"No, holy Father Bourgoin; you mistake entirely your humble and devoted servant. I am not so presumptuous as to think, that what such a holy man as you tells me to do can be against either right or religion; and, besides, I would humbly beseech you to give me absolution for anything I might do at your command; so that, being a sincere and devoted Catholic, my conscience would be quite at ease." There was the slightest possible curl on Armandi's lip as he spoke, which in the eyes of the Dominican looked not unlike a sneer; but his manner, as well as his words, was in every other point respectful, and he went on in the same tone:--"Neither is it, reverend father, that the royal object of the ministry which you wish me to practise, has had more than one crown put upon his head, which makes me halt; for I never yet could discover that the holy oil with which he is anointed has the least resemblance to that elixir of life which forbids the approach of death; or that in the golden circlet with which his brows are bound lies any antidote for certain drugs that I possess. Nor am I moved by considering that his most Christian Majesty is the son of my dear and lamented mistress; for, taking into account the troublous world in which we live, and the many difficulties, dangers, and disasters which surround Henry at this moment, truly it would be no uncharitable act to give him a safe and easy passport to another world."

"Then why, why," demanded the Duchess, "why do you hesitate to do so?"

"Sweet lady! it is because I cannot," answered Armandi: "the King's precautions put all my arts at fault. Not a dish is set upon his table, but a portion of it is tasted two hours before; his gloves themselves are made within the circle of the court; his own apothecary prepares the perfumes for his toilet; and the cosmetic mask Which he wears in bed, to keep his countenance from the chill night air, is manufactured by his own royal hands."

Madame de Montpensier and the Prior looked at each other with somewhat sullen and disappointed looks; and Armandi added, "Unless you can get me admitted to his household, I fear my skill can be of no avail."

"We have no such interest with the effeminate tyrant," replied Madame de Montpensier, "and so this scheme is hopeless," she added. "But I fear me, Armandi, that, from some love to this tyrant, or to his minions, your will is less disposed to find the means than the means difficult to be found."

"No, as I live, beautiful princess!" answered the poisoner, with more eagerness than he often displayed. "No, as I live! I had once a daughter, lady, as beautiful as you are; and it was her father's pride that she should be wise and chaste: when one mid-day, in the open streets of Paris, my child was met by the base minion, Saint Maigrin, hot with pride, and vice, and wine. He treated her as if she had been an idle courtesan; and how far he would have carried his brutality, none but the dead can tell, had not a gentleman, whose name I know not, rescued her from his hands: although so hurt and terrified, that, ere long, she died. I called loudly for justice, lady--I called with the voice of a father and a man; but I was heard by this Henry, who has never been a father, and is but half a man. He mocked me openly: but the house of Guise, in revenging their own wrongs, revenged mine; and you may judge whether I would not willingly aid you to remove from the earth one who has cumbered it too long."

"Then you absolutely cannot do it?" demanded the priest.

"I cannot," answered Armandi; "but, if I may say so, reverend father, I think you can."

"Ay, and how so?" asked the Prior, eagerly: "if it rests with me, it is done; for, so help me Heaven! if this right hand could plant a dagger in his heart, I would not pause between the conception and the act: no, not the twinkling of an eye!--no, not the breathing of a prayer! so sure am I that, by so doing, I should better serve the Catholic faith, than had I the eloquence of St. Paul to preach it to the world. How can I do it?"

"Very simply, I think," replied the poisoner. "I have often remarked, standing by the gate of your convent, or kneeling at the shrines at Notre Dame, a dull, heavy-looking man, pale in the face, strong in the body, and having but little meaning in his eye, except that when before some relic, or the image of some favourite saint, a wild and uncertain fire is seen to beam up but for a moment, and go out again as soon. He seems about twenty years of age; and I met him now just going forth as I came hither."

"Oh, yes! I know him well," replied the Prior: "you mean poor Brother Clement; a simple, dull, enthusiastic youth, whose strong animal passions now, most happily for himself, all centre in devotion."

A dark and bitter smile curled the lips of René Armandi as he listened to the Prior's account of the person on whom he himself had fixed as a fit instrument for the foul and bloody schemes that were agitated so tranquilly in their strange conclave. "Yes," he said; "yes, stupid he is; wild, visionary, and enthusiastic, he seems to be; and the same animal passions, which once plunged him in brutal lusts and foul debauchery, may now act as a stimulus to drive home the dagger in the cause of the Catholic faith!"

The gleaming eyes of the Prior fixed sternly upon the countenance of the poisoner while he spoke; and it seemed that no very Christian feelings were excited in the bosom of the monk by the bitter and sneering tone which the Italian employed. The suggestion, however, which his words had implied, rather than expressed, instantly caught his attention, and diverted his mind towards more important matter. "Ha!" he exclaimed; "ha! think you he could be prevailed upon?"

"I have often remarked, reverend father," replied Armandi, who had caught the transitory look of wrath as it had passed over the monk's countenance, and who, being but little disposed to make an enemy of one both powerful and unscrupulous, now spoke in a milder and more deferential tone--"I have often remarked, reverend father, that there are men in whose souls the animal part seems to be so much stronger than the intellectual, that mere appetite drives them on to coarse extremes in everything, however opposite and apparently incompatible. Thus, do we not see," he asked, lowering his tone, as if he suspected that the case he was about to put might be that of his auditor; "do we not see that men, who, in their youth, have given themselves up somewhat too freely to gallantry, and to those fair sins which the church condemns in vain, in after-years wear the bare stones with their bended knees, and tire all the saints in the calendar with penitence and prayer?"

"Thou speakest profanely," said the Prior: "is it not natural and just that men, who have great sins to atone for, should do the deeper penance when their conscience is awakened to repentance? But what if it were even as thou wouldst sneeringly imply? How does this affect our Brother Clement?"

"If I reason wrongly," replied Armandi, "my reasoning affects him not; but if my view is right, it matters much. I doubt, good father, that it is always true repentance which brings the libertine to the altar. My conviction is, that it is but one appetite gone, and another risen up in its place; and amongst such men, had I some good and reasonable cause,--some powerful motive to stir them up to action,--it is amongst such men, I say, that I should seek for one to undertake fearlessly, and execute resolutely, such a deed as that which has been proposed to me: and let me say too," he continued, a natural tendency to sneer at his companions getting the better of the moderation he had assumed; "and let me say, too, that I would seek for one whose reasoning powers, in the nice balance of the brain, would kick the beam when the opposite scale were loaded with animal passion and vagrant imagination. Do you understand me?"

The Prior made no reply; but, starting up from his seat, walked up and down the room with his hands clasped, his head bent, and his lips muttering. In the meanwhile, Madame de Montpensier beckoned Armandi towards her, and held with him a brief conversation in an under tone. His communication with her, however, seemed to be much more free and unrestrained than it had been with the monk; for jest and laughter appeared to take the place of shrewd and somewhat bitter discussion; and, though looks of intelligence and significant gestures made up fully one half of what passed, the lady and the poisoner seemed to understand each other perfectly. Their conversation ended by Madame de Montpensier exclaiming aloud, "Oh, never fear, never fear! To attain that object I will act the angel myself, and go any lengths in that capacity."

"Reverend father," continued the Princess, "this scheme is a hopeful one, easily executed, and involving no great risk."

The Prior paused, and turned to listen to the Duchess, who knew much better how to treat him than Armandi. "What is the scheme, lady?" he demanded: "as yet I have heard of none, except vague hints regarding a brother of the order, mingled with sneers at religion and religious men, which, in better days, would have had their reward."

"No, no, good father," replied the Duchess; "poor Armandi means no evil. Answer me one or two questions: think you not that Henry,--the excommunicated tyrant, the sacrilegious murderer of one of the prelates of the holy church, the friend of heretics, who is at this moment doing all that he can to spread heresy and destroy the Catholic faith in France;--think you not that he is without the pale of law, and that any means are justifiable to stop him in his damnable course, and save the holy church and the Catholic population in this country?"

"Not only do I think so," replied the Prior, vehemently, "but I think that he who does stop him in his course will gain a crown of glory, and would obtain, should death befall him in the act, the still more glorious crown of martyrdom."

"That is enough, that is enough!" replied the Duchess; "I will explain to you the whole scheme when we are alone. You, Armandi, go and prepare everything that you spoke of,--the rose-coloured fire, and the dress, and the wings, and come to me to-night, that we may arrange all the rest."

With profound and repeated bows, the perfumer was in the act of taking his departure from the apartment where this iniquitous conference had taken place, when three soft taps on the door arrested his progress, and the next moment the same monk who had ushered him thither on the arrival of the Duchess, announced that a noble gentleman without craved to speak with Madame de Montpensier, according to her own appointment.

"Give him admittance, father! give him admittance!" cried the Princess; "it is our faithful friend Wolfstrom, who brings me news of other feats accomplished in the same good cause that occupies us here."

The order for his admission was immediately given by the Prior; and as Armandi passed out, the leader of the lansquenets entered, exchanging glances of recognition with the poisoner, the circle of whose acquaintances had extended itself, by one means or another, to almost every one possessing any degree of rank, wealth, or influence in Paris.

"Well, lady!" said the soldier of fortune, after a formal bow to the Prior, "the stag is safely housed, and we wait but your commands to follow up the sport."

"But have you learned any particulars of his mind and character?" demanded the Duchess, eagerly; "have you discovered which way we best may lead or drive him to the point? Remember, our time is but short, and much remains to be done in those brief three days."

"Good faith! there seems but little to be learned, lady," replied the soldier. "As I promised, I took care that he should have companionship with none but those who would take up every light word, to let us see into the dark nooks of his heart, and report all truly that they learned; but, by the Lord! it seems that there are no dark nooks to be found out! All is open and clear--he seems simple as the day, religious in the true Catholic faith, sir Prior, bold and calm, but having little to take hold of, if it be not his devotion."

"Of whom speak you?" demanded the Prior, while Madame de Montpensier fixed her fine dark eyes thoughtfully on the ground; "is it of the young St. Real, of whom our noble lady here spoke some days since?"

Albert of Wolfstrom nodded; and the Prior also fell into a fit of meditation, seeming to revolve, like the Duchess, the means of dealing with one of those characters, whose right simplicity of nature renders them much more difficult to manage than even the wily, the worldly, and the shrewd.

"We must think of this matter, Sir Albert," said the priest, "we must think of this matter. Is he in safety at your house, do you think?"

"Why, by my honour, that is doubtful," answered the German. "My lansquenets have active duty to perform; people are coming in and out at all hours; and I never know when his Highness the lieutenant-general himself may not make his appearance there."

"That will never do!" said the Duchess; "that will never do--we must send him to the Bastile. Mayenne will never venture there; for he knows very well that within those walls he would meet many a sight which his fine notions of honour and justice would compel him to inquire into, to the mortification of his policy, and the destruction of his prospects. We must have him to the Bastille."

"Your pardon there, madame," said the soldier, somewhat uncourteously; "my prisoner goes not to the Bastille, wherever he goes! That foul burgher demagogue Bussy le Clerc shall hold at his good pleasure no prisoner of mine."

Madame de Montpensier's dark eye flashed, and her cheek reddened as she listened to the bold tone of the mercenary leader; but all the tangled and complicated political intrigues in which his services were necessary, and perhaps some more private considerations also, rendered her unwilling to break with one whose faith and integrity were somewhat more than doubtful. She smothered her anger, therefore, and, after a few moments' thought, replied, "I have it, I have it! He shall be brought here. You say, Sir Albert of Wolfstrom, that, notwithstanding the intimacy of his father with the Huguenots, he seems to hold fast by the Catholic faith. You, reverend father, shall try your oratory upon him; and, if possible, we must make him benefit by all that we do to lead on Brother Clement to the point we desire. You object not to this plan; do you, Sir Albert?"

"It is more hopeful than the Bastile," replied the soldier; "and I will bring him here with all my heart: but yet," he continued, with a doubtful shake of the head: "but yet--though I cannot tell why--but yet I have some fears that you will not find this young roebuck so easy to manage as you imagine. There is something about him, I don't know what, that makes me doubt the result."

"Oh! but we have means that you know not of," replied the Duchess, "which, if he be in faith and truth a son of the holy church, must bring him over to the Union for her defence."

"Well, well, I will bring him here," said the mercenary leader; "and you, fair lady and reverend father, must do the rest."

"Away, then, quick! and you will find me here at your return," replied the Duchess; "but take care that you meet not with Mayenne by the way, for he will set him free to a certainty; and then all that we have done will only tend to drive him over to the other party, instead of gaining a powerful adherent for the League."

"No fear, no fear!" replied Wolfstrom. "The distance is but a hundred yards; and I will post scouts at the end of the street before we set out." So saying, the leader of the lansquenets took his departure, leaving Madame de Montpensier with the Prior of the Jacobine convent, with whom an eager and interesting conversation instantly took place, the consequences of which we may have to detail hereafter.