The Greatest Works of Charles Carleton Coffin. Charles Carleton Coffin
Читать онлайн книгу.
of it? Is there a trap behind all the feasting and rejoicing? The king hastens to console the brave old man.
"The assassin shall be summarily dealt with," says Charles.
The wedding was on Sunday, and it is now Friday, There are mysterious movements among the Catholics. The Huguenots begin to be alarmed. What is the meaning of the whispering?
Saturday afternoon comes. the Duke of Guise, Duke de Retz, and others, are in the king's palace in the Louvre conferring together. Catherine comes into the chamber where they are assembled.
"It must be done to-night. The king must be brought up to issue the order. The Huguenots are leaving."
That is the conclusion of the council. Catherine goes into the king's apartment. She is his mother, has taught him to obey her. He is twenty-one years old — weak, irresolute.
"The Huguenots are going to rise against you. They have sent to Germany for ten thousand men, and to Switzerland for ten thousand," she says.
It is a lie; but she can tell a lie quite as easily as she can the truth, when it will serve her purpose.
"You must nip the insurrection in the bud. Coligny is at the bottom of it; you must put him out of the way. If you do not, there will be another civil war."
"I will not have Coligny harmed," Charles replies.
Evening comes. the wax-candles are lighted in the chambers of the palace. Again Catherine enters the king's chamber.
"War is inevitable unless you put Coligny out of the way. Let him be killed, and the rest of the Huguenots will submit."
Charles paces his chamber. He likes the brave old admiral. He has just bidden him a courteous farewell. Shall he turn round and strike him now? In an anteroom is the collector of taxes, Charron, and some of the chief men of Paris, and Count De Tavannes is talking with them in secret.
"You are to put the Huguenot leader, Coligny, out of the way," says De Tavannes.
"We cannot do such a deed."
"Not do it! Then you are not the king's friend. If you do not take hold of it, your own necks will be stretched."
That is not a pleasant thought The king must be in earnest, and they too will be in earnest.
"Ho! ho! That is the way you take it! We swear that we will play our hands so well that St. Bartholomew shall from this moment be remembered," they reply.
The collector of taxes and those with him take their departure. It is past midnight. Paris is in slumber. Not all are asleep, however. The Duke of Guise, the Duke of Guise, Catherine de' Medici, and ruffians, with drawn swords, are awake on this Sunday morning — this Day of St. Bartholomew. At daybreak a bell will toll, and the crushing out of the Huguenots will begin. The Duke of Guise is nervous, and so is Catherine, So many know of what is about to happen, that they fear the Huguenots will hear of it.
Catherine hastens to Charles's chamber once more. He is sitting in a chair, moody, angry, silent. He has acquiesced in the plan till now; but as the hour for its consummation approaches, is irresolute. It will be so mean to have the old admiral, and others who have confided in his word, assassinated. Poor weakling that he is, there is still left a little of his better nature. The education that he has received from his mother — that the end always justifies the means — the school of falsehood in which he has been taught, has not quite obliterated all sense of what is right and honorable.
"Since you will not have the leader of the Huguenots harmed, since you are bent on having war once more, permit me to retire with your brother to a place of safety."
He has always obeyed her. He is a boy, with no mind of his own. He springs to his feet.
"Do it! do it! Kill him! Kill all the Huguenots in Paris, that none may be left to reproach me! Give the orders at once!" He rushes out of the room, and into his own chamber.
"Strike the bell!"
A moment later, and the bell on the church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois begins tolling at half-past one in the morning. The brave old admiral is asleep in his chamber, with his bandaged arm lying upon the counterpane. A Huguenot minister is sitting by his side, and Doctor Ambrose Parr is in a chamber near by.
Boom! boom! boom! The admiral hears the tolling. There is a ti*amping of feet in the street; men are rushing up the stairway of the hotel. The admiral understands it. His hour has come. He springs from the bed and puts on a dressing-gown.
"Say a prayer for me, my friend. I commit my soul to my Saviour." The doctor comes in.
"What is the meaning of this commotion?" asks the doctor.
"God is calling us. I am ready. Please leave me, and save yourselves."
The minister and the doctor seek safety in flight — up-stairs, out upon the roof, reaching another house. The door of the admiral's room bursts open, and ruffians, with spears and swords, rush in.
"Are you the admiral?"
"Young man, I am. You come against a wounded old man. You cannot much shorten my life."
The spear goes into his bosom.
"Oh, if it were only a man! but it is only a horse-boy."
The ruffian beats him over the head. Others enter and plunge their swords into the prostrate form.
"Have you done it?" It is the Duke of Guise calling from the street.
"Yes."
"Throw him down."
The ruffians drag the lifeless body to the window, raise the sash, and throw it out. It falls with a thud upon the ground. The Duke of Guise looks at it. the face is smeared with blood. He wipes it away with a corner of the dressing-gown. "'Tis he, sure enough;" and stamps his heel into the face.
Ah! Duke of Guise, gloating over the form of the noble foe who was ever your equal in the field or in the cabinet, there will come another day. God never forgets!
A soldier severs the head from the body, and takes it to Catherine de' Medici. So the head of John the Baptist was brought to Herod's wife. To whom does Catherine send it? Who of all on earth will be most pleased to receive such a present? Who but the Pope — her uncle! A messenger carries it to Rome, that the Pope may see with his own eyes that the great Huguenot leader is dead.
Bells are tolling in every steeple. Torches glare in the streets. Armed men are rushing frantically from house to house, breaking in doors, rushing into chambers, murdering men and women in their beds, or plunging their swords into their bosoms as they attempt to flee. Muskets are flashing. Charles himself fires upon the panic-stricken fugitives. All through the hours of the summer night the scene of death goes on. Henry Condé and Henry of Navarre are seized and brought before Charles. Catherine does not want them killed. She has other plans.
"I mean to have but one religion in my kingdom. There shall be mass or death. Hake your choice." It is Charles who utters it.
"You have promised liberty of conscience to the Huguenots. I will take time to consider it," is the reply of Henry of Navarre.
"As for me, I shall remain firm in my religion though I give my life for it," Henry Condé replies.
"You rebel — you son of a rebel,