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Updated: June 17, 2025
I knew little enough of politics, and yet I was not so dull as not to see that great events must happen soon. A crisis had come. I looked at the people I passed who were going about their business so tranquilly. Every one of them must be either Mayenne's man, or Navarre's. Before a week was out these peaceable citizens might be using pikes for tools and exchanging bullets for good mornings.
"Well, however it turns out, it must be gone through with. It is only decent to go to Monsieur. But even at that, I think I should not go if it were not for mademoiselle." "You will beg his aid, monsieur?" "I will beg his advice at least. For how you and I are to carry off mademoiselle under Mayenne's hand well, I confess for the nonce that beats me." "We must do it, monsieur," I cried.
But then, as he said, he had to work in his own way. Mayenne returned, with chilling calm: "You may find me, St. Quentin, less timid than you suppose." "Impossible. Mayenne's courage is unquestioned. I rely not on his timidity, but on his judgment." "You take a great deal upon yourself in supposing that I wanted your death on Tuesday and do not want it on Friday."
He was sustained in his task by that proud princess, his own and Mayenne's mother, by Madame Montpensier, by the resident triumvirate of Spain, Mendoza, Commander Moreo, and John Baptist Tasais, by the cardinal legate Gaetano, and, more than all, by the sixteen chiefs of the wards, those municipal tyrants of the unhappy populace.
I shall go to the duke! I can say who killed Pontou. I know much besides to tell the king. I was Mayenne's cousin, but if he would save his secrets he must give up M. de Mar. Mother of God! I have been his obedient child; I have let him do so with me as he would. I sent my lover away. I consented to the Spanish marriage. But to this I will not submit. He shall not torture and kill Étienne de Mar!"
But at this date, in Mayenne's hands, they spell the men's destruction. Huguet should have known that if I told him to desert me, I meant it." M. Étienne ventured no word, understanding well enough that in such bitter moments no consolation consoles. M. le Duc added after a moment: "Mordieu! I am ashamed of myself. I might be better occupied than in blaming the dead the brave and faithful dead.
Last night, for the first time in a month, I saw my son. He was just returned from an adventure under her window. Mayenne's guard had set on him, and he was escaped by the skin of his teeth. He declared to me that never till he was slain should he cease endeavour to win Mlle. de Montluc. And I? Marry, I ate my words in humblest fashion. After three years I made my surrender.
But then," Vigo went on, "a month or two in a cell won't be a bad thing for him, neither. His head will have a chance to cool. After a dose of Mayenne's purge he may recover of his fever for Mayenne's ward." "Monsieur! You will send to Monsieur?" "Of course. You will go. And Gilles with you to keep you out of mischief." "When? Now?" "No," said Vigo.
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