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Updated: June 12, 2025
Astonishment, fear, hope, triumph, the lean pale face reflected all in turn; and, underlying all, a subtle malignant mischief, as if a devil's eyes peeped through the holes in an opera mask. When the other was at last silent, Pezelay drew a deep breath. "'Tis bold! Bold! Bold!" he muttered. "But have you thought? He who bears the " "Brunt?" the other whispered, with a chuckle. "He may suffer?
Clear, carrying with him the memory of one face seen an instant amid the crowd, one face seen, to be ever remembered the face of Father Pezelay, white, evil, scarred, distorted by wicked triumph. Behind him, the thunder of "Sacrilege! Sacrilege!" rose to Heaven, and men were gathering.
The priest for a priest it was, Father Pezelay, the same who had addressed the mob held up a warning hand. "Halt!" he cried, with burning eyes. "Halt, my lord! It is written, thou shalt not spare the Canaanitish woman. 'Tis not to spare the King has given command and a sword, but to kill! 'Tis not to harbour, but to smite! To smite!"
Father Pezelay answered with unction. "But his Majesty's will is to do to do for the glory of God and the saints and His Holy Church! How? Is that which was lawful at Saumur unlawful here? Is that which was lawful at Tours unlawful here? Is that which the King did in Paris to the utter extermination of the unbelieving and the purging of that Sacred City against his will here?
You'd beard the King, would you?" he hiccoughed truculently, his eyes on Father Pezelay, his hand on his sword. "Were you a priest ten times " "Silence!" Charles cried, almost foaming with rage at this fresh interruption. "It's not he, fool! 'Tis your pestilent brother." "Who touches my brother touches Tavannes!" the Marshal answered with a menacing gesture.
"It is three hundred yards from the Place Ste.-Croix and he must go guarded," the Cure of St.-Benoist continued in the same dull fashion. "He cannot leave many in the house with the woman. If it were attacked in his absence " "He would return, and " Father Pezelay shook his head, his cheek turned a shade paler. Clearly, he saw with his mind's eye more than he expressed.
And Lescot and Thuriot shuffled in their seats. At length, "I do not know," Lescot muttered timidly. "You do not know?" "What can be done!" "The people will know!" Father Pezelay retorted "Trust them!" "But the people will not rise without a leader." "Then will I lead them!" "Even so, reverend Father I doubt," Lescot faltered. And Thuriot nodded assent.
But Father Pezelay knew whose will would prevail if Montsoreau met Tavannes at his leisure. To force Montsoreau's hand, therefore, to surround him on his first entrance with a howling mob already committed to violence, to set him at their head and pledge him before he knew with whom he had to do this had been, this still was, the priest's design.
Visitor also of the Diocese of Angers," the dignitary continued, puffing out his cheeks, "and Chaplain to the Lieutenant-Governor of Saumur, whose unworthy brother I am." "A handsome glove, and well embroidered!" Tavannes retorted in a tone of disdain. "The hand I see yonder!" He pointed to the lean parchment mask of Father Pezelay, who coloured ever so faintly, but held his peace under the sneer.
Make use of it and the hay will burn!" "You think it will?" "What can one man do against a thousand? His own people dare not support him." Father Pezelay turned to the lean man who kept the door, and, beckoning to him, conferred a while with him in a low voice. "A score or so I might get," the man answered presently, after some debate. "And well posted, something might be done.
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