CHAPTER XXVIII.
THIRD COUNCIL OF WAR
Raphael had not been long in his bedroom when a light knock came to thedoor. He looked about him with a startled air, as if there might besomething to be concealed on some table or in some alcove. All seemed inorder to his eye. Reassured, he went on tiptoe and opened the door verygently, just so far that whoever stood without might enter.
"You?" he said, in a tone of surprise.
And the Jesuit father came into the room, softly smiling at the youngman's surprise.
"Ah," he said, with the most delicate touch of rebuke in his tone, "youperhaps expected your major-domo, your steward. I forgot that you were abachelor and must attend to the morrow's provender, otherwise we shouldall starve."
"Ah, no," said the Master of Collioure, "I have a good housekeeper, inaddition to Sebastian Tet, my major-domo. I can sleep on both ears andknow that my guests will not go dinnerless to-morrow. We are poor, butthere is always soup in the cabbage-garden, fish in the sea, mutton onthe hills, and wine everywhere at Collioure--good and strong, the wineof Roussillon!"
"Faith," said the Jesuit, "but for the Order, a man might do worse thanabide here. 'Tis Egypt and its fleshpots! No wonder you are so fond ofit. And" (here he paused a little to give weight to his words) "PaulMorella told me to-day that there is even a Cleopatra of the Heavy Locksup there among the flocks of Goshen! You make your land of bondagecomplete indeed!"
The dark face of Raphael grew livid and unlovely, as the eyes of thesmiling priest rested shrewdly upon him.
"Paul Morella meddles with what does not concern him," he answeredbrusquely; "that is no safe business in Roussillon, as he willfind--especially when one has a sister of an unguarded tongue. I haveseen a knife-point look out at the other side of a man for less!"
Father Mariana raised his plump hands in deprecation.
"No, no," he said. "_'Quoniam Deus mortem non fecit, nec laetatur inperditione vivorum!'_ Neither must you, my son, and a son of HolyChurch. Besides, there are always other ways. I am writing a book toshow how the Church can best be served with the guile of the serpent,yet with the harmlessness of the dove."
The mood of the young man changed as he listened, as it always did withFather Mariana of Toledo.
"I spoke in haste," he said. "I wish no ill to Paul Morella, nor to hissister, the Countess Livia--only I would their tongues were stiller!"
The Jesuit patted Raphael's arm gently and soothingly.
"Be content," he murmured; "the Countess Livia is neither your sisternor your wife. 'As the climbing up of a sandy way is to the feet of theaged--so is a wife full of words to a quiet man.' So it is written, andall marriage is but a commentary upon that text."
"Hum, it may be, my father," said Raphael, "and to tell the truth, I amtempted to try. In which matter I shall be glad to have your advice, myfather Mariana, since you have come all the way from your hermitage atToledo to visit your old pupil----"
"And also to serve the Order and Holy Church," added the Jesuit gravely,like a preceptor making a necessary correction in an exercise. "Is it asspiritual director or as friend that you desire my counsel?"
"As a man of the world, rather," said Raphael, sitting down on the edgeof his bed and nursing his knee between his joined fingers. The Jesuithad already installed himself in the great tapestried armchair, and puthis small, neatly-shod feet close together on the footstool.
"Alas, my son," said the priest, when at last he was comfortable, "Ihave long ago lost all title to that name. And yet, I do not know; Ihave been chased from most countries, and openly condemned by theGeneral of my own Order. Yet I serve in faith----"
"Oh," said Raphael, smiling, "all the world knows that the Orderapproves your doings. The General only condemns your words for thebenefit of the vulgar and anointed kings. If I make not too bold, itseems to me that there is a certain king in France--I say not ofFrance--who may well be interested in your presence so near histerritories! If I were he, I should say my prayers!"
"If you speak of the Bearnais, you are mistaken," said Mariana; "he, atleast, is an open enemy, and, who knows, may one day be reconciled,being at heart a good, fightful, eat-drink-and-be-merry pagan--indeed,Raphael Llorient of Collioure, very much of your own religion, save thatwhere he would wield a battle-axe you would drive a dagger, save that hemakes love where you would make money, and he trolls a catch where youwhisper a pass-word. But as to the advice--well, put your case. Thenight is young before us, and this wine of Burgundy, like myself--old,old, old!"
"My father," said Raphael, "just now you spoke of money. It is true Iseek it--but to spend, not to hoard. Too often I hazard it on the turnof a dice-cube. I lose it. Money will not stay with me, neither thegolden discs, nor the value of them. This trick of gaming I haveinherited from my grandfather. Only he had the good sense to die beforehe had spent all his heritance. His sons, being given rather tosword-play and the war-game, died before him. To all appearance I wassole heir, and so for long I considered myself. But when mygrandfather's will was found, half only was left to me--the other halfto his only daughter Colette and to her children. The will is in theprovincial archives at Perpignan. He had placed it there himself. A copyis in the registry of the bishop at Elne. Yet another copy was sent tothe Huguenot whom my aunt Colette married."
"Ah," said the Jesuit, narrowing his eyes in deep thought, "and thisheretic--has he never claimed the inheritance?"
"He is dead, they say--was killed in Paris, on the day of theBarricades. Yet he received the paper, and now his daughter has come toCollioure, and is abiding at the house of La Masane with the familythere--emigrants from Provence--one of whom, by some trick of cunning oraptitude for flattery, has become a professor at the Sorbonne--DoctorAnatole Long, he styles himself."
"Ah," said the Jesuit, in a changed, caressing voice, "a learned man; hehas written well upon the eloquence of Greece and Rome as applied to thepurposes of the Church. I myself have ordered a translation of hisbooks to be made for the use of our schools at Toledo. And yet--I heardsomething concerning him read from the Gazette of the Order at our lastcouncil meeting. Had he not to flee, because he alone of the Senatuswithstood the Holy League?"
Raphael nodded slightly. The quarrels of philosophers were nothing tohim.
"Aye, and brought my cousin Claire with him--Colette's daughter, as Isuppose, to claim the property--the property which I have nolonger--which is blown wantonly upon every wind, rattled in other men'spockets, paid out for laces and silks which I never wore----"
"You have been a foolish lad," said the Jesuit; "but one day, when youhave spent all, you will make a very good prodigal son to the Gesu.Perhaps the hour is not far distant. What, then, is your intention?"
"I see nothing for it but that I must marry the girl," said RaphaelLlorient; "she is fair, and you--and the King--must help me to adispensation. Then her portion shall be her dower, and there is only herhusband to account to for it. I shall be that husband."
A subtle change passed over the Jesuit's face as his pupil was speaking.He smiled.
"Softly, softly," he murmured; "to eat an egg, it is not necessary tocook it in a silver vessel over a fire of sandalwood, and serve it upona platter of gold. It tastes just as well boiled in an earthenware dishand eaten in the fingers."
"I have gone too far," said Raphael; "I cannot stand upon metaphors. Myeggs are already sucked. I have deceived the King, paid neither duty tohim nor tithes to the Church upon my cousin's portion. I must marry orburn!"
"That you have not paid your tithes to the Church is grave," said theJesuit, "but the time is not too late. Perhaps you can pay in service.We of the Society need the willing hand, the far-seeing brain more thancoined gold--though that, of course, we must have too."
"The King's arm is long," said Raphael, "and I fear he thinks I have notdone enough for his Armada. This news would end me if it were to come tohis ears."
"I judge that there will be no such need," purred the Jesuit; "is thiscousin of you
rs by chance a heretic, even as was her father?"
Raphael started. His netted fingers let go his knee, which in its turnslowly relaxed and allowed the foot to sink to the ground, as through adense medium.
"I do not understand you, my father," he said, breathing deeply, hiseyes fixed on the priest's mild and smiling face.
"If your cousin be a Protestant, a heretic," continued the Jesuit, "I donot see that there is any difficulty----"
"You mean----?" said Raphael, his face now of a livid paleness.
The priest beckoned him a little nearer, placed his lips, still smiling,close to the young man's ear, and whispered two words.
"No--no--no!" gasped Raphael, starting back, "not that--anything butthat! I cannot--I will not--anything but that!"
"Then there is, I fear greatly, no other way!"
"None?"
"Your soul is the Church's--your body the King's," said the Jesuit;"take care that you offend not both. For such there is no forgiveness,even in the grave. Besides, you could never get a dispensation to marrya heretic. Trust me, my way is the best."
"She would return to the Faith," said Raphael, who, though a man of nohalf measures in his own plottings, yet stood aghast and horrified atwhat the smiling priest proposed to him.
"Never," said Father Mariana; "I know the breed--'proud as a Scot,' saythe French, your friends, who know them best. And in nothing prouder ormore stubborn than in their heresy and hatred of the WholesomeDiscipline of the Church."
"I cannot," said Raphael; "after all, she is my cousin--my near and onlyrelative."
"If she were the mother who bore you," affirmed the priest, "your dutywould be the same. And moreover (though, indeed, it becomes not me topress upon you that which should be your first happiness), has it struckyou that you have passed your word to the Senorita Valentine, myniece----?"
"The Lady Valentine would have nothing to say to me," cried the youngman sharply; "I wed none such!"
"But are you so sure of your Scottish heretic? As for Valentine, whenwas a gallant young man discouraged by a woman's first 'No'? You havemuch to learn, young man; Valentine la Nina has been well taught. Fearnothing. Where she gives her hand, her heart will go with it. I haveschooled her myself. She has no will but that of the Gesu--think on it,my son, and deeply!"
And still smiling gently, the Jesuit went out, leaving Raphael tomeditations singularly unhappy, even for a man who has to choose betweenthe gallows and marriage with one of two women, neither of whom heloves.
The White Plumes of Navarre: A Romance of the Wars of Religion Page 29
