CHAPTER IV.
HIS MAJESTY HENRI THE THIRD.
M. Friard was right when he talked of 100,000 persons as the number ofspectators who would meet on the Place de Greve and its environs, towitness the execution of Salcede. All Paris appeared to have arendezvous at the Hotel de Ville; and Paris is very exact, and nevermisses a fete; and the death of a man is a fete, especially when he hasraised so many passions that some curse and others bless him.
The spectators who succeeded in reaching the Place saw the archers and alarge number of Swiss and light horse surrounding a little scaffoldraised about four feet from the ground. It was so low as to be visibleonly to those immediately surrounding it, or to those who had windowsoverlooking the Place. Four vigorous white horses beat the groundimpatiently with their hoofs, to the great terror of the women, who hadeither chosen this place willingly, or had been forcibly pushed there.
These horses were unused, and had never done more work than to support,by some chance, on their broad backs the chubby children of thepeasants. After the scaffold and the horses, what next attracted alllooks was the principal window of the Hotel de Ville, which was hungwith red velvet and gold, and ornamented with the royal arms. This wasfor the king. Half-past one had just struck when this window was filled.First came Henri III., pale, almost bald, although he was at that timeonly thirty-five, and with a somber expression, always a mystery to hissubjects, who, when they saw him appear, never knew whether to say "Vivele Roi!" or to pray for his soul. He was dressed in black, withoutjewels or orders, and a single diamond shone in his cap, serving as afastening to three short plumes. He carried in his hand a little blackdog that his sister-in-law Marie Stuart had sent him from her prison,and on which his fingers looked as white as alabaster.
Behind the king came Catherine de Medicis, almost bowed by age, for shemight be sixty-six or sixty-seven, but still carrying her head firm anderect, and darting bitter glances from under her thick eyebrows. At herside appeared the melancholy but sweet face of the queen, Louise deTorraine. Catherine came as a triumph, she as a punishment. Behind themcame two handsome young men, brothers, the eldest of whom smiled withwonderful beauty, and the younger with great melancholy. The one wasAnne, duc de Joyeuse, and the other Henri de Joyeuse, comte de Bouchage.The people had for these favorites of the king none of the hatred whichthey had felt toward Maugiron, Quelus, and Schomberg.
Henri saluted the people gravely; then, turning to the young men, hesaid, "Anne, lean against the tapestry; it may last a long time."
"I hope so," said Catherine.
"You think, then, that Salcede will speak, mother?"
"God will, I trust, give this confusion to our enemies."
Henri looked doubtful.
"My son," said Catherine, "do I not see some tumult yonder?"
"What clear sight you have! I believe you are right. I have such badeyes, and yet I am not old. Yes, here comes Salcede."
"He fears," said Catherine; "he will speak."
"If he has strength," said the king. "See, his head falls about likethat of a corpse."
"He is frightful," said Joyeuse.
"How should a man be handsome whose thoughts are so ugly? Have I notexplained to you, Anne, the secret connection of the physical and themoral, as Hippocrates and Galen understood and expounded them?"
"I admit it, sire, but I am not a good pupil. I have sometimes seen veryugly men very good soldiers. Have you not, Henri?" said he, turning tohis brother: but he looked without seeing, and heard withoutunderstanding, so the king answered for him.
"Eh, mon Dieu! my dear Anne, who says this man is not brave? He isbrave, pardieu, like a wolf, a bear, or a serpent. He burned in hishouse a Norman gentleman, his enemy; he has fought ten duels, and killedthree of his adversaries. He has now been taken in the act of coining,for which he has been condemned to death."
"That is a well-filled existence, but which will soon finish."
"On the contrary," said Catherine, "I trust it will finish as slowly aspossible."
"Madame," said Joyeuse, "I see those four stout horses, who appear to meso impatient of their state of inactivity that I do not believe in along resistance of the muscles, tendons, and cartilages of M. deSalcede."
"Yes, but my son is merciful," replied she, with the smile peculiar toherself, "and he will tell the men to go gently."
"But, madame," said the queen timidly, "I heard you say this morningthat there were only to be two draws?"
"Yes, if he conducts himself well; in that case all will be finished assoon as possible, and, as you interest yourself so much in him, you hadbetter let him know as much, my daughter."
"Madame," said the queen, "I have not your strength when looking atsuffering."
"Do not look, then."
The king heard nothing; he was all eyes. They were lifting Salcede fromthe car on to the scaffold, round which the archers had cleared a largespace, so that it was distinctly visible to all eyes.
Salcede was about thirty-five years of age, strong and vigorous; and hispale features, on which stood drops of blood, were animated alternatelyby hope and anguish. He was no vulgar assassin; he was of good birth,and even distantly related to the queen, and had been a captain of somerenown. Those bound hands had valiantly borne the sword, and that lividhead, on which were depicted the terrors of death, had conceived greatdesigns. Therefore, to many of the spectators, he was a hero; to others,a victim; some looked on him as an assassin; but the crowd seldomdespises those very great criminals who are registered in the book ofhistory as well as in that of justice. Thus they told, in the crowd,that Salcede was of a race of warriors; that his father had foughtagainst the Cardinal de Lorraine, but that the son had joined with theGuises to destroy in Flanders the rising power of the Duc d'Anjou, sohated by the French.
He had been arrested and conducted to France, and had hoped to berescued by the way; but unfortunately for him, M. de Bellievre had keptsuch good watch, that neither Spaniards nor Lorraines, nor leaguers, hadbeen able to approach. In the prison Salcede hoped; during the torture,on the car, even on the scaffold, he still hoped. He wanted neithercourage nor resignation; but he was one of those who defend themselvesto their last breath. He darted curious glances toward the crowd, butconstantly turned away, with a look of disappointment.
At this moment, an usher, raising the tapestry of the royal tent,announced that the president Brisson and four councilors desired thehonor of an instant's conversation with the king on the subject of theexecution.
"Good," said the king. "Mother, you will be satisfied."
"Sire, a favor," said Joyeuse.
"Speak, Joyeuse; and provided it be not the pardon of the criminal--"
"Sire, permit my brother and me to retire."
"What! you take so little interest in my affairs that you wish to retireat such a moment!"
"Do not say so, sire; all that concerns your majesty profoundlyinterests me; but I am of a miserable organization, and the weakestwoman is stronger than I am on this point. I cannot see an executionwithout being ill for a week; and as I am the only person who everlaughs at the Louvre, since my brother--I know not why--has given it up,think what would become of the Louvre--so sad already--if I were sadalso."
"You wish to leave me then, Anne."
"Peste! sire, you are exacting; an execution is a spectacle of which,unlike me, you are fond. Is not that enough for you, or must you alsoenjoy the weakness of your friends?"
"If you will remain, Joyeuse, you will see that it is interesting."
"I do not doubt it, sire; I only think that the interest will be carriedto a point that I cannot bear;" and he turned toward the door.
"Go, then," said Henri, sighing; "my destiny is to live alone."
"Quick! Du Bouchage," said Anne to his brother. "The king says yes now;but in five minutes he will say no."
"Thanks, my brother," said Bouchage; "I was as anxious as you to getaway."
Les Quarante-cinq. English Page 5
