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President de Thou came to see his G.o.dson, and was most paternal.
Christophe, as a pleader in the Parlement, ought to be a Catholic, he would be pledged to it by his oath; and the President, who never seemed to doubt the young man's orthodoxy, added these important words:
"You have been cruelly tested, my boy. I myself know nothing of the reasons Messieurs de Guise had for treating you thus; but now I exhort you to live quietly henceforth, and not to interfere in broils, for the favor of the King and Queen will not be shown to such as brew storms. You are not a great enough man to drive a bargain with the King, like the Duke and the Cardinal. If you want to be councillor in the Parlement some day, you can only attain that high office by serious devotion to the cause of Royalty."
However, neither Monsieur de Thou's visit, nor Babette's charms, nor the entreaties of Mademoiselle Lecamus his mother, had shaken the faith of the Protestant martyr. Christophe clung all the more stoutly to his religion in proportion to what he had suffered for it.
"My father will never allow me to marry a heretic," said Babette in his ear.
Christophe replied only with tears, which left the pretty girl speechless and thoughtful.
Old Lecamus maintained his dignity as a father and a Syndic, watched his son, and said little. The old man, having got back his dear Christophe, was almost vexed with himself, and repentant of having displayed all his affection for his only son; but secretly he admired him. At no time in his life had the furrier pulled so many wires to gain his ends; for he could see the ripe harvest of the crop sown with so much toil, and wished to gather it all.
A few days since he had had a long conversation with Christophe alone, hoping to discover the secret of his son's tenacity. Christophe, who was not devoid of ambition, believed in the Prince de Conde. The Prince's generous speech--which was no more than the stock-in-trade of princes--was stamped on his heart. He did not know that Conde had wished him at the devil at the moment when he bid him such a touching farewell through the bars of his prison at Orleans.
"A Gascon would have understood," the Prince had said to himself.
And in spite of his admiration for the Prince, Christophe cherished the deepest respect for Catherine, the great Queen who had explained to him in a look that she was compelled by necessity to sacrifice him, and then, during his torture, had conveyed to him in another glance an unlimited promise by an almost imperceptible tear.
During the deep calm of the ninety days and nights he had spent in recovering, the newly-made lawyer thought over the events at Blois and at Orleans. He weighed, in spite of himself, it may be said, the influence of these two patrons; he hesitated between the Queen and the Prince. He had certainly done more for Catherine than for the Reformation; and the young man's heart and mind, of course, went forth to the Queen, less by reason of this difference than because she was a woman. In such a case a man will always found his hopes on a woman rather than on a man.
"I immolated myself for her--what will she not do for me?"
This was the question he almost involuntarily asked himself as he recalled the tone in which she had said, "My poor boy!"
It is difficult to conceive of the pitch of self-consciousness reached by a man alone and sick in bed. Everything, even the care of which he is the object, tends to make him think of himself alone. By exaggerating the Prince de Conde's obligations to him, Christophe looked forward to obtaining some post at the Court of Navarre. The lad, a novice still in politics, was all the more forgetful of the anxieties which absorb party leaders, and of the swift rush of men and events which overrule them, because he lived almost in solitary imprisonment in that dark parlor. Every party is bound to be ungrateful when it is fighting for dear life; and when it has won the day, there are so many persons to be rewarded, that it is ungrateful still. The rank and file submit to this oblivion, but the captains turn against the new master who for so long has marched as their equal.
Christophe, the only person to remember what he had suffered, already reckoned himself as one of the chiefs of the Reformation by considering himself as one of its martyrs. Lecamus, the old wolf of trade, acute and clear-sighted, had guessed his son's secret thoughts; indeed, all his manoeuvring was based on the very natural hesitancy that possessed the lad.
"Would not it be fine," he had said the day before to Babette, "to be the wife of a Councillor to the Parlement; you would be addressed as madame."
"You are crazy, neighbor," said Lallier. "In the first place, where would you find ten thousand crowns a year in landed estate, which a Councillor must show, and from whom could you purchase a connection? The Queen-mother and Regent would have to give all her mind to it to get your son into the Parlement; and he smells of the stake too strongly to be admitted."
"What would you give, now, to see your daughter a Councillor's wife?"
"You want to sound the depth of my purse, you old fox!" exclaimed Lallier.
Councillor to the Parlement! The words distracted Christophe's brain.
Long after the conference was over, one morning when Christophe sat gazing at the river, which reminded him of the scene that was the beginning of all this story, of the Prince de Conde, la Renaudie, and Chaudieu, of his journey to Blois, and of all he hoped for, the Syndic came to sit down by his son with ill-disguised glee under an affectation of solemnity.
"My boy," said he, "after what took place between you and the heads of the riot at Amboise, they owed you so much that your future might very well be cared for by the House of Navarre."
"Yes," replied Christophe.
"Well," his father went on, "I have definitely applied for permission for you to purchase a legal business in Bearn. Our good friend Pare undertook to transmit the letters I wrote in your name to the Prince de Conde and Queen Jeanne.--Here, read this reply from Monsieur de Pibrac, Vice-Chancellor of Navarre:--
"_To Master Lecamus, Syndic of the Guild of Furriers._
"His Highness the Prince de Conde bids me express to you his regret at being unable to do anything for his fellow-prisoner in the Tour de Saint-Aignan, whom he remembers well, and to whom, for the present, he offers the place of man-at-arms in his own company, where he will have the opportunity of making his way as a man of good heart--which he is.
"The Queen of Navarre hopes for an occasion of rewarding Master Christophe, and will not fail.
"And with this, Monsieur le Syndic, I pray G.o.d have you in His keeping.
PIBRAC, "_Chancellor of Navarre_.
"Nerac."
"Nerac! Pibrac! Crac!" cried Babette. "There is nothing to be got out of these Gascons; they think only of themselves."
Old Lecamus was looking at his son with ironical amus.e.m.e.nt.
"And he wants to set a poor boy on horseback whose knees and ankles were pounded up for him!" cried the mother. "What a shameful mockery!"
"I do not seem to see you as a Councillor in Navarre," said the old furrier.
"I should like to know what Queen Catherine would do for me if I pet.i.tioned her," said Christophe, much crest-fallen.
"She made no promises," said the old merchant, "but I am sure she would not make a fool of you, and would remember your sufferings. Still, how could she make a councillor-at-law of a Protestant citizen?"
"But Christophe has never abjured!" exclaimed Babette. "He may surely keep his own secret as to his religious opinions."
"The Prince de Conde would be less scornful of a Councillor to the Parlement of Paris," said Lecamus.
"A Councillor, father! Is it possible?"
"Yes, if you do nothing to upset what I am managing for you. My neighbor Lallier here is ready to pay two hundred thousand livres, if I add as much again, for the purchase of a fine estate entailed on the heirs male, which we will hand over to you."
"And I will add something more for a house in Paris," said Lallier.
"Well, Christophe?" said Babette.
"You are talking without the Queen," replied the young lawyer.
Some days after this bitter mortification, an apprentice brought this brief note to Christophe:
"Chaudieu wishes to see his son."
"Bring him in," said Christophe.
"O my saint and martyr!" cried the preacher, embracing the young man, "have you got over your sufferings?"
"Yes, thanks to Pare."
"Thanks to G.o.d, who gave you strength to endure them! But what is this I hear? You have pa.s.sed as a pleader, you have taken the oath of fidelity, you have confessed the Wh.o.r.e, the Catholic, Apostolic, Romish Church."
"My father insisted."