Riquet made a sort of semi-pirouette on the tips of his toes, and disappointed, though perhaps not surprised, marched out of the room, and shut the door.
"Albert," said the Chevalier, as soon as he was gone, "I am afraid, very much afraid, that all is lost for the cause of you Huguenots. There are people about the King, who must be mad to counsel him as they do. All the news I have, which perhaps you know already, is as sad as it can be. There wants but one more step to be taken for the utter abolition of what you call the reformed religion in France--I mean the abolition of the privileges granted by the edict of Nantes--and perhaps that step will be taken before I can reach Paris."
"So quickly?" exclaimed the Count.
"Even so!" rejoined his friend. "All the mad-like steps which have been taken by the council have been applauded by one general roar of the whole clergy of France. Petition after petition has come in from every Catholic body through the land, beseeching the King to do you every sort of injustice, and I feel convinced that they are persuading him, while he is risking a civil war, ruining his provinces, and exasperating some of his most faithful subjects, that he is acting justly, politicly and religiously, and is, in short, a saint upon earth, notwithstanding all his mistresses. I pretend to no power over the King or influence with him, except inasmuch as I can often say to him, in my wild rambling way, things that nobody else could say, and dare to tell him under the same cloak many an unpleasant fact that others will not tell him. However, my object now is to open his eyes about de Rouvré, to whom I am too deeply bound by ties of gratitude to see him injured and calumniated, if I can help it. I would fain ask you, Albert, what you intend to do, how you intend to act, when these rash measures are pushed to the extreme against you; but yet it is unfair to give you the pain of refusing me, and perhaps unwise to seek a share in secrets which I ought not to know, or, knowing, to reveal."
"As far as any thing has yet passed," replied the Count, "there is nothing either to conceal or to reveal, Louis. It will be difficult for the King to tire out my loyalty. I am determined to bear to the very utmost. What I shall do when the very utmost bound of endurance is passed I do not know, having as yet settled nothing in my own mind."
"I cannot think," continued the Chevalier, "that the King will individually treat you ill, who have served him so well; but with regard to your religion, depend upon it the utmost extremes are determined upon already."
"I grieve to hear it," replied the Count, "but it is not more than I expected. The rapidity of these measures gives no time for calm and loyal remonstrance or petition to make the King aware of the real truth."
"Such is indeed the case," said the Chevalier. "Couriers are arriving at Poitiers and taking their departure again five or six times in the day, killing the horses on the road, setting off fat men themselves and returning thin.--I know this is no joking matter, Albert, and I am anxious to do what little good I can. I am therefore going to follow the example of these couriers, and as soon as I have seen the King, and obtained some satisfaction on these matters, I shall return hither with all speed to watch the progress of events, and if possible to shield and protect my friends. In this quarter of the world," he added, holding out his hand to the Count with a frank smile, "in this quarter of the world are all those for whom I entertain any very sincere affection; de Rouvré, who has befriended me from my youth, and never lost an opportunity of serving me; you, Albert, who have been my companion for many years in perils and dangers, to whom I owe the immense benefit of a good example, and the no less inestimable blessing of a noble mind to communicate with under all circumstances."
"And Clémence de Marly," said the Count, with a melancholy smile, "of course you will add Clémence de Marly, Chevalier."
"Assuredly," replied the Chevalier, "assuredly, Albert, I will add Clémence de Marly. I will not ask you, Albert, why you look at me reproachfully. Clémence, I believe from my heart, loves you, and I scruple not to tell you so. If it were not for the cursed obstacle of your religion, you might both be happy. That is a terrible obstacle, it is true; but were it not for that--I say--you might both be happy, and your example and her love for you might do away the only faults she has, and make her to you a perfect angel, though there is not one other man in France, perhaps, whom she could endure or render happy. She also, and her fate, are amongst the objects of my journey to Paris; but of that I shall tell you nothing till I can tell you all."