He never appeared at court, never saw a friend, and scarcely ever left his house, where he passed the long, sad, and dreamy hours with his faithful old nurse Aloyse and the page André, who had come back to him when Diane de Castro had taken her sudden flight to the Benedictine convent at St. Quentin.
Gabriel, still a young man in years, had grown old from grief. He brooded over the past, and had no longer any hope.
How many times during those months, each of which was years long, had he regretted that he was still alive! How many times did he wonder why the Duc de Guise and Mary Stuart had placed themselves between him and the anger of Catherine de Médicis, and had laid upon him the bitter burden of life! What had he to do on earth? What was he good for? Could the tomb be any more barren of result than this existence in which he was languishing,—if, indeed, it could be called an existence!
There were moments, however, when his youthful vigor rose in protest in spite of himself.
Then he would stretch his arms and raise his head and gaze at his sword. At such times he would have a vague feeling that his life was not ended, but that there was still a future for him, and that hours of hot fighting, and perhaps of victory, might sooner or later enter again into his destiny.
In view of everything, however, he could see only two chances of returning to the life of action for which he was best fitted,—a foreign war or religious persecution.
If France, if the king, should find themselves involved in some new war, undertaken for conquest, or to repel invasion, the Comte de Montgommery told himself that his youthful ardor would at once return, and that it would be pleasant for him to die as he had lived,—fighting.
And then how glad he would be to pay the involuntary debt he owed the Duc de Guise and young King François!
Again Gabriel would reflect that it would be a glorious thing to die in defence of the new truths which had shed their light upon his soul during the later days. The cause of the Reformation—in his eyes the cause of justice and liberty—was also a noble and saintly cause to serve.
The young count read assiduously the controversial books and sermons which then abounded. He burned with excitement over the great principles revealed in lofty and soul-stirring words by Luther, Melanchton, Calvin, Theodore de Bèze, and so many others. The books of all these untrammelled thinkers had fascinated and convinced him, and drawn him on to adopt their principles. He would have been proud and happy to sign the attestation of his faith with his blood.