But the general attitude was of stupefied silence.
"Well," said La Renaudie, in a low voice, to Gabriel, "that is clearly not the right chord to strike. We must try another."
"Monsieur le Baron de Castelnau," he continued aloud, addressing a young man of thoughtful appearance and handsomely clad, who was leaning against the wall ten feet from him,—"Monsieur de Castelnau, have you not a word to say to us?"
"I might perhaps have had nothing to say independently; but I should like to say a word or two in reply," the young man responded.
"We are all attention," said La Renaudie.
"This young man," he added, speaking in Gabriel's ear again, "belongs to the party of the nobility; and you should have seen him at the Louvre the day you brought the news of the capture of Calais. Castelnau is frank, loyal, and brave. He will set up his flag as boldly as Lignières, and we shall see if he will be received any more warmly."
Castelnau mounted one of the steps of the rostrum, and spoke from that slight elevation.
"I will begin," he said, "like the orators who have preceded me. We have been iniquitously attacked; let us use like weapons to defend ourselves. Let us do in the open field, amid the panoply of war, what they have done in parliament among the red robes! But I differ in opinion from Monsieur de Lignières as to the rest. I, too, have a medal to show you. Here it is; it is not his. From a distance it seems to you to resemble the crowns from the royal mint which we carry in our purses, and in fact, like them, it does bear the stamp of a crowned head; but in lieu of 'Henricus II, rex Galliæ,' its legend reads, 'Ludovicus XIII., rex Galliæ.'[3] I have done."
The Baron de Castelnau left his place with his head proudly erect. His allusion to the Prince de Condé was flagrant. Those who had applauded Lignières muttered at his words, and vice versa.
But the large majority of those present were still motionless and speechless between the two minorities.