"Why so, in God's name?"
"Why, in the first place, don't you know of the shameful treaty with which they have crowned our victories? If we had been forced to raise the siege of Calais, if the English still had the gateways of France in their hands,—in short, if defeat at all points had demonstrated the insufficiency or incompetency of our forces, and the impossibility of continuing an unequal conflict, we could not have been asked to sign a more unfavorable and dishonorable treaty than that of Cateau-Cambrésis."
"That is true, Monseigneur," Gabriel remarked; "and every one grieves to think that such a magnificent harvest yielded so little fruit."
"Oh, well," rejoined the duke; "how can you expect me to sow for people who know so little about reaping? And then, too, have they not forced me to remain ingloriously idle by this glorious peace of theirs? There is my sword, doomed for a long time to rust in its scabbard. War everywhere at an end, at whatever cost, puts an end at the same time to my fair dreams of glory; and between ourselves that was one of the main objects sought to be accomplished."
"But you are no less mighty even in this forced inaction, Monseigneur," said Gabriel. "You are respected at court, worshipped by the people, and dreaded by foreign nations."
"Yes, I believe I am beloved at home, and feared abroad," Le Balafré replied; "but do not tell me, my friend, that I am respected at the Louvre. While they are thus publicly reducing to nought the certain results of our success, they are threatening my private influence as well. When I returned from the North, whom did I find in greater favor than ever? That insolent, beaten hound of St. Laurent fame,—that Montmorency, whom I detest!"
"Oh, no more than I do, surely!" muttered Gabriel.
"It was by his influence and for his own purposes that this peace for which we are all blushing was concluded. Not content with thus making my efforts appear of less account, he was very careful to look after his own interests in the treaty, and to have the amount of his ransom after being taken prisoner at St. Laurent repaid to him,—for the second or third time, I believe! To such a degree does he speculate upon his defeat and disgrace."
"And does the Duc de Guise enter upon a rivalry with such as he?" asked Gabriel, with a disdainful smile.
"He shudders at the thought, my friend; but you can see that it is forced upon him! You can see that Monsieur le Connétable is protected by something stronger than glory or renown,—by some person more powerful than the king himself! You can see that my services can never equal those of Madame Diane de Poitiers, whom may the lightning wither!"