The failure of his plot—if it was his plot—served to keep the lawyer quiet for a while. He remained at home with only his own domestics in the house, and although many men kept a strict watch no suspicious-looking stranger was seen to visit him.
Meanwhile the prospects of those of the Religion began to brighten: the king was apparently throwing off the influence of his mother and brother; it was reported that he relied more and more on the advice of Coligny, and in spite of the Pope and the Guises, he was still stubbornly bent on marrying his sister to Henry of Bearn.
The Queen of Navarre was at Blois, and Jeanne wrote me a long account of the balls and festivities Charles had arranged. I do not suppose they appealed strongly to Queen Joan, who had little taste for such worldly matters, but the music, the dance, and the joyous merriment were quite to the liking of the younger ladies in her train.
"The king has persuaded my dear mistress to consent to the marriage," Jeanne wrote, "and it is settled that we are to go from here to Paris. Felix has just left for Touraine. He is a dear, good fellow, and has been very kind. He says it is stupid for you to stay at Le Blanc. The king is so full of the marriage and of affairs of State that he will not attend to any less important business. Felix declares that if Prince Henry comes to Paris you must come too, and push your claims. It is certain that the prince's marriage will stop all further persecution of the Huguenots, and it is that which caused my mistress to give her consent. Felix told me yesterday that the Guises are very angry with the king, and have gone away. From all I hear, I really believe he would be pleased if they never came back."
I read portions of my sister's letter to Jacques, but when I remarked that our troubles were nearly at an end, he shook his head, saying, "Those who live will see, monsieur."
CHAPTER XXII
L'Estang Tells His Story
Spring had ripened into summer, and I was still at Le Blanc, not having heard from my patron, and being unwilling to depart without his orders. Cordel had gone to Paris, and, for the time at least, had abandoned his schemes.
One day, about the third week in June, I had just returned from a morning gallop when Jacques met me in the courtyard with the news that Ambroise Devine had brought me a packet from Monsieur Bellièvre.