But besides this sentiment of admiration for the prince, Christophe had also conceived a profound reverence for the great queen, who had explained to him by a single look the necessity which compelled her to sacrifice him; and who during his agony had given him an illimitable promise in a single tear. During the silent months of his weakness, as he lay there waiting for recovery, he thought over each event at Blois and at Orleans. He weighed, one might almost say in spite of himself, the relative worth of these two protections. He floated between the queen and the prince. He had certainly served Catherine more than he had served the Reformation, and in a young man both heart and mind would naturally incline toward the queen; less because she was a queen than because she was a woman. Under such circumstances a man will always hope more from a woman than from a man.
"I sacrificed myself for her; what will she do for me?"This question Christophe put to himself almost involuntarily as he remembered the tone in which she had said the words, /Povero mio/! It is difficult to believe how egotistical a man can become when he lies on a bed of sickness. Everything, even the exclusive devotion of which he is the object, drives him to think only of himself. By exaggerating in his own mind the obligation which the Prince de Conde was under to him he had come to expect that some office would be given to him at the court of Navarre. Still new to the world of political life, he forgot its contending interests and the rapid march of events which control and force the hand of all leaders of parties; he forgot it the more because he was practically a prisoner in solitary confinement on his bed in that old brown room. Each party is, necessarily, ungrateful while the struggle lasts; when it triumphs it has too many persons to reward not to be ungrateful still. Soldiers submit to this ingratitude; but their leaders turn against the new master at whose side they have acted and suffered like equals for so long. Christophe, who alone remembered his sufferings, felt himself already among the leaders of the Reformation by the fact of his martyrdom. His father, that old fox of commerce, so shrewd, so perspicacious, ended by divining the secret thought of his son; consequently, all his manoeuvres were now based on the natural expectancy to which Christophe had yielded himself.
"Wouldn't it be a fine thing," he had said to Babette, in presence of the family a few days before his interview with his son, "to be the wife of a counsellor of the Parliament? You would be called /madame/!""You are crazy, /compere/," said Lallier. "Where would you get ten thousand crowns' income from landed property, which a counsellor must have, according to law; and from whom could you buy the office? No one but the queen-mother and regent could help your son into Parliament, and I'm afraid he's too tainted with the new opinions for that.""What would you pay to see your daughter the wife of a counsellor?""Ah! you want to look into my purse, shrewd-head!" said Lallier.
Counsellor to the Parliament! The words worked powerfully in Christophe's brain.
Sometime after this conversation, one morning when Christophe was gazing at the river and thinking of the scene which began this history, of the Prince de Conde, Chaudieu, La Renaudie, of his journey to Blois,--in short, the whole story of his hopes,--his father came and sat down beside him, scarcely concealing a joyful thought beneath a serious manner.
"My son," he said, "after what passed between you and the leaders of the Tumult of Amboise, they owe you enough to make the care of your future incumbent on the house of Navarre.""Yes," replied Christophe.
"Well," continued his father, "I have asked their permission to buy a legal practice for you in the province of Bearn. Our good friend Pare undertook to present the letters which I wrote on your behalf to the Prince de Conde and the queen of Navarre. Here, read the answer of Monsieur de Pibrac, vice-chancellor of Navarre:--To the Sieur Lecamus, /syndic of the guild of furriers/:
Monseigneur le Prince de Conde desires me to express his regret that he cannot do what you ask for his late companion in the tower of Saint-Aignan, whom he perfectly remembers, and to whom, meanwhile, he offers the place of gendarme in his company; which will put your son in the way of making his mark as a man of courage, which he is.
The queen of Navarre awaits an opportunity to reward the Sieur Christophe, and will not fail to take advantage of it.
Upon which, Monsieur le syndic, we pray God to have you in His keeping.
Pibrac, At Nerac.
Chancellor of Navarre.
"Nerac, Pibrac, crack!" cried Babette. "There's no confidence to be placed in Gascons; they think only of themselves."Old Lecamus looked at his son, smiling scornfully.
"They propose to put on horseback a poor boy whose knees and ankles were shattered for their sakes!" cried the mother. "What a wicked jest!""I shall never see you a counsellor of Navarre," said his father.
"I wish I knew what Queen Catherine would do for me, if I made a claim upon her," said Christophe, cast down by the prince's answer.
"She made you no promise," said the old man, "but I am certain that /she/ will never mock you like these others; she will remember your sufferings. Still, how can the queen make a counsellor of the Parliament out of a protestant burgher?""But Christophe has not abjured!" cried Babette. "He can very well keep his private opinions secret.""The Prince de Conde would be less disdainful of a counsellor of the Parliament," said Lallier.
"Well, what say you, Christophe?" urged Babette.
"You are counting without the queen," replied the young lawyer.
A few days after this rather bitter disillusion, an apprentice brought Christophe the following laconic little missive:--Chaudieu wishes to see his son.
"Let him come in!" cried Christophe.
"Oh! my sacred martyr!" said the minister, embracing him; "have you recovered from your sufferings?""Yes, thanks to Pare."
