The Pocket Bible or Christian the Printer Part 39

"We are somewhat after the fas.h.i.+on of the devil--we laugh about everything," said Clorinde to her. "You alone, Anna Bell, among us all, are as sad as a wife who sees her husband return from a long voyage, or beholds her gallant depart for the wars. What is the reason of your despondency?"

Anna Bell forced a smile, and answered: "Forget me, as the wife forgets her husband. To-day I feel in a sad humor."

"The remembrance, perhaps, of a bad dream?" suggested Blanche of Verceil, ironically. "Or perhaps bad news from a handsome and absent friend?"

"No, dear Blanche," replied Anna Bell, blus.h.i.+ng, "I am affected only by a vague sorrow--without cause or object. Besides, as you are aware, I am not of a gay disposition."

"Oh, G.o.d!" broke in Diana of Sauveterre, excitedly. "By the way of dreams, I must tell you I had a most frightful one last night. I saw our escort attacked by the Huguenot bandits called the Avengers of Israel."

"Their chief is said to be a devilish one-eyed man, who attacks monks and priests by choice," said Blanche, "and, when he takes them prisoner, flays their skulls. He calls that raising them to the cardinalate, coifing them with the red cap!"

"It is enough to make one s.h.i.+ver with terror. One hears nothing but reports of such atrocities," exclaimed Clorinde.

"We need not fear that we shall fall into the hands of that reprobate,"

said Diana rea.s.suringly. "We have attended a special ma.s.s for the success of our journey."

"I place but slight reliance upon the ma.s.s, my dear Diana, but a very strong one upon Count Neroweg of Plouernel, who commands our escort,"

replied Blanche. "The Huguenot bandits will not dare to approach our armed squadrons and light cavalry. The saber is a better protection to us than the priest's cowl."

"May G.o.d preserve us!" laughed Diana. "All the same, I would not regret undergoing a scare, or even running a certain degree of risk of being carried off, together with the accessory consequences--anything to see the frightened face of the Cardinal, who is as lily-livered as a hare."

"To tell the truth, I do not understand these charges of cowardice that you fling at the Cardinal, after so many proofs of valor given by him,"

said Blanche.

Diana of Sauveterre burst out laughing again. "You must be joking," she said, "when you speak of the 'bravery' of the Cardinal, and of the 'proofs of valor' given by him."

"No, indeed, my dear Diana," replied Blanche. "I am talking seriously.

First of all, did he not carry bravery to the point of charging old Diana of Poitiers, as he would have done a citadel? Did he not accomplish another exploit in pa.s.sing from the arms of Diana into those of our good Queen Catherine, though she be loaded with years and corpulence? Besides, we know," she added with a sinister smile, "that to play the gallant with Catherine is at times to court death. These are the reasons why I look upon the Cardinal as a Caesar."

"You would be talking to the point, my dear, if, instead of braving the one-eyed man, who has such a reputation for ferocity, the Cardinal were now to turn to the a.s.sault of some one-eyed woman," said Clorinde of Vaucernay.

"If heaven is just," said Diana, "it will yet place the Huguenot bandit face to face with the Cordelier Herve. Then would we see terrible things. The monk commands a company of Catholics, all desperate men. For arms he has a chaplet, the beads of which are arquebus b.a.l.l.s, and a heavy iron crucifix which he uses for a mace. All heretics who fall into the hands of the troop of Fra Herve are put to death with all manner of refined tortures, whether they be men or women, old men or children. But do let us return to our pasquils."

"The best are still to come. They are the cleverest and drollest, but they are in prose;" and Blanche continued reading:

"NEW WORKS BELONGING TO THE COURT LIBRARY.

"The _Pot-pourri of the Affairs of France_, translated from the Italian into French by the Queen of France.

"The _General Goslings' Record_, by the Cardinal of Bourbon. A collection of racy stories.

"The _History of Ganymede_, by the Duke of Anjou, the Queen's favorite son."

"The dear Prince surely did not write that book without a collaborator,"

cried Diana of Sauveterre, laughing. "I wager the lovely Odet, the son of Count Neroweg of Plouernel, his aide-de-camp, must have helped the Duke of Anjou in his work. The two youngsters have become inseparable, day--and night!"

"_O, Italiam! Italiam!_ O, Italy, the rival of Gomorrah and of Lesbos!"

exclaimed Clorinde, laughing boisterously.

"You speak Latin, my dear?" asked Diana, amused.

"Simply out of shame," replied Clorinde, "in order not to frighten the modesty of the maids of honor, my pretty chickens."

"I have a horror of the little hermaphrodites," agreed Blanche. "They are decked out like women--gaudy ruffles, jewelry in their ears, fans in their hands! May Venus protect us from the reign of those favorites! May the fires of h.e.l.l consume the popinjays! But to proceed with the pasquil. Attention, my dears:

"_Singular Treatise on Incest_, by Monsignor the Archbishop of Lyons, recently published and dedicated to Mademoiselle Grisolles, his sister. A pretty couple!

"Monsignor Archbishop studies reserved cases--in the confessional, in order to put them into practice.

"_Sermons_, by the reverend Father Burning-Fire, faithfully compiled by the street-porters of Paris.

"_The Perfect Pig_, by Monsieur Villequier, revised, corrected and considerably enlarged by Madam Villequier. Boar and sow!"

The maids of honor roared out aloud as they heard the burlesque t.i.tle, and they repeated in chorus--"The Perfect Pig!"[58]

"Now comes the last and best," proceeded Blanche. "We are again the theme, together with our good Dame Catherine. Ours the honors, as ever.

Meditate upon these dainties:

"MANIFESTO OF THE COURT LADIES.

"_Be it known to all by these presents that the Court Ladies have no less repentance than sins, as appears from the following lamentations_.

"CATHERINE DE MEDICI, THE KING'S MOTHER.

"My G.o.d, my heart, feeling the approach of death, apprehends Thy wrath and my eternal d.a.m.nation when I consider how many sins I have committed, as well with my body as through the violent death of others, even of near relatives--all in order to reign. How I have raised my children in vice, blasphemy and perfidy, and my daughters in unchaste licence, to the point of tolerating and even authorizing a brothel at my Court. France made me what I am. I unmake her all I can. With the good King David I say--_Tibi soli peccavi_."[59]

"That is carrying fiction to great lengths," laughed Diana of Sauveterre. "I do not believe our good Dame Catherine is capable of repenting any of the things laid to her door by the malignant pasquil--neither her debaucheries nor any of her other evil deeds--unchast.i.ties or a.s.sa.s.sinations."

"The word 'brothel' is rather impertinent when applied to us!" Clorinde exclaimed. "They should have said, like our dear Rabelais, 'an Abbey of Thalamia,' or 'a Monastery of Cyprus, of which the Queen is the Mother Abbess.' That would have been elegant--without doing violence to the truth. A 'brothel'--fie! fie! Nasty word! We are the priestesses of Venus--only that!"

"I was not aware, dearest, that you had become a model of prudishness!"

returned Blanche of Verceil with exquisite mockery. "When you ply a trade you must be willing to accept its name, and be indifferent to the word with which it is designated;" and she proceeded to read:

"MANIFESTO OF THE MAIDS OF HONOR.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! My G.o.d! What is to become of us, Lord! Oh, what will be of us, if Thou dost not extend to us Thy vast, very vast mercy!

We cry out to Thee in a loud voice that it may please Thee to forgive us the many carnal sins we have committed with Kings, Cardinals, Princes, knights, abbots, preachers, poets, musicians and all manner of other folks of all conditions, trades and quality, down to muleteers, pages and lackeys, and even further down--people corroded with disease and soaked in preservatives!

Therefore do we say with the good Madam Villequier: 'Oh, Lord, mercy! Grant us mercy! And if we can not find a husband, let us join the Order of the Magdalens!'

"Done at Chercheau, voyage to Nerac.

"_Signed_, CUCUFIN.

"(With the permission of Monsignor the Archbishop of Lyons.)"[60]

Such was the cynicism and moral turpitude of the wretched girls, corrupted and gangrened to the core as they were since early childhood by the perversions of an infamous court and the example as well as the advice of Catherine De Medici, that this scorching satire, more than any of the other pasquils, provoked the boundless hilarity of the "Flying Squadron." All sense of decorum was blotted out. Anna Bell alone blushed and dropped her eyes.

The gay guffaws of the beautiful sinners were interrupted by the solemn entrance of their governess.