Michael Zévaco's the Pardaillan: Volume Ii the Knight-Errant

Michael Zévaco’s

The Pardaillan

The Knight-Errant

Volume II

Edited and Translated by

Eduardo Berdugo

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

© 2010 Eduardo Berdugo, Editor and Translator. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 9/21/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4389-6410-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-6408-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-6409-6 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009910167

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

The Prisoners

The House on the Street of the Aitch

Father and Son

At the Louvre

The First Lover

The Defiance

The Siege

Disobedience Redux

The Refuge

The Queen Mother

Jacob’s Amusement

The Wine Cellar

Jeanne of Albret

The Amazement

The Bewilderment

A Homeric Episode

The Revenge

The Diamond

The End of a Pain

On behalf of a grateful Nation

I dedicate this book to my son

Gabriel Berdugo

A soldier in the U. S. Army

Fighting for democracy and his country

On his second tour of duty in Iraq

I

The Prisoners

In the firsts days of April, it’s to say, when Pardaillan well-dressed and transformed from head to toe was nearing Paris and trying with his son to join Francis of Montmorency, we went inside the palace of Mesmes where Joan of Piennes and Louise were kept prisoners for some twelve days.

The marshal of Damville paced somberly and agitated in the great hall on the first floor.

He was disturbed and upon having found Joan again Henry felt taken back newly to his youth.

In the previous chapter we have seen how his passions had been attenuated little by little to the point that he had not reproached Pardaillan at all.

Henry had managed to forget about Joan or at least thus he figured it but as soon as he saw her again and took possession of her, he understood that he loved her still. Perhaps his love took a different form since now it was just pride, but he saw clearly that if in the past, he had been capable of a crime now he would not hesitate to commit all kinds of violence and attempts to satisfy his passions.

Before, he thought, when I observed her through the fence at the cabin where she had sought refuge, when I felt my heart beat with force and my temples palpitate deafly, I used to tell myself that I’d never dare to come near her. My wishes were only that Joan would not belong to anyone else . . . , to ‘him’, to the hypocrite twee who seduced her with beautiful words that I’ve never known. Yes, I was then complacent with not seeing her ever again, provided that ‘he’ saw her neither. I remember that at this point when he wounded me, and I was taken to the castle by those lumberjacks, my most atrocious pain was to think that they were going to get together and that everything that I’d done until then had been for nothing. Happily, nothing like that happened and when I learned that my father had disposed of the separation permanently I had such an immense joy that it was good enough for me. Where does it come from, then, the love that I now feel? Why didn’t I try to look for her if I loved her?

The marshal stopped pensively and said to himself: It’s because I hated my brother more than I loved her. That’s why the years could erase the love when the hate was the same. And it was to the tune of that hate to dominate him and to crush him that I undertook this adventure from which maybe I won’t come out alive. And he continued his pacing proceeding with the monolog.

Then, why does the fact that I found her bothers me? Why do I experience a passion I thought extinguished? Am I going to love her more than ever? Where could he be? I hope far from Paris, without any doubt. How much would I enjoy telling him that I have Joan in my power?

While Henry pronounced those words someone knocked at the door and giving permission to enter the squire who had accompanied him at the Pont-de-Cé inn appeared.

My lord, he said without waiting to be interrogated, I must give you some grave news.

Speak.

My lord’s brother’s in Paris.

Damville paled.

I’ve seen him with my own eyes, the squire continued saying, and I followed him. Now he’s at his palace.

Are you sure he didn’t trick you?

I’ve recognized him perfectly, my lord.

Very well, leave me.

Once alone Henry of Montmorency let himself fall on the couch and even though a few moments earlier he had expressed his desire to find his brother at this point his body was overcome with trembles.

And he was already seeking ways to abscond from his brother because he personified the vengeance that at any moment could befall on him implacably.

I presage that the encounter is inevitable. It’s been in vain that for the past sixteen years we’ve interposed great distances between us. The inevitable must come. Within eight days maybe tomorrow itself, we’ll encounter each other face to face and then what would we say to each other?

He got up and took a few steps with a contracted face, trying to dominate himself or to excuse his own eyes from the horror that was caused by just getting the news that his brother was in Paris.

Ah, if only I could just be left alone! He said, striking the table with his fist.

How would he go looking for him, screaming at his face?

Am I whom you’re looking for in Paris? Here you have me! What do you want? But I’m not alone because she’s there, and I love her. I don’t want him to find her or see her. Who knows if he doesn’t love her anymore? What will I do? Where can I hide her?

For one hour Henry of Montmorency continued pacing and slowly began to calm down. Finally, a smile appeared on his lips. Perhaps because he found what he was looking for since he murmured: Yes she’ll be secured there. I’ve good means to ensure the fidelity of this woman.

Immediately, he went to the room where Joan of Piennes and her daughter Louise were locked up. Once at the door he listened for a moment but did not hear a sound; he unlocked it slowly with a key which hung around his neck, and then he pushed it open, stopped and turned pale.

Joan and her daughter were tightly embracing as if they wanted to protect each other from an unspeakable horror.

At first he saw only Joan. How beautiful she was still!

He took one more step forward, closed the door carefully and approached them saying Do you recognize me, my lady?

Joan of Piennes placed herself resolutely before Louise and said to him How dare you show yourself before this baby girl? Why do you dare to speak in her presence?

I see that you recognize me the marshal said with rude irony. I congratulate myself for it, since I see not having aged as one of your friends from a while back said to me, the knight of Pardaillan.

Maternal love had given Joan the audacity to exclaim with tranquility, Monsieur! You do wrong to evoke before my daughter the odious memories. Go, believe me. You’ve committed another infamy destroying the poor happiness we had left, but one more or less felony doesn’t matter in your life, does it? We’re your prisoners but I swear to you that I’ve decided to prevent my daughter from hearing your infamous allusions.

Montmorency became furious almost to the point of being overwhelmed by his violent character, but he managed to contain himself and said I see you as always. Every time that I find me before you, I see portrayed in your countenance hate or fear. And today after so many years which should have inspired you to forget, I find again in each of your words and in all of your gestures hate and terror. I’m sure this is of little importance to you without a doubt. Even so, I must speak to you, my lady. And like you, I believe it’d be convenient that we talk alone. Therefore, I beg your daughter to be kind enough and leave us alone.

Louise embraced her mother tightly and exclaimed Mother, I don’t want to leave you.

No, my dear daughter, Joan said. We won’t be separated. I want to be at your side to defend you.

Henry turned pale. His plan to isolate Joan had failed. For an instant, he was inclined to think that perhaps violence was called for, but he saw Joan so decided that he got scared.

Even so, it was necessary to speak to her.

What do you fear? He finally said in loud voice. If I’d wanted to separate you from your daughter, I’d done so with great easiness, but I haven’t wanted to do such a thing. Think and say what you wish, but you won’t be able to take away from me the merit of my frankness. Yes, I’ve acted violently and very likely will do it again. I’m faithful to me. I’m not like one of those miserable men who repudiate their women once they are married. You protest, don’t you? I don’t care. You won’t be able to alter things that have been, and the truth of the matter is that Francis abandoned you like the coward that he is, and I’m faithful to me.

A scream of horror and indignation exploded from Joan’s lips. Without thinking, Henry had found the best way to get Joan to answer him.

For a moment he forgot about Louise in order to think more about Francis.

Miserable man! She shouted with vehemence in which she put all of her love of aforetime. Ingrate man! Your felony and infamy were the causes of our separation, but you should know that Francis far away from me cries as I cry for him.

Joan then broke out sobbing bitterly.

Mother! Mother! You have me here! Louise shouted.

These words returned to Joan the presence of her spirit and tightening her daughter with her arms she said Yes, my daughter. I have you at my side, and you’re now my only treasure.

Henry contemplated in ire the group made up of the mother and her daughter cuddled together and understood then the graveness of the error he had committed for not having separated them. He understood that his words would be in vain and that only violence could give him results.

Well, he said trying to give his voice a conciliatory tone, later you’ll make me justice and when you realize the danger I’ve removed from you perhaps you’ll look at me with lesser terror. Now it’s necessary for you to learn what I’d come to tell you. You can’t continue to be in this palace because the same danger that threatened you on the street of Saint Denis threatens you here still. Do me the favor to get ready, because within an hour a carriage will transport you to a house where you’ll be perfectly safe. Goodbye, madame.

An imperceptible movement of happiness escaped Joan, but Henry’s distrustful look caught it just in time.

I must add he said tranquilly that any attempt to evade or any shouts during the trip will be at least useless but they very well can become dangerous for this little girl.

And he left murmuring For the rest, I’ll choose the right time.

After Henry of Montmorency left the two women remained silent and speechless for a few moments.

The fictitious force that had sustained Joan in the presence of his terrible enemy left her abruptly. The poor woman was experiencing one of those terrors that paralyze the thought.

There is no remedy, she told herself. My daughter and I are doomed.

In effect, the conversation she had just sustained with Henry, if conversation can be called an exchange of threats and defiance, had proven to her that man was still the same as in the old days.

In the recent days that just went by, even though knowing that she was still under Henry’s power, she had the occasion to observe that her passion was more violent than before.

Her hope had then vanished because the Henry, who had appeared before her was the same from her past perhaps a little less violent but more hypocrite.

What’s he going to do with us? She asked herself.

Valor, mother said Louise. The principal is that they don’t separate us.

That night the two poor women did not go to bed but the hours passed without him coming back for them in spite of what Henry had said and close to dawn they slept together one next to the other fatigued to death.

II

The House on the Street of the Aitch

Two unforeseen events had prevented the marshal of Damville from carrying out his projects that night. Upon leaving Joan of Piennes, he observed how strange it was of how happy he was feeling and besides his made up story when he told them that he had removed them from danger appeared to him magnificent.

She had begun by cursing me but next time, she’ll listen to me without anger.

And with this idea in mind he disposed to guard his prisoners in a safe place. To get separated from them appeared very painful to him but with the certainty that Francis was in Paris and his vague presentiments that he could go to the palace of Mesmes made him decide that the separation was not going to be too long.

Henry waited until the night began to fall, and toward seven thirty, at the peak of the twilight, he wrapped himself on a big cape, covered his head with a biretta without feathers and armed himself with a solid dagger. He left the hotel, and half-hour later he stopped on the street of the Aitch at the corner of the Traversine, in front of the little house with a green door where Alice of Lux lives.

The marshal looked around very quickly to make sure that nobody was spying on him, and then he inserted a key in the lock but the door did not open.

Ah! He exclaimed. She had the lock replaced. She’s a very clever woman.

Then, he decided to call but inside the house great silence reigned. Nevertheless, the marshal observed that the weak light coming from the aperture of the door went out in an instant.

They suspect something the marshal said to himself. That proves that she’s here. But, hell, they’ll have to let me in.

And he knocked louder. Doubtless the people inside were concerned that the commotion could attract the curiosity of the neighbors, and it was absolutely necessary that the house appeared uninhabited because Henry heard steps rushing along the sand of the little garden and soon enough a bitter voice was heard saying get on your way if you don’t want me to call the night patrol.

Laura! Henry exclaimed.

A drowned exclamation was his answer.

Open up, Laura the marshal continued, or by all the devils I’ll jump over the wall.

The door opened immediately.

Is that you monsignor? The old Laura asked.

Yes, it’s I. Does my visit surprise you?

Oh! Like it’s been almost a year . . .

Reason enough to welcome me with joy for my return. I want to speak to Alice.

She’s not in Paris, my lord.

Come on! Henry continued. Not long ago in the Louvre they talked about nothing but her return.

She’s gone again. Laura said energetically.

Well, I’ll lodge here even if I have to wait a month.

Come in, my lord, a voice said while at the same time a white figure appeared at the umbra of the house.

It was Alice. The marshal recognized her right away and saluted her with such a grace, typically not extended by the insolence that a nobleman of high pedigree believed it to be his right to demonstrate.

Alice went inside the house again and Laura turned on the lanterns. The marshal turned to the young woman, while she, on her feet, a little pale and looking down, waited for Laura to leave the room.

I listen to you, my lord, she said then. You forced my door open, screamed and shouted, and greeted me with all the irony of which you’re capable; all because I’ve been your lover. Let’s see what you’ve to tell me.

The marshal was left astonished to hear those words; since in Alice’s attitude and physiognomy, there was a sort of painful dignity. Then he uncovered and bowed ceremoniously.

What I have to tell you! He exclaimed. For the moment, I beg your pardon for having presented me in this manner, and I’m afraid to have provoked your anger now when I’d like to ask you for a favor.

I never get mad, my lord.

Effectively, as soon as she understood that the marshal of Damville had not come to her house as a lover who had acquired the rights, but to ask her for a favor that she could do, his presence became indifferent to her.

Meanwhile, he had looked around the room so well known to him.

Nothing has changed, he said, except for two things.

What are they, my lord?

Before anything else you’re more beautiful than ever. . . Oh, take it easy! This is just a simple observation.

And what else? Alice said.

Well, the marshal said, I see that my portrait’s disappeared.

In two words I’m going to explain to you, my lord, why your portrait isn’t here, why it took so long to open the door for you and why, at last, I beg of you to forget my existence . . . I’ve a lover!

It was said with such frankness that appeared too painful or too sublime to Henry if he could have read inside the heart of his old flame.

Alice of Lux did not make this confession as defiance but as a warning that honored the marshal since it was supposed that he was capable of keeping absolute discretion.

I’ve been replaced. Henry said without suspecting that he was saying it rudely. It satisfies me. Not for you, my lady, even though I wish you all kinds of happiness, but for me, for myself.

Alice directed a look to the marshal filled with wonderment.

Yes, he continued, the favor I’ve come to ask of you, demands that you should have forgotten about me sufficiently but not totally to understand what I’m going to tell you, or else I wouldn’t count on your good will.

Is it for you?

I’m going to explain it with clarity, Henry said, sitting down on a couch at Alice’s request.

At that moment the young woman turned pale instantly and drowned a shout.

She took the marshal by the arm and with a force hundredfold by danger dragged him to a small den nearby closing the door behind them.

Immediately, the old Laura appeared very scared.

Silence, Alice said with a hoarse voice. I know already; I’ve heard it.

What she knew and what she had heard was that someone had opened the outside door to the house and the only person that could do it was the count of Marillac.

The count crossed the garden in two jumps and went straight to Alice, who, livid and disturbed, was at the center of the den leaning on a couch.

Is that you my beloved count? She said.

The count got closer smiling and with his arms extended toward her, and upon seeing her embarrassed and pallid, he asked her Are you ill, Alice?

No, the young woman answered, it’s just the emotion of seeing you.

And with great effort, she managed to show her lover a happy face.

The count of Marillac was perplexed. Until then he had counted scrupulously the days and hours slated for his visits and could not understand why having come a day early could disturb his young friend that way. She understood what was going on with him and said smiling. I’m a girl; I’ve been to the point of almost getting ill because I see you on Thursdays instead of Fridays but this is a sweet surprise my friend, since I don’t have anyone else but you and I don’t think about anybody else but you so every time I see you my heart palpitates violently.

My dear Alice, the young man exclaimed taking her into his arms and kissing her perfumed hair. I, too, don’t have anyone else in the world but you and also, when I come to this blessed house, I feel my heart dilating and throbbing of happiness.

Alice began to relax as she was thinking The marshal’s going to hear everything. But, what do I care? He won’t see Déodat nor would he recognize him.

Forgive me for having come unannounced, the count said.

To forgive you? When you make me so happy!

I’ve come to let you know that tomorrow I won’t be blissful at your side.

You won’t come? Alice asked with a voice lucidly with grief.

No. Listen, my dear friend. Tonight, as a matter of fact, within the hour, I’ll attend a meeting with great personages, but because I don’t want to hide anything from you . . .

Alice, upon hearing these words felt a chill creeping up her spine because she knew the count was going to reveal political secrets. How do I stop him from speaking? She thought. What can I do so that Damville won’t hear anything?

Aren’t you my beloved one? The count continued.

Why do you want to explain to me all that? Alice said. From you, I only want to hear words of love.

Alice, the count continued, smiling, you’re my life’s companion, and therefore, I mustn’t keep any secrets from you . . .

Speak but low, I beg of you, Alice stammered, filled with fear.

Why? Who can hear us? The count said, looking around.

My aunt Laura; remember she’s such a snoop and loves to gossip with all the old women.

Oh well! You’re right. I hadn’t thought of her. The count said, smiling.

At that moment the door opened and it was Laura.

Alice, she said, I have to leave for a moment while the count of Marillac is with you so as not to leave you alone.

Alice reached a point of almost letting out a scream of desperation. She had tried her best not to pronounce the count’s name aloud and Laura shouted it for everyone to hear.

You may go in peace. The count said.

No! Don’t go out! Don’t move from here! Alice shouted, being beside herself.

Oh, Alice! The young man exclaimed. Don’t you trust me?

I? She said. Of course I do.

And making an effort to seem at ease, she exclaimed Go, go, aunt, but come back quickly.

Oh! The old woman Laura said, With the count being here, I’m in no rush.

An instant later the count of Marillac heard how the outside door of the house was being closed.

At last we’re alone. The count said, smiling. Now I’ll give you proof of my trust.

In a desperate attempt to prevent him from talking, she took Marillac by the hand dragging him away saying Come with me, I’m going to show you my room, since you’ve never seen it.

The young man shook and a wave of blood rushed to his head, but immediately he recovered his composure for the respect he had in his fiancée. He reproached the thought that it had crossed his mind, and to escape a similar temptation, he rushed to tell her Let’s stay here; I only have a few minutes. Do you know who’s waiting for me, Alice? The king of Navarra! Yes, the king in person! They’re part of the group of Admiral Coligny and prince of Condé, who’ve gathered on the street of Bethisy.

We’re damned! Alice said to herself.

And that’s not even counting the expected presence of the marshal Francis of Montmorency.

Alice began to tremble and if the count, upon seeing her, would not have gotten scared, doubtless he could have heard a sound similar to a drowned exclamation so near him behind the door.

What’s wrong, Alice? The count exclaimed. Why do you turn so pale? Do you feel ill?

I, no, no . . . or maybe . . . yes, really . . . I’m not feeling well.

For a moment Alice wondered if a faked fainting would not be the best solution, but her quick wittedness realized that if she did it, Déodat would look around all over the house for water and very likely would open the first door that he saw, discovering Henry of Montmorency hiding behind it, and thus defeating the purpose of the ruse altogether.

It’s over! I often have blackouts!

Poor, angel! Don’t be afraid; I’ll make your life so beautiful and sweet that all these nuisances will go away.

Yes, let’s talk about the future, my love.

It’s time for me to leave, Alice. He said. You know that they wait for me. Today great resolutions will be taken, and if our plan succeeds, there will be no more wars, and then, Alice, we won’t get separated ever again; you’ll be my woman and our happiness will be forever. Alice, listen carefully, it’s about nothing less that the kidnapping of King Charles IX and of imposing our conditions.

This time, Alice let out a shout and, so that the count wouldn’t continue, exclaimed Silence! My aunt is coming.

And such was the coincidence that the door opened and it was Laura.

Alice spoke those words with the sole purpose of hushing the count. If she had been less perturbed, doubtless that she would have asked herself why she did not hear the outside door of the house getting opened and the coincidence of Laura’s appearance with her words.

As far as the count was concerned, he was aware that the old woman had just entered.

Thus then, he added as if continuing a conversation already in progress tomorrow we won’t see each other. You know, my dear friend, the trip I must take.

Go in peace, my dear count, she mumbled. And may Heaven guide your steps.

As it was his custom, Marillac, when he was in Laura’s presence, shook his fiancée’s hand. And she, as it was her habit, accompanied him to the street while her aunt remained in the house. Over there, they said goodbye to each other with a passionate kiss.

My friend, Alice mumbled, these blackouts that sometimes afflict me aren’t without motive. I’ve been disquieted for the past few days; I dream terrible things and sinister thoughts assault me.

Baby-girl! Marillac exclaimed.

Do you love me? She asked, putting all her soul in this question.

How can you doubt it?

Very well Alice said with such vehemence as to alarm the young man. If really your heart and life are mine, I urgently beg of you to keep your guard up without getting distracted for a moment. Be distrustful of everyone in the world. If your father were here he’ll tell you not to trust in him and even more I tell you not to trust me either as well.

And as he tried to shut her mouth with a kiss she added Who knows? Maybe in between dreams a word might escape me imprudently. Oh, Déodat! Swear to me that before you venture on a street you’ll check the sidewalks. Swear to me that you’ll keep away from inoffensive passersby, and that you’ll check behind the walls before saying anything just as you must assure me that there will be no poison in the water you drink and fruits you eat. Swear it to me!

Very well, I swear it to you,