Count Hannibal

"Silence!" Charles cried, darting forth his long arms in a fury of

impatience. "God, have I killed every man of sense? Are you all gone

mad? Silence! Do you hear? Silence! And let me hear what he has to

say," with a movement towards Count Hannibal. "And look you, sirrah," he

continued with a curse, "see that it be to the purpose!"

"If it be a question of your Majesty's service," Tavannes answered, "and

obedience to your Majesty's orders, I am deeper in it than he who stands

there!" with a sign towards the priest. "I give my word for that. And I

will prove it."

"How, sir?" Charles cried. "How, how, how? How will you prove it?"

"By doing for you, sire, what he will not do!" Tavannes answered

scornfully. "Let him stand out, and if he will serve his Church as I

will serve my King--"

"Blaspheme not!" cried the priest.

"Chatter not!" Tavannes retorted hardily, "but do! Better is he," he

continued, "who takes a city than he who slays women! Nay, sire," he

went on hurriedly, seeing the King start, "be not angry, but hear me! You

would send to Biron, to the Arsenal? You seek a messenger, sire? Then

let the good father be the man. Let him take your Majesty's will to

Biron, and let him see the Grand Master face to face, and bring him to

reason. Or, if he will not, I will! Let that be the test!"

"Ay, ay!" cried Marshal de Tavannes, "you say well, brother! Let him!"

"And if he will not, I will!" Tavannes repeated. "Let that be the test,

sire."

The King wheeled suddenly to Father Pezelay. "You hear, father?" he

said. "What say you?"

The priest's face grew sallow, and more sallow. He knew that the walls

of the Arsenal sheltered men whose hands no convention and no order of

Biron's would keep from his throat, were the grim gate and frowning

culverins once passed; men who had seen their women and children, their

wives and sisters immolated at his word, and now asked naught but to

stand face to face and eye to eye with him and tear him limb from limb

before they died! The challenge, therefore, was one-sided and unfair;

but for that very reason it shook him. The astuteness of the man who,

taken by surprise, had conceived this snare filled him with dread. He

dared not accept, and he scarcely dared to refuse the offer. And

meantime the eyes of the courtiers, who grinned in their beards, were on

him. At length he spoke, but it was in a voice which had lost its

boldness and assurance.

"It is not for me to clear myself," he cried, shrill and violent, "but

for those who are accused, for those who have belied the King's word, and

set at nought his Christian orders. For you, Count Hannibal, heretic, or

no better than heretic, it is easy to say 'I go.' For you go but to your

own, and your own will receive you!"