Читать книгу The Power And The Glory - Gilbert Parker - Страница 7

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With letters of commendation from Frontenac to Colbert, the great minister of King Louis, La Salle, went to France, but Barbe Ranard preceded him, knowing his purposes.

She had naught save malice for La Salle. The Intendant had written to Colbert that La Salle was a madman and should receive no favors from the King. To the enmity of the priests was added the malice of a woman who had failed of her purpose, and who, in truth, cared for La Salle in her own vicious, curious way.

Her bitterness came from defeat. Her husband had made much money in Canada, and she felt that at court she could defeat La Salle at every corner. She knew well the Abbé Potin, who was a prominent figure at court, the confessor of De Montespan, and the faithful friend of the Jesuits of Canada, and to him she went on arrival.

The apartments of the Abbé were near those of the Prince de Conti, Louis Armand de Bourbon, a cousin of King Louis, and a younger brother of the great Condé who had influence at court and was a favorite of King Louis.

The Abbé lived outwardly with austerity, but he had luxurious tastes and, though a Jesuit, had license from the Pope to spend money freely for the good of the Church. He had a mind not wholly Eden-like and a great vanity, for he was handsome and his cassock was ever scrupulously clean and fitted well his lean and graceful figure.

“So, my charming madame, you have come back to the gilded cage,” he said to Barbe when she kissed his hand.

Her bright eyes shone as she said, “To the cage, yes, from the aviary, and it has nests of many strange birds.”

The Abbé caught her meaning and he motioned her to a seat. Then he looked at her meditatively for a moment and said, “So I have heard, and another of the birds is to visit the court soon.” He saw her surprise and added, “You see, I have the clairvoyant sense, pétite madame.”

“Is it clairvoyance or an excellent correspondent in Quebec?”

He smiled with a subtle look in his eyes. “I speak of a foe of my Order who is coming to France. His name is Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle, and he has a brother an abbé, an old acquaintance of mine. So I may be clairvoyant—eh!”

“Because I wished to pay humble respects to you, and to tell you of La Salle I come to you soon after I landed, Abbé. La Salle has come for favors from the court, and your Order in Canada and the Intendant wish to stay his hand.”

“And as a true daughter of the Order, you would serve us with your beauty and your intellect—eh, madame?”

She read the double meaning in his words, yet only a flash of resentment came to her eyes. Such men as he, long trained in court life, could not easily be deceived, and she replied, “All I am is at the service of our Order, so I come direct to you.”

Suddenly his manner changed. The careful, benignant look fled from his face and a steely expression came. He leaned a forearm on his knee and looked her steadily in the eyes:

“You wish me to help you, so let us bargain with clear minds. It is not our Order alone, though you are faithful to it, but you would not come to France at great expense for that alone. You hate La Salle, is it not so?”

She hesitated, then conquered by his infrangible mind and the danger of deception, she said:

“It is as you say, and for good reason.”

He smiled subtly. “I know. You would have done a good thing for our Order, and, resisting you, you loathed him, and now you would bring him to naught at the court of the King. Is it that?”

She had regained her composure and she looked at him with the eyes of a child, and her sensitive smiling mouth told what she felt more surely than her eyes.

“Yes, be sure it is that—but first it was for our Order.”

“And for the Intendant, the foe of La Salle and Frontenac?”

Now she flushed slightly and inclined her head.

“Yet you would have played with La Salle in spite of Duchesneau?”

“A woman is never sure of herself till she is tried to the full, M. l'Abbé.”

“Quite so, I understand. You have the big thing in you, and we shall find you successful at Court, Madame Barbe.”

He lingered over the last word, for it was a challenge of her purity of life. She understood, and she could not resist, for this man could help her in what she would do, and he was handsome and graceful, and if he had not been a priest—!

“With your help, dear Abbé, I hope to defeat La Salle. He is a menace to the good of that land where our Order ruled so well and so long. Under Laval's influence Canada did well; under Frontenac not so well. He grows rich with trade, and the land grows poorer. As Frontenac has increased, Canada has decreased.”

“I understand. We have now clear way to walk and we must find what to do. The great Colbert—you would meet him? I can get to him through his son, Marquis de Seignelay. I expect him here to day. His message said he wished to see me—I know not on what business.”

At that moment came a soft knocking on the door, and a Jesuit brother entered. He held a card in his hand. The Abbé took it.

“Admit him:”

She was about to leave, but the Abbé, tapping her cheek with a finger, said:

“No, meet him before you go. It is well worth while.”

Seignelay entered. He was to become Naval Minister soon. The Abbé saluted him with deference, and he turned to Barbe. The Abbé said: “Madam Ranard has just come from Quebec, Monsieur. May I present her?”

Seignelay gave Barbe his hand, which she kissed, then a curious look flashed across his face.

“I have heard of the fame and position of madame. Has she a special mission here?”

“If Monsieur would allow me to call on him one day I could make all clear. It could not be done in a few words. But may I, Monsieur?” Barbe added, with an ingratiating smile, for the minister looked like one who could be impressed by a clever, pretty woman. Yet a queer look came into the Abbé's eyes. He knew that Seignelay was not easily moved by women—had he not seen it with the friends of the King's favorites, Vallière, Fontanges, De Montespan and De Maintenon.

Seignelay said to her: “I shall welcome madame to-morrow at twelve noon at Versailles—if that may please?”

Barbe curtsied. “I will joy to wait upon Monseigneur,” and she met the enigmatical look in Seignelay's eyes with no real understanding. With a deep bow to them, both she left the room.

“You have known madame long, Abbé? Handsome but not of noble family, eh?”

“I have known her ten years, Monsieur. She is not of noble family, but she married one in the government—Rojet Ranard, Farmer of His Majesty's revenue.”

“Ah yes. I have heard—a man who blinks an eye, I fear. She plays a part with—one who matters in Canada. Now, Abbé”—with a friendly wave of the hand—“you can do the King's Government service by seeing the learned Abbé Renaudot. I would have him get from Madame Frontenac the latest inside news of her husband. He and she have not lived together many years, but she is a sagely clever woman, and she has, though poor, wide influence, yet she never appears at Court. She is the daughter of La Grange Trianon and once close friend of Montpensier, Louis' cousin, but they fell apart. She is still beautiful. She is devoted to his interests, and my father would know what Frontenac tells her about the Intendant and Indian affairs. They get official reports, but more is needed—if administration is to be handled well. Only one like Abbé Renaudot could gain her confidence, and he would do that for the King, of course.”

“Monsieur, I will do what I can. I know the abbé fairly well. We are all patriots, are we not?”

Seignelay took a pinch of snuff and offered his box to the Abbé. He ignored the remark about patriotism.

“There are bad days in Canada, Abbé.”

“Yet never better in France, Monsieur.”

“As you say, never better in France.”

“France has gone farther than in all her history—thanks to your father, Monseigneur Colbert, Monsieur.”

“Thanks to the King,” said Seignelay, with a reproving smile.