Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1924)

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JANUARY L924 Pictures and Pichjrepuer 31 It was the fateful night of August 23.. 1572, in the gilded ball room of the Louvre. A thousand dancers had the floor. The strains of a hundred instruments were heard. Never before in history had there been a scene of such dazzling happiness for human eyes. And never before had blacker hearts beaten than hid behind this brilliance, used it, employed it as a mask-. Emperor of France was Charles the ninth. At least, he sat the throne. But Charles was weak, frail of body and frail of mind, a man easily swayed, won over. And well was the Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici, aware of the frailty of her son. He sat the throne, but she stood close behind. He signed the parchments, but she ruled the land. Charles the ninth, king of France, was still in his cradle; and Catherine, in just this solitary respect, was mother still. " Charles," she was whispering, even as the music played and the thousand dancers sped around the floor, "' Charles, the Huguenots must be exterminated — wiped out like so many rats. They are in our way — they plot for power and mean to have it. How shall you stand against them if they strike? Strike first! If you would have no enemies, kill the enemies you have. A word and the fire would be loose. Every Huguenot stronghold in Paris is marked. But give your name to it and the fire shall burn them to dust." But Charles, like all weak men, could not show even his weakness with any strength. He wavered. He implored his mother for time — he must think; he said he did not know, he could not decide. And at this his mother smiled. She could decide. She had decided. It needed but a little while. And she stooped and stroked his head and beamed on the crowding dancers. Meantime, the dancers danced on in ignorance. Huguenots were present — for Catherine did not believe in forearming the enemy by forewarnings, and some show of friendship was therefore kept up ; and among them was one Margot de Vainccoire, a light, vain and flippant creature who little deserved the love bestowed upon her by Rupert de Vrieac. Rupert, here too this night, was a Huguenot also; but he was a man first, and he was ever watchful of his lady. Wherefore when a courtier present sought to flirt with Margot, a hot word sprang with little bidding to Rupert's lips. And it sprang the readier for that this courtier was none other than Charles, Count de la Roche. The action was the touch of tinder to steel. Trifling as she was, unversed in anything but the lightest affairs of the capital, Mar got well knew that the families of Rupert and this Charles, the de Vrieacs and the de la Roches, had for manyyears been mortal enemies. " Was I contaminated by your touch?" demanded the Count. " You had that honour," retorted Rupert. " You shall have the further honour of crossing swords with me immediately in the Palace gardens." " I shall be delighted," sneered the Count ; and the two repaired forthwith to a quiet corner of the garden. Quiet, yet it might have been quieter. The Count viewed the little knots of idlers and lovers with dismay. " I am not yet on exhibition," he said. " What quieter place can we seek? All my usual haunts will be crowded to-night. Do you know of a place?" " There is an Inn, ' La Touchette,' that should serve us well," replied Rupert. "The Huguenot headquarters?" "Well?" " It will suffice. At least if I kill you there your friends will be saved the trouble of carrying you home. Come ! I am mighty considerate of your corpse !" The Inn ' La Touchette ' was in a quiet street of the city and in this hour was unfrequented. Upstairs was a long and empty room, an ideal duelling ground. Thither they went, and Margot, for all their protests, went too. In