Chicot the Jester, Alexandre Dumas père [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗

by the window."

"Did you recognize him?"

"Yes."

"Name him, monseigneur, or I do not answer for myself."

The duke half smiled.

"M. le Comte," said he, "on my faith as a prince, on my soul, within a week I will tell you his name."

"You swear it."

"I swear it."

"Well, monseigneur, you have a week; but----" said he, touching the paper in his breast.

"Come back in eight days."

"Good! in eight days I shall have regained all my strength, ready for vengeance."


CHAPTER LXXXII.

A PROMENADE AT THE TOURNELLES.

In course of time the Angevin gentlemen had returned to Paris, although not with much confidence. They knew too well the king, his brother, and mother, to hope that all would terminate in a family embrace. They returned, therefore, timidly, and glided into the town armed to the teeth, ready to fire on the least suspicion, and drew their swords fifty times before the Hotel d'Anjou on harmless bourgeois, who were guilty of no crime but of looking at them. They presented themselves at the Louvre, magnificently dressed in silk, velvet, and embroidery. Henri III. would not receive them; they waited vainly in the gallery. It was MM. Quelus, Maugiron, Schomberg, and D'Epernon who came to announce this news to them, with great politeness, and expressing all the regrets in the world.

"Ah, gentlemen," said Antragues, "the news is sad, but, coming from your mouths, it loses half its bitterness."

"Gentlemen," said Schomberg, "you are the flower of grace and courtesy. Would it please you to change the reception which you have missed into a little promenade?"

"Ah! gentlemen, we were about to propose it."

"Where shall we go?" said Quelus.

"I know a charming place near the Bastile," said Schomberg.

"We follow you, go on."

Then the eight gentlemen went out, arm in arm, talking gaily on different subjects, until Quelus said, "Here is a solitary place, with a good footing."

"Ma foi, yes."

"Well! we thought that you would one day accompany us here to meet M. de Bussy, who has invited us all here."

"It is true," said Bussy.

"Do you accept?" said Maugiron.

"Certainly; we rejoice at such an honor."

"That is well," said Schomberg; "shall we each choose an opponent?"

"No," said Bussy, "that is not fair; let us trust to chance, and the first one that is free can join the others."

"Let us draw lots then," said Quelus.

"One moment," said Bussy, "first let us settle the rules of the game."

"They are simple; we will fight till death ensues!"

"Yes, but how?"

"With sword and dagger."

"On foot?"

"Oh, yes! on horseback one's movements are not so free."

"Then, on foot."

"What day?"

"The soonest possible."

"No," said D'Epernon, "I have a thousand things to settle and a will to make; I would rather wait five or six days."

"So be it."

"Then draw lots."

"One moment! divide the ground into four compartments, each for a pair."

"Well said."

"I propose for number one, the long square between the chestnuts; it is a fine place."

"Agreed."

"But the sun? one would be turned to the east."

"No," said Bussy, "that is not fair;" and he proposed a new position, which was agreed to.

Schomberg and Ribeirac came first. They were the first pair; Quelus and Antragues the second; then Livarot and Maugiron the third. D'Epernon, who saw himself left to Bussy, grew very pale.

"Now, gentlemen," said Bussy, "until the day of the combat, let us be friends. Will you accept a dinner at the Hotel Bussy?"

All agreed, and returned with Bussy to his hotel, where a sumptuous banquet united them till morning.


CHAPTER LXXXIII.

IN WHICH CHICOT SLEEPS.

The movements of the young men had been remarked by the king and Chicot. The king walked up and down, waiting impatiently for his friends to return; but Chicot followed them at a distance, and saw enough to be satisfied of their intentions. When he returned to the house he found the king, walking up and down, muttering.

"Ah! my dear friend! do you know what has become of them?" cried Henri.

"Whom? your minions?"

"Alas! yes, my poor friends."

"They must lie very low by this time."

"Have they been killed?" cried Henri; "are they dead?"

"Dead I fear----"

"And you laugh, wretch?"

"Oh! my son, dead drunk."

"Oh! Chicot, how you terrified me. But why do you calumniate these gentlemen?"

"On the contrary, I praise them."

"Be serious, I beg; do you know that they went out with the Angevins?"

"Of course, I know it."

"What was the result?"

"What I tell you; that they are dead drunk."

"But Bussy!"

"He is intoxicating them; he is a dangerous man."

"Chicot, for pity's sake----"

"Yes; Bussy has given a dinner to your friends; how do you like that?"

"Impossible! They are sworn enemies."

"Have you good legs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will you go to the river?"

"I would go to the end of the world to see such a thing."

"Well! go only to the Hotel Bussy."

"Will you accompany me?"

"Thank you, I have just come from there."

"But----"

"Oh! no; I, who have seen, do not need to be convinced. Go, my son, go. You disquiet yourself about your friends; you first pity them as if they were dead, and when you hear they are not dead, you are uneasy still----"

"You are intolerable, M. Chicot."

"Would you have preferred that they should each have had seven or eight wounds by a rapier?"

"I should like to be able to depend on my friends."

"Oh! ventre de biche, depend upon me; I am here, my son, only feed me. I want pheasant and truffles."

Henri and his only friend went to bed early, the king still sighing.

The next day, at the petite levee of the king, MM. Quelus, Schomberg, Maugiron, and D'Epernon presented themselves. Chicot still slept. The king jumped from his bed in a fury, and tearing off the perfumed mask from his face, cried, "Go out from here."

The young men looked at each other in wonder.

"But, sire, we wished to say to your majesty----"

"That you are no longer drunk, I suppose."

Chicot opened his eyes.

"Your majesty is in error," said Quelus, gravely.

"And yet I have not drunk the wine of Anjou."

"Oh! I understand," said Quelus, smiling.

"What?"

"If your majesty will remain alone with us, we will tell you."

"I hate drunkards and traitors."

"Sire," cried three of the gentlemen.

"Patience, gentlemen," said Quelus, "his majesty has slept badly, and had unpleasant dreams. A few words will set all right."

"Speak then, but be brief."

"It is possible, sire, but difficult."

"Yes; one turns long round certain accusations."

"No, sire, we go straight to it," replied Quelus, looking again at Chicot and the usher, as though to reiterate his request that they might be left alone. The king signed to the usher to leave the room, but Chicot said, "Never mind me, I sleep like a top," and closing his eyes again, he began to snore with all his strength.


CHAPTER LXXXIV.

WHERE CHICOT WAKES.

"Your majesty," said Quelus, "knows only half the business, and that the least interesting half. Assuredly, we have all dined with M. de Bussy, and to the honor of his cook, be it said, dined well. There was, above all, a certain wine from Austria or Hungary, which really appeared to me marvelous. But during the repast, or rather after it, we had the most serious and interesting conversation concerning your majesty's affairs."

"You make the exordium very long."

"How talkative you are, Valois!" cried Chicot.

"Oh! oh! M. Gascon," said Henri, "if you do not sleep, you must leave the room."

"Pardieu, it is you who keep me from sleeping, your tongue clacks so fast."

Quelus, seeing it was impossible to speak seriously, shrugged his shoulders, and rose in anger.

"We were speaking of grave matters," said he.

"Grave matters?"

"Yes," said D'Epernon, "if the lives of eight brave gentlemen are worth the trouble of your majesty's attention."

"What does it mean, my son?" said Henri, placing his hand on Quelus's shoulder.

"Well, sire, the result of our conversation was, that royalty is menaced--weakened, that is to say, that all the world is conspiring against you. Sire, you are a great king, but you have no horizon before you; the nobility have raised so many barriers before your eyes, that you can see nothing, if it be not the still higher barriers that the people have raised. When, sire, in battle one battalion places itself like a menacing wall before another, what happens? Cowards look behind them, and seeing an open space, they fly; the brave lower their heads and rush on."

"Well, then forward!" cried the king, "mordieu! am I not the first gentleman in my kingdom? Were they not great battles that I fought in my youth? Forward, then, gentlemen, and I will take the lead; it is my custom in the melee."

"Oh! yes, sire," cried the young men, with one voice.

"And," said Quelus, "against these ramparts which are closing round your majesty, four men will march, sure to be applauded by you, and glorified by posterity."

"What do you mean, Quelus?" cried the king, with eyes in which joy was tempered by solicitude; "who are these four men?"

"I, and these other gentlemen," replied Quelus, with pride; "we devote ourselves, sire."

"To what?"

"To your safety."

"Against whom?"

"Against your enemies."

"Private enmities of young men?"

"Oh! sire, that is the expression of vulgar prejudice; speak like a king, sire, not like a bourgeois. Do not profess to believe that Maugiron detests Antragues, that Schomberg dislikes Livarot, that D'Epernon is jealous of Bussy, and that I hate Ribeirac. Oh! no. They are all young, and agreeable, and might love each other like brothers: it is not, therefore, a rivalry between man and man, which places the swords in our hands; it is the quarrel of France with Anjou, the dispute as to the rights of the populace against the prerogatives of the king. We present ourselves as champions of royalty in those lists, where we shall be met by the champions of the League, and we came to say, 'Bless us, sire, smile on those who are going to die for you.' Your blessing will, perhaps, give us the victory, your smile will make us die happy."

Henri, overcome with emotion, opened his arms to Quelus and the others. He united them in his heart; and it was not a spectacle without interest, a picture without expression, but a scene in which manly courage was allied to softer emotions, sanctified by devotion. Chicot looked on, and his face, ordinarily indifferent or sarcastic, was not the least noble and eloquent of the six.

"Ah!" cried the king, "I am proud to-day, not of being King of France, but of being your friend; at the same time, as I know my own interests best, I will not accept a sacrifice, of which the result will deliver me up, if you fall, into the hands of my enemies.