“What great day?”
“That of the Fête Dieu.”
“Ita,” replied Gorenflot; it was the only Latin word he knew, and used it on all occasions. “But give me some money to bestow in alms in a Christian manner.”
“You have your text, have you not, dear brother?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Confide it to me.”
“Willingly, but to you alone; it is this: ‘The flail which threshes the corn.’”
“Oh, magnificent! sublime!” cried the prior.
“Now, my father, am I free?”
“Yes, my son, go and walk in the way of the Lord.”
Gorenflot saddled Panurge, mounted him with the aid of two vigorous monks, and left the convent about seven in the evening. It was the same day on which St. Luc arrived at Paris from Méridor.
Gorenflot, having passed through the Rue St. Etienne, was going to have turned to the right, when suddenly Panurge stopped; a strong hand was laid on his croup.
“Who is there?” cried Gorenflot, in terror.
“A friend.”
Gorenflot tried to turn, but he could not.
“What do you want?” said he.
“Will my venerable brother show me the way to the Corne d’Abondance?”
“Morbleu! it is M. Chicot,” cried Gorenflot, joyfully.
“Just so; I was going to seek you at the convent, when I saw you come out, and followed you until we were alone. Ventre de biche! how thin you are!”
“But what are you carrying, M. Chicot?” said the monk, “you appear laden.”
“It is some venison which I have stolen from the king.”
“Dear M. Chicot! and under the other arm?”
“A bottle of Cyprus wine sent by a king to my king.”
“Let me see!”
“It is my wine, and I love it much; do not you, brother?”
“Oh! oh!” cried Gorenflot, raising his eyes and hands to Heaven, and beginning to sing in a voice which shook the neighboring windows. It was the first time he had sung for a month.
CHAPTER LXXIII.
DIANA’S SECOND JOURNEY TO PARIS
Let us leave the two friends entering the Corne d’Abondance, and return to the litter of M. Monsoreau and to Bussy, who set out with the intention of following them. Not only is it not difficult for a cavalier well mounted to overtake foot travelers, but it is difficult not to pass them. This happened to Bussy.
It was the end of May, the heat was great, and about noon M. de Monsoreau wished to make a halt in a little wood, which was near the road, and as they had a horse laden with provisions, they remained there until the great heat of the day had gone by. During this time Bussy passed them, but he had not traveled, as we may imagine, without inquiring if a party on horseback, and a litter carried by peasants, had been seen. Until he had passed the village of Durtal, he had obtained the most satisfactory information, and, convinced that they were before him, had ridden on quickly. But he could see nothing of them, and suddenly all traces of them vanished, and on arriving at La Flèche he felt certain he must have passed them on the road. Then he remembered the little wood, and doubted not that they had been resting there when he passed. He installed himself at a little inn, which had the advantage of being opposite the principal hotel, where he doubted not that Monsoreau would stop; and he remained at the window watching. About four o’clock he saw a courier arrive, and half an hour afterwards the whole party. He waited till nine o’clock, and then he saw the courier set out again, and after him the litter, then Diana, Rémy, and Gertrude on horseback. He mounted his horse and followed them, keeping them in sight. Monsoreau scarcely allowed Diana to move from his side, but kept calling her every instant. After a little while, Bussy gave a long, shrill whistle, with which he had been in the habit of calling his servants at his hotel. Rémy recognized it in a moment. Diana started, and looked at the young man, who made an affirmative sign; then he came up to her and whispered:
“It is he!”
“Who is speaking to you, madame?” said Monsoreau.
“To me, monsieur?”
“Yes, I saw a shadow pass close to you, and heard a voice.”
“It is M. Rémy; are you also jealous of him?”
“No, but I like people to speak out, it amuses me.”
“There are some things which cannot be said aloud before M. le Comte, however,” said Gertrude, coming to the rescue.
“Why not?”
“For two reasons; firstly, because some would not interest you, and some would interest you too much.”
“And of which kind is what M. Rémy has just whispered?”
“Of the latter.”
“What did Rémy say to you, madame?”
“I said, M. le Comte, that if you excite yourself so much, you will be dead before we have gone a third of the way.”
Monsoreau grew deadly pale.
“He is expecting you behind,” whispered Rémy, again, “ride slowly, and he will overtake you.”
Monsoreau, who heard a murmur, tried to rise and look back after Diana.
“Another movement like that, M. le Comte, and you will bring on the bleeding again,” said Rémy.
Diana turned and rode back a little way, while Rémy walked by the litter to occupy the count. A few seconds after, Bussy was by her side.
“You see I follow you,” said he, after their first embrace.
“Oh! I shall be happy, if I know you are always so near to me.”