“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 Hôtel 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 levée 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 mêlée.”
“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?”