Chicot the Jester

“Of having displeased me.”

“Sire, have our family quarrels need of witnesses?”

“You are right, monsieur. My friends, let me speak a little to my brother.”

“I will take Aurilly,” said Maugiron.

“Now we are alone, monsieur,” said the king, when they were gone.

“I waited for this moment impatiently.”

“And I also; ah, you want my crown, my worthy Eteocles; you made of the League a means, and of the throne an aim, and were consecrated in a corner of Paris, to be able to proclaim yourself to the Parisians shining with holy oil.”

“Alas! your majesty will not let me speak.”

“What for? – to lie, or to tell me things which I know already? But no, you would lie; for to confess what you have done, would be to confess that you merit death. You would lie, and I would spare you that shame.”

“My brother, is it your intention to overwhelm me with outrages?”

“If what I say is an outrage, it is I who lie, and I ask no better. Speak then, I listen; tell me you are not disloyal, and at the same time unskilful.”

“I do not know what your majesty means; you speak enigmas.”

“Then I will explain my words; you have conspired against me, as formerly you conspired against my brother Charles, only then it was by the aid of Henri of Navarre, and now it is with the assistance of the Duc de Guise. It is true that formerly you crawled like a serpent; now you wish to spring like the lion; after perfidy, open force; after poison, the sword.”

“Poison! what do you mean?” cried François, with flashing eyes.

“The poison with which you assassinated our brother Charles, which you destined for Henry of Navarre, your associate. That fatal poison is known; our mother has used it so often, which is doubtless the reason why you renounced it on this occasion, and preferred rather the part of captain of the League. But look me in the face, François, and learn that a man like you shall never kill me. A sword! Ah! I should like to see you here in this room alone with me, holding a sword. I have conquered you in cunning, and in a combat you would be killed. Dream no longer of struggling against me in any manner, for from this moment I act as king – as master – as despot; I shall watch you everywhere, follow you everywhere, and, at the least suspicion, I will throw you to the axe of my executioner. This is what I had to say to you in private, and I will order you to be left alone to-night to ponder over my words.”

“Then, sire, for a suspicion, I have fallen into disgrace with you?”

“Say, under my justice.”

“But, at least, sire, fix a term to my captivity, that I may know what to expect?”

“You will know when you hear your sentence read.”

“Can I not see my mother?”

“What for? There were but three copies in the world of the famous hunting-book which killed my poor brother, and of the two others, one is in London and the other at Florence. Besides, I am not a Nimrod, like my poor brother; adieu, François.”

“Gentlemen,” said the king, opening the door, “the Duc d’Anjou has requested to be alone to-night to reflect on an answer he has to make to me to-morrow morning. Leave him then alone, except occasional visits of precaution. If he be troublesome, call me; I have the Bastile ready, and the governor, M. Laurent Testu, is the best man in the world to conquer ill tempers.”

“Sire,” cried François, trying a last effort, “remember I am your – ”

“You were also the brother of Charles IX., I think.”

“At least restore me to my friends.”

“I deprive myself of mine to give them to you.” And Henri shut the door, while the duke fell in despair into his armchair.

CHAPTER LI.

HOW PEOPLE DO NOT ALWAYS LOSE THEIR TIME BY SEARCHING EMPTY DRAWERS

The scene which the duke had just had with the king made him regard his position as desperate. The minions had not allowed him to be ignorant of what had passed, and he had heard the people cry, “Vive le roi!” He felt himself abandoned by the other chiefs, who had themselves to save. In his quarrels with his brother Charles he had always had for confidants, or rather dupes, those two devoted men, Coconnas and La Mole, and, for the first time in his life, feeling himself alone and isolated, he felt a kind of remorse at having sacrificed them. During that time his sister Marguerite loved and consoled him. How had he recompensed her?

He had recently had near him a brave and valiant heart and sword – Bussy, the brave Bussy. And he had offended him to please Monsoreau, who had his secret, with which he always threatened him, and which was now known to the king. He had therefore quarreled with Bussy gratuitously, and, above all, uselessly, which as a great politician once said, “was more than a crime, it was a mistake!” How he would have rejoiced in his present situation, to know that Bussy was watching over him; Bussy the loyal, Bussy the universal favorite. It would have been probable liberty and certain vengeance.

But as we have said, Bussy, wounded to the heart, kept away from the prince, so the prisoner remained fifty feet above the ground, with the four favorites in the corridor, without counting the court full of Swiss. Besides this, one or other of the young men entered from time to time, and, without seeming even to notice the prince, went round the room, examined the doors and windows, looked under the beds and tables, and glanced at the curtains and sheets.

“Ma foi!” said Maugiron, after one of these visits, “I have done; I am not going to look after him any more to-night.”

“Yes,” said D’Epernon, “as long as we guard him, there is no need of going to look at him.”

“And he is not handsome to look at,” said Quelus.

“Still,” said Schomberg, “I think we had better not relax our vigilance, for the devil is cunning.”

“Yes, but not cunning enough to pass over the bodies of four men like us.”

“That is true,” said Quelus.

“Oh!” said Schomberg, “do you think, if he wants to fly, he will choose our corridor to come through? He would make a hole in the wall.”

“With what?”

“Then he has the windows.”

“Ah! the windows, bravo, Schomberg; would you jump forty-five feet?”

“I confess that forty-five feet – ”

“Yes, and he who is lame, and heavy, and timid as – ”

“You,” said Schomberg.

“You know I fear nothing but phantoms – that is an affair of the nerves.”

“The last phantom was,” said Quelus, “that all those whom he had killed in duels appeared to him one night.”

“However,” said Maugiron, “I have read of wonderful escapes; with sheets, for instance.”

“Ah! that is more sensible. I saw myself, at Bordeaux, a prisoner who escaped by the aid of his sheets.”

“You see, then?”

“Yes, but he had his leg broken, and his neck, too; his sheets were thirty feet too short, and he had to jump, so that while his body escaped from prison, his soul escaped from his body.”