Chapter 60
1896 Parole
Chicot returned joyfully to the Louvre. It was a great satisfaction to him to have saved a brave gentleman like Bussy.
M. de Guise, after having received in the morning the principal Leaguers, who came to bring him the registers filled with signatures, and after having made them all swear to recognize the chief that the king should appoint, went out to visit M. d'Anjou, whom he had lost sight of about ten the evening before. The duke found the prince's valet rather unquiet at his master's absence, but he imagined that he had slept at the Louvre.
The Due de Guise asked to speak to Aurilly, who was most likely to know where his master was. Aurilly came, but stated he had been separated from the prince the evening before by a pressure of the crowd, and had come to the H ô tel d'Anjou to wait for him, not knowing that his highness had intended to sleep at the Louvre. He added that he had just sent to the Louvre to inquire, and that a message had been returned that the duke was still asleep.
"Asleep at eleven o'clock! not likely. You ought to go to the Louvre, Aurilly."
"I did think of it, monseigneur, but I feared that this was only a tale invented to satisfy my messenger, and that the prince was seeking pleasure elsewhere, and might be annoyed at my seeking him."
"Oh, no; the duke has too much sense to be pleasure-seeking on a day like this. Go to the Louvre; you will be sure to find him there."
"I will if you wish it; but what shall I say to him?"
"Say that the convocation at the Louvre is fixed for two o'clock, and that it is necessary that we should have a conference first. It is not at the time when the king is about to choose a chief for the League that he should be sleeping."
"Very well, monseigneur, I will beg his highness to come here."
"And say that I am waiting impatiently for him. Meanwhile I will go and seek M. de Bussy."
"But if I do not find his highness, what am I to do?"
"Then make no further search for him. In any event I shall be at the Louvre at a quarter before two."
Aurilly passed through the courtiers who crowded the Louvre, and made his way to the duke's apartments. At the door he found Chicot playing chess. Aurilly tried to pass, but Chicot, with his long legs blocked up the doorway. He was forced to touch him on the shoulder.
"Ah, it is you, M. Aurilly."
"What are you doing, M. Chicot?"
"Playing chess, as you see."
"All alone?"
"Yes, I am studying; do you play?"
"Very little."
"Yes, I know you are a musician, and music is so difficult an art, that those who give themselves to it must sacrifice all their time."
"You seem very serious over your game."
"Yes, it is my king who disquiets me; you must know, M. Aurilly, that at chess the king is a very insignificant person, who has no will, who can only go one step forward or back, or one to the right or left, while he is surrounded by active enemies, by knights who jump three squares at a time, by a crowd of pawns who surround him, so that if he be badly counseled he is a ruined king in no time, ma foi."
"But, M. Chicot, how does it happen that you are studying this at the door of his royal highness' room?"
"Because I am waiting for M. Quelus, who is in there."
"Where?"
"With his highness."
"With his highness! What is he doing there? I did not think they were such friends."
"Hush!" then he whispered in Aurilly's ear "he is come to ask pardon of the duke for a little quarrel they had yesterday."
"Really!"
"It was the king who insisted on it; you know on what excellent terms the brothers are just now. The king would not suffer an impertinence of Quelus's to pass, and ordered him to apologize."
"Really!"
"Ah! M. Aurilly, I think that we are entering the golden age; the Louvre is about to become Arcadia, and the two brothers Arcades ambo."
Aurilly smiled, and passed into the ante-chamber, where he was courteously saluted by Quelus, between whose hands a superb cup and ball of ebony inlaid with ivory was making rapid evolutions.
"Bravo! M. Quelus," said Aurilly.
"Ah! my dear M. Aurilly, when shall I play cup and ball as well as you play the lute?"
"When you have studied your plaything as long as I have my instrument. But where is monseigneur? I thought you were with him."
"I have an audience with him, but Schomberg comes first."
"What! M. de Schomberg, also!"
"Oh! mon Dieu; yes. The king settled all that. He is in the next room. Enter, M. Aurilly, and remind the prince that we are waiting for him."
Aurilly opened the second door and saw Schomberg reclining on a kind of couch, from which he amused himself by sending from a tube little balls of earth through a gold ring, suspended from the ceiling by a silk thread, while a favorite dog brought him back the balls as they fell.
"Ah! guten morgen, M. Aurilly, you see I am amusing myself while I wait for my audience."
"But where is monseigneur?"
"Oh! he is occupied in pardoning D'Epernon and Maugiron. But will you not enter, you who are privileged?"
"Perhaps it would be indiscreet."
"Not at all; enter, M. Aurilly, enter." And he pushed him into the next room, where the astonished musician perceived D'Epernon before a mirror, occupied in stiffening his mustachios, while Maugiron, seated near the window, was cutting out engravings, by the side of which the bas-reliefs on the temple of Venus Aphrodite would have looked holy.
The duke, without his sword, was in his armchair between these two men, who only looked at him to watch his movements, and only spoke to him to say something disagreeable: seeing Aurilly, he got up to meet him.
"Take care monseigneur," said Maugiron, "you are stepping on my figures."
"Mon Dieu!" cried the musician, "he insults my master!"
"Dear M. Aurilly," said D'Epernon, still arranging his mustachois, "how are you?"
"Be so kind as to bring me here your little dagger," said Maugiron.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, do you not remember where you are?"
"Yes, yes, my dear Orpheus, that is why I ask for your dagger; you see M. le Duc has none."
"Aurilly!" cried the duke, in a tone full of grief and rage, "do you not see that I am a prisoner?"
"A prisoner! to whom?"
"To my brother; you might know that by my jailers."
"Oh! if I had but guessed it."
"You would have brought your lute to amuse his highness," said a mocking voice behind them, "but I thought of it, and sent for it; here it is."
"How does your chess go on, Chicot?" said D'Epernon.
"I believe I shall save the king, but it is not without trouble. Come, M. Aurilly, give me your poniard in return for the lute; a fair exchange."
The astonished musician obeyed.
"There is one rat in the trap," said Quelus, who returned to his post in the antechamber, only exchanging his cup and ball for Schomberg's shooting tube.
"It is amusing to vary one's pleasures," said Chicot; "so for a change I will go and sign the League."
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE RECEPTION OF THE CHIEFS OF THE LEAGUE.
The time for the great reception drew near. Paris, nearly as tumultuous as the evening before, had sent towards the Louvre its deputation of leaguers, its bodies of workmen, its sheriffs, its militia, and its constantly-increasing masses of spectators.
The king, on his throne in the great hall, was surrounded by his officers, his friends, his courtiers, and his family, waiting for all the corporations to defile before him, when M. de Monsoreau entered abruptly.
"Look, Henriquet," said Chicot, who was standing near the king.
"At what?"
"At your chief huntsman; pardieu, he is well worth it. See how pale and dirty he is!"
Henri made a sign to M. de Monsoreau, who approached.
"How is it that you are at the Louvre, monsieur? I thought you at Vincennes."
"Sire, the stag was turned off at seven o'clock this morning, but when noon came, and I had no news, I feared that some misfortune had happened to your majesty, and I returned."
"Really!"
"Sire, if I have done wrong, attribute it to an excess of devotion."
"Yes, monsieur, and I appreciate it."
"Now," said the count, hesitatingly, "if your majesty wishes me to return to Vincennes, as I am reassured----"
"No, no, stay; this chase was a fancy which came into our head, and which went as it came; do not go away, I want near me devoted subjects, and you have just classed yourself as such."
Monsoreau bowed, and said, "Where does your majesty wish me to remain?"
"Will you give him to me for half an hour?" said Chicot to the king, in a low voice.
"What for?"
"To torment him a little. You owe me some compensation for obliging me to be present at this tiresome ceremony."
"Well, take him."
"Where does your majesty wish me to stand?" again asked M. de Monsoreau.
"Where you like; go behind my armchair, that is where I put my friends."
"Come here," said Chicot, making room for M. de Monsoreau, "come and get the scent of these fellows. Here is game which can be tracked without a hound. Here are the shoemakers who pass, or rather, who have passed; then here are the tanners. Mort de ma vie! if you lose their scent, I will take away your place."
M. de Monsoreau listened mechanically; he seemed preoccupied, and looked around him anxiously.
"Do you know what your chief huntsman is hunting for now?" said Chicot, in an undertone, to the king.
"No."
"Your brother."
"The game is not in sight."
"Just ask him where his countess is."
"What for?"
"Just ask."
"M. le Comte," said Henri, "what have you done with Madame de Monsoreau? I do not see her here."
The count started, but replied, "Sire, she is ill, the air of Paris did not agree with her; so having obtained leave from the queen, she set out last night, with her father, for M é ridor."
"Paris is not good for women in her situation," said Chicot.
Monsoreau grew pale and looked furiously at him.
"This poor countess!" continued Chicot, "she will die of ennui by the way."
"I said that she traveled with her father."
"A father is very respectable, I allow, but not very amusing; and if she had only that worthy baron to amuse her it would be sad; but luckily----"
"What!" cried the count.
"What?"
"What do you mean by 'luckily'?"
"Ah, it was an ellipsis I used."
The count shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, but it was. Ask Henri, who is a man of letters."
"Yes," said the king; "but what did your adverb mean?"
"What adverb?"
"'Luckily.'"
"'Luckily' means luckily. Luckily, then, there exist some of our friends, and very amusing ones, who, if they meet the countess, will amuse her, and as they are going the same way, it is probable they will. Oh, I see them from here; do you not, Henri; you, who are a man of imagination? There they go, on a good road, well mounted, and saying sweet things to Madame la Comtesse, which she likes very much, dear lady."
M. de Monsoreau was furious, but he could not show it before the king; so he said as mildly as he could, "What, have you friends traveling to Anjou?"
"Good; pretend to be mysterious."
"I swear to you----"
"Oh! you know they are there, although I saw you just now seeking for them mechanically among the crowd."
- Scrittore
