"Because I hunt to-morrow, and thought to take you with me."
"Sire, it would be a great honor, but--"
"Oh! this chase will rejoice all eyes; besides, I am a good hunter, and I wish you to see me to advantage."
"Sire, I am at your orders."
"Good! then it is settled. Ah! here is a page to disturb us."
"Some important business, sire?"
"Business at table! You think you are still at the court of France, my dear Chicot. Learn one thing; at Nerac, when we have supped, we go to bed."
"But this page?"
"Well, cannot he come for anything but business?"
"Ah! I understand: and I will go to bed."
Chicot rose; the king did the same, and took his arm. This haste to send him away appeared suspicious to Chicot, and he determined not to leave the room if he could help it.
"Oh! oh!" said he, tottering, "it is astonishing, sire."
The king smiled. "What is astonishing?"
"Ventre de biche! my head turns; while I sat still, it was all very well, but when I rise--"
"Bah!" said Henri, "we only tasted the wine."
"You call that tasting, sire? You are a drinker, and I do you homage, as to my superior."
"Chicot, my friend," said Henri, endeavoring to make out by one of his keen glances if Chicot were really drunk or pretending, "the best thing you can do is to go to bed."
"Yes, sire; good-night."
"Good-evening, Chicot."
"Yes, sire, you are right; the best thing Chicot can do is to go to bed." And he lay down on the floor.
Henri glanced toward the door, and then, approaching him, said, "You are so drunk, my poor Chicot, that you have taken my floor for your bed."
"Chicot does not mind little things."
"But I expect some one."
"For supper; yes, let us sup--" And Chicot made a fruitless effort to rise.
"Ventre St. Gris! how quickly you get drunk. But go along, mordieu! she is getting impatient."
"She, who?"
"The lady I expect."
"A lady; why did you not say, Henriquet? Ah! pardon, I thought I was speaking--to the king of France. He has spoiled me, that good Henriquet.
Ah! I will go."
"You are a gentleman, Chicot. Now go quickly."
"Adieu, sire; a good night to you."
"Adieu! and sleep well. You will find the page in the gallery, who will show you your room."
Chicot went out; but, after taking a few steps, returned just in time to see Henri let in--not a woman, but a man. Chicot put his eye to the large keyhole.
The man took off his hat, and Chicot saw the n.o.ble but severe face of Duplessis-Mornay, the rigid and vigilant counselor of Henri of Navarre.
"Ah!" thought Chicot, "this will annoy our lover more than I did."
But Henri"s face showed only joy; and after locking the door, he sat down eagerly to examine some maps, plans, and letters, which his minister had brought him. The king then began to write and to mark the maps.
"Oh! this is the way Henri of Navarre makes love," thought Chicot.
At this moment he heard steps behind him, and fearful of being surprised, he turned hastily away, and, seeing the page, asked for his room.
"Come with me, if you please, monsieur," said D"Aubiac, "and I will conduct you."
Chicot began to understand the king of Navarre. Therefore, instead of going to sleep, he sat somber and thoughtful on his bed, while the moon shed its silver light over stream and meadows.
"Henri is a real king, and he conspires," thought Chicot. "All this palace, park, town--the whole province--is a focus of conspiracy. All the women make love, but it is political love; and all the men live in the hope of a future. Henri is clever, his talent borders on genius, and he is in communication with Spain, the land of deceit. Who knows if even his n.o.ble answer to the amba.s.sador was not a farce, and if he did not warn the amba.s.sador of it by some sign unknown to me? Henri has spies; those beggars were nothing more nor less than gentlemen in disguise.
Those pieces of gold, so artistically cut, were pledges of recognition--rallying signs.
"Henri feigns to care for nothing but love and pleasure, and then pa.s.ses his time working with Mornay, who never seems to sleep, and does not know what love means. Queen Marguerite has lovers, and the king knows it, and tolerates them, because he has need of them, or of her--perhaps of both. Happily, G.o.d, in giving him the genius for intrigue, did not add to it that of war; for they say he is afraid of the noise of musketry, and that when he was taken, when quite young, to battle, he could not stay more than a quarter of an hour in the saddle. It is lucky, for if he had the arm, as well as the head, this man might do anything.
"There is certainly the Duc de Guise, who has both, but he has the disadvantage of being known as brave and skillful, so that every one is on their guard against him, while no one fears the Bearnais. I alone have seen through him. Well, having seen through him, I have no more to do here; so while he works or sleeps, I will go quietly out of the city.
There are not many amba.s.sadors, I think, who can boast of having fulfilled their mission in one day, as I have. So I will leave Nerac, and gallop till I am in France." And he began to put on his spurs.
CHAPTER LI.
CHICOT"S ASTONISHMENT AT FINDING HIMSELF SO POPULAR IN NERAC.
Chicot, having taken his resolution, began to prepare his little packet.
"How much time will it take me," thought he, as he did so, "to carry to the king the news of what I have seen and fear? Two days to arrive at a city whence the governor can send couriers; Cahors, for example, of which Henri of Navarre thinks so much. Once there, I can rest, for after all a man must rest some time. Come, then, Chicot, speed and sang froid.
You thought you had accomplished your mission, and you are but half-way through it."