The next day they started early, and at noon were forced to stop to rest the horses. At two o"clock they set off again, and went on without stopping until four. A great forest, that of La Fere, was visible in the distance; it had the somber and mysterious aspect of our northern forests, so imposing: to southern natures, to whom, beyond all things, heat and sunshine are necessary; but it was nothing to Remy and Diana, who were accustomed to the thick woods of Anjou and Sologne. It might have been about six o"clock in the evening when they entered the forest, and after half an hour"s journey the sun began to go down. A high wind whirled about the leaves and carried them toward a lake, along the sh.o.r.e of which the travelers were journeying. Diana rode in the middle, Aurilly on the right, and Remy on the left. No other human being was visible under the somber arches of the trees.
From the long extent of the road, one might have thought it one of those enchanted forests, under whose shade nothing can live, had it not been for the hoa.r.s.e howling of the wolves waking up at the approach of night.
All at once Diana felt that her saddle, which had been put on by Aurilly, was slipping. She called Remy, who jumped down, and began to tighten the girths. At this moment Aurilly approached Diana, and while she was occupied, cut the strings of silk which fastened her mask.
Before she had divined the movement, or had time to put up her hand, Aurilly seized the mask and looked full at her. The eyes of these two people met with a look so terrible, that no one could have said which looked most pale and menacing. Aurilly let the mask and his dagger fall, and clasping his hands, cried, "Heavens and earth! Madame de Monsoreau!"
"It is a name which you shall repeat no more," cried Remy, seizing him by the girdle and dragging him from his horse. Both rolled on the ground together, and Aurilly stretched out his hand to reach his dagger.
"No, Aurilly, no," said Remy, placing his knee on his breast.
"Le Haudoin!" cried Aurilly; "oh, I am a dead man!"
"That is not yet true, but will be in a moment," cried Remy; and drawing his knife, he plunged the whole blade into the throat of the musician.
Diana, with haggard eyes, half turned on her saddle, and leaning on the pommel, shuddering, but pitiless, had not turned her head away from this terrible spectacle. However, when she saw the blood spurt out from the wound, she fell from her horse as though she were dead.
Remy did not occupy himself with her at that terrible moment, but searched Aurilly, took from him the two rouleaux of gold, then tied a stone to the neck of the corpse, and threw it into the lake. He then washed his hands in the water, took in his arms Diana, who was still unconscious, and placed her again on her horse. That of Aurilly, frightened by the howling of the wolves, which began to draw nearer, had fled into the woods.
When Diana recovered herself, she and Remy, without exchanging a single word, continued their route toward Chateau-Thierry.
CHAPTER LXXVII.
HOW KING HENRI III. DID NOT INVITE CRILLON TO BREAKFAST, AND HOW CHICOT INVITED HIMSELF.
The day after the events that we have just related had taken place in the forest of La Fere, the king of France left his bath at about nine in the morning. His valet-de-chambre, after having rolled him in a blanket of fine wool, and sponged him with that thick Persian wadding which looks like the fleece of a sheep, had given him over to the barbers and dressers, who in their turn gave place to the perfumers and courtiers.
When these last were gone, the king sent for his maitre d"hotel, and ordered something more than his ordinary bouillon, as he felt hungry that morning. This good news spread joy throughout the Louvre, and the smell of the viands was already beginning to be perceptible, when Crillon, colonel of the French guards, entered to take his majesty"s orders.
"Ma foi, my good Crillon," said the king, "watch as you please over my safety, but do not force me to play the king. I am quite joyful and gay this morning, and feel as if I weighed but an ounce, and could fly away.
I am hungry, Crillon; do you understand that, my friend?"
"I understand it very well, sire, for I am very hungry myself."
"Oh! you, Crillon," said the king, laughing, "are always hungry."
"Not always, sire; your majesty exaggerates--only three times a day."
"And I about once a year, when I receive good news."
"Harnibleu! it appears that you have received good news, sire? So much the better, for they become every day more rare."
"Not at all, Crillon; but you know the proverb."
"Ah! yes--"no news are good news." I do not trust to proverbs, and above all to that one. You have no news from Navarre, then?"
"None--a proof that there is nothing to tell."
"And from Flanders?"
"Nothing."
"A proof that they are fighting. And from Paris?"
"Nothing."
"A proof that they are plotting."
"But, Crillon, I believe I am going to have a child, for the queen dreamed so last night."
"Well! I am happy to hear that your majesty is hungry this morning.
Adieu, sire."
"Go, my good Crillon."
"Harnibleu! sire, since your majesty is so hungry, you ought to invite me to breakfast with you."
"Why so, Crillon?"
"Because they say your majesty lives on air, and the air of the times is very bad. Now I should have been happy to be able to say, "These are all pure calumnies; the king eats like every one else.""
"No, Crillon, no; let me believe as they do. I do not wish to eat like a simple mortal. Remember this, Crillon--a king ought always to remain poetical, and only show himself in a n.o.ble position. Thus, for example, do you remember Alexander?"
"What Alexander?"
"Alexander Magnus. Ah! you do not know Latin, I remember. Well, King Alexander loved to bathe before his soldiers, because he was so well made, handsome and plump that they compared him to Apollo and even to Antinous."
"Oh! oh! sire, you would be devilishly in the wrong to bathe before yours, for you are very thin, my poor king."
"Brave Crillon, go," said Henry, striking him on the shoulder; "you are an excellent fellow, and do not flatter me; you are no courtier, my old friend."
"That is why you do not invite me to breakfast," replied Crillon, laughing good-humoredly, and taking his leave quite contentedly, for the tap on the shoulder consoled him for not getting the breakfast.
When he was gone, the breakfast was laid at once. The maitre d"hotel had surpa.s.sed himself.
A certain partridge soup, with a puree of truffles and chestnuts, attracted the king"s attention, after he had eaten some fine oysters.
Thus the ordinary broth, that faithful old friend of the king"s, implored vainly from its golden basin; it attracted no attention. The king began to attack the partridge soup, and was at his fourth mouthful, when a light step near him made the floor creak, and a well-known voice behind him said sharply,
"A plate!"
The king turned. "Chicot!" cried he.
"Himself."
And Chicot, falling at once into his old habits, sat down in a chair, took a plate and a fork, and began on the oysters, picking out the finest, without saying a word.
"You here! you returned!" cried Henri.