Henri reddened. "No," said he, "I prefer this time to be ignorant where the wrong lies, and to pardon everyone. I wish these enemies to make peace, and I am sorry that Schomberg and D'Epernon are kept at home by their wounds. Say, M. d'Anjou, which do you call the most forward to fight of all my friends, as you say you saw them?"

"Sire, it was Quelus."

"Ma foi! yes," said Quelus, "his highness is right."

"Then," said Henri, "let MM. Bussy and Quelus make peace in the name of all."

"Oh! Oh!" said Quelus, "what does that mean, sire?"

"It means that you are to embrace here, before me." Quelus frowned.

"Ah, signor," cried Bussy, imitating a pantaloon, "will you not do me this favor?"

Even the king laughed. Then, approaching Quelus, Bussy threw his arms round his neck, saying, "The king wishes it."

"I hope it engages us to nothing," whispered Quelus.

"Be easy," answered Bussy, "we will meet soon."

Quelus drew back in a rage, and Bussy, making a pirouette, went out of the gallery.

CHAPTER VI.

LE PEt.i.t COUCHER OF HENRI III.

After this scene, beginning in tragedy and ending in comedy, the king, still angry, went to his room, followed by Chicot, who asked for his supper.

"I am not hungry," said the king.

"It is possible, but I am."

The king did not seem to hear. He unclasped his cloak, took off his cap, and, advancing to the pa.s.sage which led to St. Luc's room, said to Chicot, "Wait here for me till I return."

"Oh! do not be in a hurry," said Chicot. No sooner was the king gone, than Chicot opened the door and called "Hola!"

A valet came. "The king has changed his mind," said Chicot, "he wishes a good supper here for himself and St. Luc, above all, plenty of wine, and despatch."

The valet went to execute the orders, which he believed to be the king's. Henri meanwhile had pa.s.sed into St. Luc's room. He found him in bed, having prayers read to him by an old servant who had followed him to the Louvre, and shared his captivity.

In a corner, on an armchair, his head buried in his hands, slept the page.

"Who is that young man?" asked the king.

"Did not your majesty authorize me to send for a page."

"Yes, doubtless."

"Well, I have profited by it."

"Oh!"

"Does your majesty repent of having allowed me this little indulgence?"

"No, no, on the contrary, amuse yourself, my son. How are you?"

"Sire, I have a fever."

"Really, your face is red; let me feel your pulse, I am half a doctor."

St. Luc held out his hand with visible ill-humor.

"Oh!" said the king, "intermittent--agitated."

"Yes, sire, I am very ill."

"I will send you my doctor."

"Thank you, sire, but I hate Miron."

"I will watch you myself. You shall have a bed in my room, and we will talk all night."

"Oh!" cried St Luc, "you see me ill, and you want to keep me from sleeping. That is a singular way to treat your patient, doctor."

"But you cannot be left alone, suffering as you are."

"Sire, I have my page, Jean."

"But he sleeps."

"That is what I like best, then he will not disturb me."

"Well, come and a.s.sist at my going to bed."

"Then I shall be free to come back to bed?"

"Perfectly."

"Well, so be it. But I shall make a bad courtier, I a.s.sure you; I am dying with sleep."

"You shall yawn at your ease."

"Sire, if your majesty will leave me, I will be with you in five minutes."

"Well, then, five minutes, but no longer."

As soon as the door was shut, the page jumped up. "Ah! St. Luc,"

cried she, "you are going to leave me again. Mon Dieu! I shall die of fright here, if they discover me."