"The King! His Majesty the King!"

Holding the Dauphin by the hand the Queen rose and advanced to meet the King, who entered, followed by half a dozen of his gentlemen. Henri was tall, strongly built, and carried himself royally; but there was a strange mixture of courage and weakness in his countenance. He was brave--no man could be found to deny that; but there was never a sparkle of intelligence in his dull eyes, though at times they shone with cunning, and his mouth was weak and sensual. That night he had supped in the apartments of Diane de Poitiers, and had evidently primed himself for this visit to the Queen, for his face was flushed and his voice thick.

"Your Majesty is unexpected, but all the more welcome for that," said the Queen as Henri touched her fingers with his lips. The King made some answer I did not hear, and led the Queen to a seat; then, patting the Dauphin's head much in the manner of one patting a spaniel's back, he looked around.

"_Birge_!" he said. "You are gay here. It was dull this evening at supper; she had the megrims."

A slight flush came into Catherine de Medicis' cheeks at this mention of the mistress, and her voice trembled a little.

"I trust madame will soon be better; but you, sire, will always find us gay here."

"It seems so. What was the particular jest? It might bring a smile to Diane's face when I tell her of it."

I moved back, so that I did not hear the Queen's answer, but Henri laughed loudly.

"A Court of Love! _Bigre_! 'Tis a new idea, and a good one. But where is our little ward? Present her."

Mademoiselle had to come forward, and when she had kissed hands the King said:

"I hear sad tales of you, mademoiselle; but there, never mind! You must not, however, break all our hearts. Faith!" and his feeble intellect wandered off to the one subject it could think of, "we will have a tourney in a fortnight, and the defenders shall wear your colours."

Mademoiselle blushed red, and began to stammer out something, whilst a few looks were exchanged between the courtiers that made my blood run hot. The Queen, however, interposed, and suddenly called for me.

"Monsieur d'Orrain!"

I stepped up, catching the look of astonishment in mademoiselle's eyes as she heard the name by which I was addressed.

"Permit me, your Majesty, to present to you the Chevalier d'Orrain. It is he who arranged the small matter you entrusted me with, and has, besides, shown himself a valiant gentleman. With your Majesty's permission I propose appointing him to my guards; M. de Lorgnac has a vacancy."

There was a little murmur, and as I knelt, the King extended his hand to me carelessly. As I rose to my feet, and was about to withdraw, he said, with a sudden recollection:

"Monsieur d'Orrain--the brother of the Vidame?"

I bowed, and Henri turned to the Queen, his face a.s.suming a severe expression; but Catherine de Medicis antic.i.p.ated his speech.

"It is so small a favour that I thought your Majesty would have no objection in view of M. d'Orrain's services. I do not, however, press it."

Henri hummed and hawed, and a curious, cunning expression came into his eyes.

"_Bigre_! It seems to me I have to grant favours from the moment I rise to the moment I lie down to sleep. But to tell the truth, madame, it was I who came here to ask a favour from you." And then he stopped, and his face flushed darker than ever as he went on, with a short laugh: "Come! let it be a bargain! If I grant you your request will you grant me mine?"

"a.s.suredly, sire!--even if you did not grant me mine."

"Oh! we will make it a bargain. Well, then, let it be as you wish with monsieur there." And turning to me: "And harkee, Chevalier! Keep your sword in your scabbard, and put your Geneva books in the fire, now that you have a new start."

"I thank you, sire!" said the Queen. "And your command----?"

She stopped, awaiting the King's answer; but Henri hesitated, and at last, bending forward, whispered a few words in the Queen's ear. The effect was instant. She became white and red in turns, and began to nervously clasp and unclasp her hands.

"Come!" said the King, with an affectation of gaiety; "it was a bargain, madame."

There was a pause, and then, with a voice as hard as steel, Catherine de Medicis said to her favourite maid-of-honour:

"Mademoiselle La Beauce--my jewel-casket--quick, please."

La Beauce bowed, and slipped away, and we all looked on in wonder at the strange scene. Presently she returned with a small but heavy casket in her hands. Catherine opened it with a key she detached from a chain she wore at her neck, and as the lid fell back the glittering splendour of the Crown diamonds of France was disclosed to view.

"They have been worn by a line of queens, sire," said Catherine as she placed the box in Henri's hands; "they ought well to become Madame Diane de Poitiers, and cure her megrims."

With this she made a profound bow, and withdrew. When she had gone there was an absolute silence; and then the King laughed, an uneasy, foolish laugh.

"And all this because I want to borrow a few stones for the masque!" he exclaimed as he thrust the box into the hands of one of his gentleman.

"Take this, Carnavalet!" And swinging round on his heel he went as he had come, his suite clattering behind him.

As he went we heard through the open doors the cries of "_Vive le Roi_!" from those in the gallery outside, and then all was still once more.

The salon, but a short time before so bright and gay, emptied like magic. I stood where I was, leaning against a pillar, wondering at the scene through which I had pa.s.sed, and hardly realising that I was alone. No, not alone, for mademoiselle stood before me, her hand outstretched.

"Oh, monsieur, this is a horrible place! Why did I ever come?"

I could say nothing, for she too had seen and heard all that had pa.s.sed.

"But it is not this I came to talk about. I waited so as to be able to congratulate M. Bertrand Broussel, the worthy citizen of Paris." And she laughed as she added: "I was sure of it from the first; I knew it could never be."

"May I also say that I was sure that Cujus the furrier never had a niece?"

She made a little impatient gesture with her hand. "I do not believe you will ever forget that, monsieur."

"Never."

"And you are not leaving Paris, then?" she asked after a moment's pause.

"I cannot now," I answered.

"Then," she laughed, "the furrier's niece and Monsieur Broussel will meet again. _Au revoir_, Chevalier!"

And she was gone.

CHAPTER XXI

THE HOUSE IN THE Pa.s.sAGE OF PITY

The next day, about the time appointed by La Marmotte, I presented myself at Maitre Barou, the armourer's, store. There was no one there except the old proprietor himself, and it was hard to say if he were Jew or Gentile as he stood behind the counter in the midst of his wares. I had sufficient excuse for my visit, and that was to purchase a breastplate of the pattern worn by the Queen's guards, in which I had been formally enrolled early in the day.

"_Bien_!" he said when I inquired for one, "I have one that will fit you, I think. It was bespoke by M. de Montorgueil----"