THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre Dumas

by more than three or four.

      About a quarter-past eight they reached Bondy. The first thought of Charles IX. was to find out if the wild boar had held out.

      The boar was in his lair, and the outrider who had turned him aside answered for him. A breakfast was ready. The King drank a glass of Hungarian wine. Charles IX. invited the ladies to take seats at table, and in his impatience to pass away the time set out to visit the kennels and the roosts, giving orders not to unsaddle his horse, as he said he had never had a better or a stronger mount.

      While the King was taking this stroll, the Duc de Guise arrived. He was armed for war rather than for hunting, and was accompanied by twenty or thirty gentlemen equipped in like manner. He asked at once for the King, joined him, and returned talking with him.

      At exactly nine o’clock the King himself gave the signal to start, and each one mounted and set out to the meet. During the ride Henry found another opportunity to be near his wife.

      “Well,” said he, “do you know anything new?”

      “No,” replied Marguerite, “unless it is that my brother Charles looks at you strangely.”

      “I have noticed it,” said Henry.

      “Have you taken precautions?”

      “I have on a coat of mail, and at my side a good Spanish hunting knife, as sharp as a razor, and as pointed as a needle. I could pierce pistols with it.”

      “In that case,” said Marguerite, “God protect you!”

      The outrider in charge of the hunt made a sign. They had reached the lair.

      Chapter 30.

       Maurevel.

       Table of Contents

      While all this careless, light-hearted youth, apparently so at least, was scattering like a gilded whirlwind along the road to Bondy, Catharine, still rolling up the precious parchment to which King Charles had just affixed his signature, admitted into her room a man to whom, a few days before, her captain of the guards had carried a letter, addressed to Rue de la Cerisaie, near the Arsenal.

      A broad silk band like a badge of mourning hid one of the man’s eyes, showing only the other eye, two prominent cheek-bones, and the curve of a vulture’s nose, while a grayish beard covered the lower part of his face. He wore a long thick cloak, beneath which one might have imagined a whole arsenal. Besides this, although it was not the custom of those called to court, he wore at his side a long campaign sword, broad, and with a double blade. One of his hands was hidden beneath his cloak, and never left the handle of a long dagger.

      “Ah! you here, monsieur?” said the queen seating herself; “you know that I promised you after Saint Bartholomew, when you rendered us such signal service, not to let you be idle. The opportunity has arisen, or rather I have made it. Thank me, therefore.”

      “Madame, I humbly thank your majesty,” replied the man with the black bandage, in a reserved voice at once low and insolent.

      “A fine opportunity; you will not find another such in your whole life. Make the most of it, therefore.”

      “I am waiting, madame, only after the preamble, I fear”—

      “That the commission may not be much? Are not those who wish to advance fond of such commissions? The one of which I speak would be envied by the Tavannes and even by the De Guises.”

      “Ah! madame,” said the man, “believe me, I am at your majesty’s orders, whatever they may be.”

      “In that case, read,” said Catharine.

      She handed him the parchment. The man read it and grew pale.

      “What!” he exclaimed, “an order to arrest the King of Navarre!”

      “Well! what is there strange in that?”

      “But a king, madame! Really, I think — I fear I am not of sufficiently high rank.”

      “My confidence makes you the first gentleman of my court, Monsieur de Maurevel,” said Catharine.

      “I thank your majesty,” said the assassin so moved that he seemed to hesitate.

      “You will obey, then?”

      “If your majesty orders it, is it not my duty?”

      “Yes, I order it.”

      “Then I will obey.”

      “How shall you go to work?”

      “Why, madame, I do not know, I should greatly like to be guided by your majesty.”

      “You fear noise?”

      “I admit it.”

      “Take a dozen sure men, if necessary.”

      “I understand, of course, that your majesty will permit me to do the best I can for myself, and I am grateful to you for this; but where shall I arrest the King of Navarre?”

      “Where would it best please you to arrest him?”

      “In some place in which I should be warranted in doing so, if possible, even by his Majesty.”

      “Yes, I understand, in some royal palace; what do you say to the Louvre, for instance?”

      “Oh, if your majesty would permit it, that would be a great favor.”

      “You will arrest him, then, in the Louvre.”

      “In what part?”

      “In his own room.”

      Maurevel bowed.

      “When, madame?”

      “This evening, or rather to-night.”

      “Very well, madame. Now, will your majesty deign to inform me on one point?”

      “On what point?”

      “About the respect due to his position.”

      “Respect! position!” said Catharine, “why, then, you do not know, monsieur, that the King of France owes respect to no one in his kingdom, whoever he may be, recognizing no position as equal to his own?”

      Maurevel bowed a second time.

      “I insist on this point, however, madame, if your majesty will allow me.”

      “I will, monsieur.”

      “If the king contests the authenticity of the order, which is not probable, but”—

      “On the contrary, monsieur, he is sure to do so.”

      “He will contest it?”

      “Without a doubt.”

      “And consequently he will refuse to obey it?”

      “I fear so.”

      “And he will resist?”

      “Probably.”

      “Ah! the devil!” said Maurevel; “and in that case”—

      “In what case?” said Catharine, not moving her eyes from him.

      “Why, in case he resists, what is to be done?”

      “What do you do when you are given an order from the King, that is, when you represent the King, and when there is any resistance, Monsieur de Maurevel?”

      “Why, madame,” said the sbirro, “when I am honored with such an order, and when this order refers to a simple gentleman, I kill him.”

      “I told you, monsieur,” said Catharine, “and I scarcely think that sufficient time has elapsed for you to have forgotten it, that the