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"Well! so be it. Let us trust that G.o.d will give us the victory.
But let us prepare for the conflict in a Christian manner. If I had time, I would send all your swords to Rome, that the Pope might bless them. But we have the shrine of St. Genevieve, which contains most precious relics: let us fast, and do penance, and keep holy the great day of the Fete Dieu, and then the next day----"
"Ah! sire, thanks; that is in eight days!" cried the young men.
And they seized the hands of the king, who embraced them all once more, and, going into his oratory, melted into tears.
"Our cartel is ready," said Quelus, "we have but to add the day and hour. Write, Maugiron, the day after the Fete Dieu. Here is a table."
"It is done," said Maugiron, "now who will carry the letter?"
"I will, if you please," said Chicot, approaching, "but I wish to give you a piece of advice. His majesty speaks of fasts and macerations. That is all very well after the combat, but before, I prefer good nourishment, generous wine, and eight hours' sleep every night."
"Bravo, Chicot!"
"Adieu, my little lions," replied the Gascon, "I go to the Hotel Bussy." He went three steps and returned, and said, "Apropos, do not quit the king during the Fete Dieu; do not go to the country, any of you, but stay by the Louvre. Now, I will do your commission."
CHAPTER Lx.x.xV.
THE FeTE DIEU.
During these eight days events were preparing themselves, as a tempest gathers in the heavens during the calm days of summer.
Monsoreau had an attack of fever for twenty-four hours, then he rallied, and began to watch, himself; but as he discovered no one, he became more than ever convinced of the hypocrisy of the Duc d'Anjou, and of his bad intentions with regard to Diana.
Bussy did not discontinue his visits by day, but, warned by Remy of this constant watchfulness, came no more at night to the window.
Chicot divided his time between the king, whom he watched like a child, and his friend Gorenflot, whom he had persuaded to return to his convent. He pa.s.sed hours with him in his cell, always bringing with him large bottles in his pocket, and the report begin to be spread that Gorenflot had nearly persuaded him to turn monk.
As for the king, he gave constant lessons in fencing to his friends, teaching them new thrusts, and, above all, exercising D'Epernon, to whom fate had given so skilful an adversary, that he was visibly preoccupied by it.
Any one walking in the streets of Paris at certain hours, might have met the strange monks, of whom our first chapters furnished some description, and who resembled troopers more than monks.
Then, to complete the picture, we must add that the Hotel de Guise had become at once mysterious and turbulent, the most peopled within and the most deserted without that can be imagined; that meetings were held every night in the great hall, and with all the blinds and windows hermetically closed, and that these meetings were preceded by dinners, to which none but men were invited, and which were presided over by Madame de Montpensier. Of all these meetings, however, important though they were, the police suspected nothing. On the morning of the great day, the weather was superb, and the flowers which filled the streets sent their perfumes through the air. Chicot, who for the last fortnight had slept in the king's room, woke him early; no one had yet entered the royal chamber.
"Oh, Chicot!" cried the king, "you have woke me from one of the sweetest dreams I ever had in my life."
"What was it, my son?"
"I dreamed that Quelus had run Antragues through the body, and was swimming in the blood of his adversary. Let us go and pray that my dream may be realized. Call, Chicot, call."
"What do you want?"
"My hair-cloth and my scourge."
"Would you not prefer a good breakfast?"
"Pagan, would you go to hear ma.s.s on the Fete Dieu with a full stomach?"
"Even so."
"Call, Chicot."
"Patience; it is scarcely eight o'clock, and you will have plenty of time to scourge yourself. Let us talk first. Converse with your friend; you will not repent it, Valois, on the faith of a Chicot."
"Well, talk; but be quick."
"How shall we divide our day, my son?"
"Into three parts."
"In honor of the Trinity; very well, let me hear these three parts."
"First, ma.s.s at St. Germain l'Auxerrois."
"Well?"
"Return to the Louvre, for a collation."
"Very good."
"Then, a procession of penitents through the streets, stopping at the princ.i.p.al convente of Paris, beginning at the Jacobine and finis.h.i.+ng at St. Genevieve, where I have promised the prior to stay till to-morrow in the cell of a saint, who will pray for the success of our arms."
"I know him."
"The saint?"
"Yes, perfectly."
"So much the better; you shall accompany me, and we will pray together."
"Yes; make yourself easy."
"Then dress yourself, and come."
"Wait a little."
"What for?"
"I have more to ask."
"Be quick, then, for time pa.s.ses."
"What is the court to do?"
"Follow me."
"And your brother?"