Nor was this all. I had never in the worst times blamed the King of Navarre for his denial of me, I had been foolish, indeed, seeing that it was in the bargain, had I done so; nor had I ever doubted his good-will or his readiness to reward me should occasion arise. Now, I flattered myself, I had given him that which he needed, and had hitherto lacked--an excuse, I mean, for interference in my behalf. Whether I was right or wrong in this notion I was soon to learn, for at this moment Henry’s cavalcade, which had left me a hundred paces behind, came to a stop, and while some of the number waved to me to come on, one spurred back to summon me to the king. I hastened to obey the order as fast as I could, but I saw on approaching that though all was at a standstill till I came up, neither the King of Navarre nor M. de Turenne was thinking principally of me. Every face, from Henry’s to that of his least important courtier, wore an air of grave preoccupation; which I had no difficulty in ascribing to the doubt present in every mind, and outweighing every interest, whether the King of France was dead, or dying, or merely wounded. ‘Quick, sir!’ Henry said with impatience, as soon as I came within hearing. ‘Do not detain me with your affairs longer than is necessary. M. de Turenne presses me to carry into effect the order I gave yesterday. But as you have placed yourself in jeopardy on my account I feel that something is due to you. You will be good enough, therefore, to present yourself at once at M. la Varenne’s lodging, and give me your parole to remain there without stirring abroad until your affair is concluded.’ Aware that I owed this respite, which at once secured my present safety and promised well for the future, to the great event that, even in M. de Turenne’s mind, had overshadowed all others, I bowed in silence. Henry, however, was not content with this. ‘Come, sir,’ he said sharply, and with every appearance of anger, ‘do you agree to that?’ I replied humbly that I thanked him for his clemency. ‘There is no need of thanks,’ he replied coldly. ‘What I have done is without prejudice to M. de Turenne’s complaint. He must have justice.’ I bowed again, and in a moment the troop were gone at a gallop towards Meudon, whence, as I afterwards learned, the King of Navarre, attended by a select body of five-and-twenty horsemen, wearing private arms, rode on at full speed to St. Cloud to present himself at his Majesty’s bedside. A groom who had caught the Cid, which had escaped into the town with no other injury than a slight wound in the shoulder, by-and-by met me with the horse; and in this way I was enabled to render myself with some decency at Varenne’s lodging, a small house at the foot of the hill, not far from the Castle-gate.