France -- History -- Henry III, 1574-1589 -- Fiction
At this noise the lovers must have turned and seen him, for the
cry of a woman was heard, and a rustling of the branches as they
ran away like startled deer. At this cry, Monsoreau felt cold
drops on his forehead, for he recognized Diana’s voice. Full of
fury, he jumped over the wall, and with his drawn sword in his
hand, tried to follow the fugitives, but they had disappeared,
and, there was not a trace or a sound to guide him. He stopped,
and considered that he was too much under the influence of passion
to act with prudence against so powerful a rival. Then a sublime
idea occurred to him; it was to climb back again over the wall,
and carry off with his own the horse he had seen there. He retraced
his steps to the wall and climbed up again; but on the other
side no horse was to be seen; his idea was so good, that before
it came to him it had come to his adversary. He uttered a howl
of rage, clenching his fists, but started off at once on foot.
In two hours and a half, he arrived at the gates of the city,
dying with hunger and fatigue, but determined to interrogate
every sentinel, and find out by what gate a man had entered with
two horses. The first sentinel he applied to said that, about
two hours before, a horse without a rider had passed through
the gate, and had taken the road to the palace; he feared some
accident must have happened to his rider. Monsoreau ground his
teeth with passion, and went on to the castle. There he found great
life and gaiety, windows lighted up, and animation everywhere. He
went first to the stable, and found his horse in the stall he
had taken him from; then, without changing his dress, he went
to the dining-room. The prince and all his gentlemen were sitting
round a table magnificently served and lighted. The duke, who
had been told of his arrival, received him without surprise,
and told him to sit down and sup with him.
“Monseigneur,” replied he, “I am hungry, tired, and thirsty; but
I will neither eat, drink, nor sit down till I have delivered
my important message.”
“You come from Paris?”
“Yes, in great haste.”
“Well, speak.”
Monsoreau advanced, with a smile on his lips and hatred In his
heart, and said, “Monseigneur, your mother is advancing hastily
to visit you.”
The duke looked delighted. “It is well,” said he; “M. de Monsoreau,
I find you to-day, as ever, a faithful servant; let us continue
our supper, gentlemen.”
Monsoreau sat down with them, but gloomy and preoccupied. He
still seemed to see the two figures among the trees, and to hear
the cry of Diana.
“You are overcome with weariness,” said the prince to him, “really,
you had better go to bed.”
“Yes,” said Livarot, “or he will go to sleep in his chair.”
“Pardon, monseigneur, I am tired out.”
“Get tipsy,” said Antragues; “there is nothing so good when you
are tired. To your health, count!”
“You must give us some good hunts,” said Ribeirac, “you know the
country.”
“You have horses and woods here,” said Antragues.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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