“Have you repented following my advice to-day?” “No, par le mordieu.” “Then do what I tell you.” Henri gave the order to Crillon, who set off at once. “And you?” said Henri. “Oh! I am waiting for my saint.” “And you will rejoin me at the Louvre?” “In an hour; go, my son.” Henri went; and Chicot, proceeding to the stables, met Gorenflot coming out on his ass. The poor devil had not an idea of endeavoring to escape from the fate that he thought awaited him. “Come, come,” said Chicot, “we are waited for.” Gorenflot made no resistance, but he shed many tears. CHAPTER XCIII. WHERE CHICOT GUESSES WHY D’EPERNON HAD BLOOD ON HIS FEET AND NONE IN HIS CHEEKS. The king, returning to the Louvre, found his friends peacefully asleep, except D’Epernon, whose bed was empty. “Not come in yet; how imprudent,” murmured the king to Chicot, who had also returned, and was standing with them by their beds. “The fool; having to fight to-morrow with a man like Bussy, and to take no more care than this. Let them seek M. d’Epernon,” said he, going out of the room, and speaking to an usher. “M. d’Epernon is just coming in, sire,” replied the man. Indeed, D’Epernon came softly along, thinking to glide unperceived to his room. On seeing the king he looked confused. “Ah! here you are at last,” said Henri; “come here and look at your friends. They are wise! they understand the importance of the duel to-morrow; but you, instead of praying and sleeping like them, have been running about the streets. Corbleu; how pale you are! What will you look like to-morrow?” D’Epernon was indeed pale, but at the king’s remark he colored. “Now go to bed,” continued Henri, “and sleep if you can.” “Why not?” “Much time you will have. You are to fight at daybreak; and at this time of year the sun rises at four. It is now two; you have but two hours to sleep.” “Two hours well employed go a long way.” “You will sleep, then?” “Well, sire!” “I do not believe it.” “Why not?” “Because you are agitated; you think of to-morrow.” “I will sleep, sire, if your majesty will only let me.” “That is just,” said Chicot. Indeed D’Epernon undressed and got into bed, with a calm and satisfied look, that seemed, both to the king and Chicot to augur well. “He is as brave as a Cæsar,” said the king. “So brave that I do not understand it,” said Chicot. “See, he sleeps already.” Chicot approached the bed to look. “Oh!” said he. “What is it?” “Look,” and he pointed to D’Epernon’s boots. “Blood!” “He has been walking in blood.” “Can he be wounded?” said the king, anxiously. “Bah! he would have told us; and, besides, unless he had been wounded like Achilles in the heel----” “See, the sleeve of his doublet is also spotted. What can have happened to him?” “Perhaps he has killed some one to keep his hand in.” “It is singular. Well, to-morrow, at least----” “To-day, you mean.” “Well! to-day I shall be tranquil.” “Why so?” “Because those cursed Angevins will be killed.”