“Sire, be moderate; there is certainly some one who slanders me to you.” “Wretch! you shall die of hunger in a cell of the Bastile!” “I bow to your orders, whatever they may be.” “Hypocrite! But where were you?” “Sire, I was serving your majesty, and working for the glory and tranquillity of your reign.” “Really! your audacity is great.” “Bah!” said Chicot, “tell us about it, my prince; it must be curious.” “Sire, I would tell your majesty, had you treated me as a brother, but as you have treated me as a criminal, I will let the event speak for itself.” Then, bowing profoundly to the king, he turned to Crillon and the other officers, and said, “Now, which of you gentlemen will conduct the first prince of the blood to the Bastile?” Chicot had been reflecting, and a thought struck him. “Ah!” murmured he, “I believe I guess now why M. d’Epernon had so much blood on his feet and so little in his cheeks.” CHAPTER XCIV. THE MORNING OF THE COMBAT. The king did not sleep all night, and very early in the morning he set off, accompanied by Chicot, to examine the ground where the combat was to take place. “Quelus will be exposed to the sun,” said he; “he will have it at his right, just in his only eye; whereas Maugiron, who has good eyes, will be in the shade. That is badly managed. As for Schomberg, his place is good; but Quelus, my poor Quelus!” “Do not torment yourself so, my king, it is useless.” “And D’Epernon; I am really unjust not to think of him; he, who is to fight Bussy. Look at his place, Chicot, he who will have to give way constantly, for Bussy is like a tiger, he has a tree on his right and a ditch on his left.” “Bah!” said Chicot, “I am not concerned about D’Epernon.” “You are wrong; he will be killed.” “Not he; be sure he has taken precautions.” “How so?” “He will not fight.” “Did you not hear what he said before going to bed?” “That is just why I think he will not fight.” “Incredulous and distrustful!” “I know my Gasçon, Henri; but if you will take my advice, you will return to the Louvre.” “Do you think I can stay there during the combat?” “I do not wish you not to love your friends, but I do wish you not to leave M. d’Anjou alone at the Louvre.” “Is not Crillon there?” “Crillon is only a buffalo--a rhinoceros--a wild boar; while your brother is the serpent, whose strength lies in his cunning.” “You are right; I should have sent him to the Bastile.” When Chicot and the king entered, the young men were being dressed by their valets. “Good morning, gentlemen,” said he; “I find you all in good spirits, I hope?” “Yes, sire,” said Quelus. “You look gloomy, Maugiron.” “Sire, I am superstitious, and I had bad dreams last night, so I am drinking a little wine to keep up my spirits.” “My friend, remember that dreams are the impressions of the previous day, and have no influence on the morrow.”