From the Memoirs of a Minister of FranceWeyman, Stanley John
General
From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
Weyman, Stanley John
Biographical fiction; France -- Kings and rulers -- Fiction; Henry IV, King of France, 1553-1610 -- Fiction
As a fact, the King, on that day wishing to discuss with me the
preparations for the Queen's entry, bade me keep close to him, since he
had more inclination for my company than the chase. But the crowd that
attended him was so large, the day being fine and warm--and comprised,
besides, so many ladies, whose badinage and gaiety he could never
forego--that I found him insensibly drawn from me. Far from being
displeased, I was glad to see him forget the moodiness which had of
late oppressed him; and beyond keeping within sight of him, gave up,
for the time, all thought of affairs, and found in the beauty of the
spectacle sufficient compensation. The bright dresses and waving
feathers of the party showed to the greatest advantage, as the long
cavalcade wound through the heather and rocks of the valley below the
Apremonts; and whether I looked to front or rear--on the huntsmen, with
their great horns, or the hounds straining in the leashes--I was
equally charmed with a sight at once joyous and gallant, and one to
which the calls of duty had of late made me a stranger.
On a sudden a quarry was started, and the company, galloping off
pell-mell, with a merry burst of music, were in a moment dispersed,
some taking this track, and others that, through the rocks and DEBRIS
that make that part of the forest difficult. Singling out the King, I
kept as near him as possible until the chase led us into the Apremont
coverts, where, the trees growing thickly, and the rides cut through
them being intricate, I lost him for a while. Again, however, I caught
sight of him flying down a ride bordered by dark-green box-trees,
against which his white hunting coat showed vividly; but now he was
alone, and riding in a direction which each moment carried him farther
from the line of the chase, and entangled him more deeply in the forest.
Supposing that he had made a bad cast and was in error, I dashed the
spurs into my horse, and galloped after him; then, finding that he
still held his own, and that I did not overtake him, but that, on the
contrary, he was riding at the top of his speed, I called to him. "You
are in error, sire, I think!" I cried. "The hounds are the other way!"
He heard, for he raised his hand, and, without turning his head, made
me a sign; but whether of assent or denial, I could not tell. And he
still held on his course. Then, for a moment, I fancied that his horse
had got the better of him, and was running away; but no sooner had the
thought occurred to me than I saw that he was spurring it, and exciting
it to its utmost speed, so that we reached the end of that ride, and
rushed through another and still another, always making, I did not fail
to note, for the most retired part of the forest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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