France -- History -- Henry IV, 1589-1610 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
On the steps, the King, who, to disguise himself the better, had
borrowed one of my cloaks, stumbled and almost fell. This threw him
into a fit of laughter; for no sooner was he engaged in an adventure
which promised to be dangerous than his spirits invariably rose to
such a degree as to make him the most charming companion in peril man
ever had. He was still shaking, and pulling me to and fro in one of
those boyish frolics which sometimes swayed him, when a sudden outcry
inside the house startled us into sobriety, and reminded us all too
soon of the business which brought us thither.
Wondering what it might mean, I was about to rap on the door with my
hilt when the King put me aside, and, by a happy instinct, tried the
latch. The door yielded to his hands, and, slowly opening, gave us
admittance.
We found ourselves in a gloomy hall, ill-lit, and hung with patched
arras. In one corner stood a group of servants. Of these some looked
scared and some amused, but all were so much taken up with the
movements of a harsh-faced woman, who was pacing the opposite side of
the hall, that they did not heed our entrance. A momentary glance at
this strange state of things showed me that the woman was Madame
Nicholas; but I was still at a loss to guess what she was doing or
what was happening in the house.
I stood a moment, but finding she still took no notice of us, I
beckoned to one of the servants, and bade him tell his mistress a
gentleman would speak with her. The man went with the message; but she
sent him off with a flea in his ear, and screamed at him so violently
that for a moment I thought she was mad. Then it appeared that the
object of her attention was a door at the side of the hall; for,
stopping suddenly in her walk, she went up to it, and struck it
passionately with her hands.
"Come out!" she cried. "Come out, you villain!"
Restraining the King, I went forward myself, and, saluting her
politely, begged a word with her apart, thinking she would recognize
me.
Her answer, however, showed that she did not. "No!" she cried, waving
me off, in the utmost excitement. "No; you will not get me away--I
know you. You are as bad one as the other." Then turning again to the
door, she continued, "Come out! Do you hear! Come out! I'll have no
more of your intrigues and your Hallots!"
I pricked up my ears at the name "But, Madame," I said, "one moment."
"Begone!" she retorted, turning on me so wrathfully that I fairly
recoiled before her. "I shall stay here till I drop; but I will have
him out and expose him. There shall be an end of his precious plots
and his Hallots if I have to go to the King!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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