Ambroise Paré placed his left knee upon the duke's chest; then, leaning over, he took the wooden part of the lance in his hands, as he had said, and moved it to and fro, gently at first, afterwards with more force. The duke started as if in terrible pain. The faces of all who were present were pallid with horror. Ambroise himself stopped for a moment, as if afraid to proceed. The sweat of anguish moistened his forehead; but he set to work again almost immediately. After a minute, which seemed more than an hour long, the iron at last came from the wound. Ambroise Paré cast it away with a shudder, and quickly stooped over the yawning orifice. When he rose, his features were illuminated with a joyous light. But in a moment his serious mood returned, and falling on his knees, he raised his hands to God, while a tear of happiness rolled down his cheek. It was a sublime moment. Without a word from the great surgeon, every one understood that once more there was hope. The duke's attendants wept hot tears of joy, and some even kissed the skirt of Ambroise Paré's coat. But no one spoke, waiting for him to say the first word. He spoke at last, his grave voice trembling with emotion,-- "I will answer now for the life of Monseigneur de Guise." In an hour, in truth, the duke had recovered consciousness, and even the power of speech. Ambroise Paré finished dressing the wound; and Gabriel was standing beside the bed to which the surgeon had caused his august patient to be removed. "So, Gabriel," said the duke, "I owe to you not only the taking of Calais, but my life as well; for it seems that you brought Master Paré to my bedside almost by force." "Yes, Monseigneur," Ambroise interposed; "save for Monsieur d'Exmès's intervention, they would not have allowed me to come near you." "God bless my two saviors!" said François de Lorraine. "I implore you not to talk so much, Monseigneur," said the surgeon. "Well, I will hold my peace; but just one word,--one question." "What may it be, Monseigneur?" "Do you think, Master Paré," asked the duke, "that the results of this horrible wound will be to affect my health or my reason?" "I am sure not, Monseigneur," said Ambroise; "but I fear that a cicatrix will remain,--a scar (_balafré_)--" "A scar!" cried the duke; "oh, that is nothing! It is an adornment to a warrior's features; and the sobriquet of _Balafré_ is one that I should not object to in the least." It is well known that his contemporaries and posterity were of the Duc de Guise's opinion, who from that time (as well as his son after him) was surnamed _Le Balafré_ by his generation and by history. CHAPTER XXIV PARTIAL DÉNOUEMENT We go forward to the 8th of January,--the day succeeding that on which Gabriel d'Exmès had finally restored to the King of France Calais, his fairest city, which had been lost to him for so many years, and the Duc de Guise, his greatest captain, who had been in imminent danger of death.