"These four princes were the most skilful knights who could be found at that time, not in France alone, but in all countries. Thus on that day they performed prodigies of valor; and it was impossible to know to whom the palm should be awarded, although the king was one of the best and most expert horsemen in his realm." Fortune seemed to divide her favors with impartial hand among these four dexterous and renowned challengers; and as course succeeded course, and the day drew to its close, it was hard to say to which of them the honor of the tournament belonged. Henri was throughout in an almost feverish state of excitement. He was in his element in all such sports and passages-at-arms; and he was quite as eager to be victorious on such occasions as on a real battle-field. However, the evening came on apace, and the trumpets and clarions sounded the signal for the last course. It was Monsieur le Duc de Guise's turn to hold the lists, and he did it in such knightly fashion as to win hearty applause from the ladies and the assembled multitude. Then the queen, who began to breathe freely once more, rose from her seat. It was the signal for departure. "What! is everything over?" cried the excited and jealous king. "Wait, Mesdames, wait a moment! Is it not my turn to run a course?" Monsieur de Vieilleville reminded the king that he had opened the lists; that the four challengers had all run the same number of courses: that they had all met with equal success, to be sure, and no one could be declared victor, but that the lists were closed and the day at an end. "What!" retorted Henri, impatiently; "if the king is the first to enter the lists, he should be the last to leave them. I do not choose that the day should end in this way. See, there are still two unbroken lances." "But there are no more assailants, Sire," replied Monsieur de Vieilleville. "I beg your pardon," said the king; "do you not see that man who has kept his visor down all the time, and has not yet run? Who is it, Vieilleville?" "Sire, I don't know,--I had not noticed him." "Monsieur," said Henri, approaching the unknown, "you will, if you please, break this last lance with me." The individual addressed did not reply for a moment, but at last in a deep and solemn voice, which he struggled to control, he said,-- "I beg your Majesty to allow me to decline this honor." The tone of his voice caused Henri, without knowing why, to feel a strange uneasiness mingled with his feverish excitement. "Allow you to decline! no, I cannot allow that, Monsieur," said he, with a gesture of nervous anger. Then the stranger silently raised his visor. For the third time within a fortnight, the king saw the pale and dejected countenance of Gabriel de Montgommery. CHAPTER XII THE FATAL JOUST At sight of the solemn and ominous features of the young count, the king felt an involuntary tremor of surprise, perhaps of terror, which set every nerve quivering.