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Ludovic Lesly, or as we shall more frequently call him, Le Balafre, by which name he was generally known in France, was upwards of six feet high, robust, strongly compacted in person, and hard favoured in countenance, which latter attribute was much increased by a large and ghastly scar, which, beginning on his forehead, and narrowly missing his right eye, had laid bare the cheek bone, and descended from thence almost to the tip of his ear, exhibiting a deep seam, which was sometimes scarlet, sometimes purple, sometimes blue, and sometimes approaching to black; but always hideous, because at variance with the complexion of the face in whatever state it chanced to be, whether agitated or still, flushed with unusual passion, or in its ordinary state of weather-beaten and sunburnt swarthiness.
"I care not for his danger," said Cunningham; "such game as we are beyond his bird bolts. He was originally the King's barber, but afterwards a favourite counsellor. "But hark you," said Balafre, "it is ill going to Oliver empty handed, and I am as bare as the birch in December." "So are we all," said Cunningham. "Oliver must not scruple to take our Scottish words for once.
Though he saved the prince by this heroic treatment, he could not prevent the horrible scar which gave the great soldier his nickname, Le Balafre, the Scarred. This name descended to the son, and for a similar reason.
Looking at the handsome, swarthy features, marked with a deep scar, and the dark, dangerous eyes which were then revealed, the practical jester at once recognized in the simple traveller the terrible Balafre, and kissed the hem of his garments with submissive rapture.
Turning, as I lighted a cigarette, I glanced back at him in order to obtain a view of his profile. I knew him instantly for now the scar was visible. It was "Le Balafre" who had been playing cards in Miguel's cafe on the previous night! I have sometimes been criticised, especially by my English confreres, for my faith in disguise.
Doubt and mystery involved the several pretensions of those who claimed the merit of having dispatched the murderer of the bishop, for the rich reward promised brought death to all who were arrayed in De la Marck's resemblance. In the midst of conflicting claims Crawford pressed forward into the circle, dragging Le Balafré after him.
"How now, Ludovic!" said his commander; "what are ye doing with that carrion?" "It is all that is left of a bit of work which my nephew shaped out and nearly finished and I put the last hand to," said Le Balafre, "a good fellow that I dispatched yonder and who prayed me to throw his head into the Maes.
His journey hath given him some pretty tales to tell about King Louis; and he is turning Burgundian, that he may make his own little profit by telling them to Duke Charles." "If I thought so," said Le Balafre, "I would cut his throat with my own hand, were he fifty times my sister's son."
Le Balafre, with more respect than perhaps he would have shown to Louis himself, stated at full length the circumstances in which his nephew was placed, and humbly requested his Lordship's protection. Lord Crawford listened very attentively.
The people were equally recalcitrant. When Henry entered Paris after the campaign of 1587, they shouted for their idol, the Balafré, crying, "Saul has slain his thousands but David his tens of thousands."
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