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"Are you sure you are right, Master Oliver? "I am quite certain of his Majesty's pleasure," said Oliver, "and must no longer delay executing it." "But," said Le Balafre, "my nephew is not even a free Archer, being only an Esquire, serving under my lance." "Pardon me," answered Oliver; "the King sent for the register not half an hour since, and enrolled him among the Guard.
It was necessary to amuse the old queen, but he was profoundly of opinion that the only sovereign for France, upon the death of Henry, was Philip II. himself. This was the Duke's plan of arriving, by means of Spanish assistance, at the throne of France; and such was Henry le Balafre, chief of the League.
"Why, sure, thou dost not pretend to tenderness of heart," said the King; "thou who hast been first in storm and siege, and most eager, as men tell me, on the pleasures and advantages which are gained on such occasions by the rough heart and the bloody hand?" "My lord," answered Le Balafre, "I have neither feared nor spared your enemies, sword in hand.
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.
"You have reason to be more thankful, young man," said Maitre Pierre, "both to your patron Saint Quentin and to Saint Julian, than you seemed to be but now. I would advise you to bestow alms in their name. Remain in this hostelry until you see your kinsman, Le Balafre, who will be relieved from guard in the afternoon.
"Let it be Burgundy, in honour of our host and of a liquor that you love, Crawford." "I will quarrel with neither Duke nor drink, so called," said Crawford, "provided always that both be sound. A good night to your Majesty!" "A good night, my trusty Scot," said the King, and passed on to his apartments. At the door of his bedroom Le Balafre was placed sentinel.
The Balafre hesitated, but the populace raved and roared for its darling. The Queen-Mother urged her unhappy son to yield his consent, and the Montpensier fatal sister of Guise, with the famous scissors ever at her girdle insisted that her brother had as good a right as any man to come to the city.
The Cardinal of Guise begged his brother to go away, assuring him that his own presence would suffice for the direction of affairs: but, "They are in such case, my friend," said the Balafre, "that, if I saw death coming in at the window, I would not consent to go out by the door to avoid it."
"Cross of Saint Andrew!" said Le Balafre; "that is what I call an onslaught! Ay, these Ogilvies were ever but sorry neighbours to Glen Houlakin an evil chance it was; but fate of war fate of war. When did this mishap befall, fair nephew?"
Dost thou understand me?" "Truly I do," answered Le Balafre, "but, if it please your Majesty, this is a matter entirely out of my course of practice. I could not kill you a dog unless it were in hot assault, or pursuit, or upon defiance given, or such like."
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