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Henri, seizing, in a transport of rage, the trumpet from the hands of St. Luc, raised it as if to strike. But St. Luc jumped up and cried "Sire, I am a gentleman; you have no right to strike me!" Henri dashed the trumpet violently on the ground. Some one picked it up; it was Chicot, who, hearing the noise, judged that his presence was necessary as a mediator.
Quelus and Maugiron employed themselves with plaiting ribbons, a favorite diversion of that time; and Chicot amused himself by making anagrams on the names of all the courtiers. Just as they passed the Place Maubert, Chicot rushed out of the litter, and went to kneel down before a house of good appearance.
Satan, and turning over several leaves of his notebook, he rattled out the following names: "Alcibiades, kind of statesman; Beau Brummel, fop; Cagliostro, conjurer; Robespierre, politician; Charles Stuart, Pretender; Warwick, King-maker; Borgia, A., Pope; Ditto, C., toxicologist; Wallenstein, mercenary; Bacon, Roger, man of science; Ditto, F., dishonest official; Tell, W., patriot; Jones, Paul, pirate; Lucullus, glutton; Simon Stylites, eccentric; Casanova, loose liver; Casabianca, cabin-boy; Chicot, jester; Sayers, T., prize-fighter; Cook, Captain, tourist; Nebuchadnezzar, food-faddist; Juan, D., lover; Froissart, war correspondent; Julian, apostate?"
Chicot gave a start which made the king smile. "Ma foi!" said Henri, "that is a contradiction that I did not expect. And what the devil can he want here?" "Yes," said Chicot, "what the devil does he want here?" "We shall soon know; perhaps our Spanish neighbor has some frontier dispute to settle with us." "I will retire," said Chicot.
"Do you not fear, sire, that the Latin is a bad prognostic?" said Chicot. "M. Chicot is right, sire," said the queen. "What!" said Henri, "does the letter contain anything disagreeable, and from your brother, who is so clever and polite?" "Even when he had me insulted in my litter, as happened near Sens, when I left Paris to rejoin you, sire."
Soon after, a gentleman on horseback, followed by two squires, appeared at the corner of the street, and pushed his way through the crowd, while the music stopped. "M. de Joyeuse," murmured Chicot, who recognized him at once. The cavalier approached the gentleman under the balcony. "Well! Henri," said he, "what news?" "Nothing, brother." "Nothing?" "No; she has not even appeared."
"I shall not be king of France," murmured the duke, "but, at all events, I shall not be beheaded for high treason." The guard placed to catch the conspirators got none of them; they all escaped, as we have seen; therefore, when Crillon at last broke open the door, he found the place deserted and empty. In vain they opened doors and windows; in vain the king cried, "Chicot!" No one answered.
"Silence!" whispered the voices again; "he takes you for Gorenflot." Mayenne only uttered groans, and made immense efforts to get through. "Ah! conspirator!" cried Chicot again; "ah! unworthy monk, this is for your drunkenness, this for idleness, this for anger, this for greediness, and this for all the vices you have." "M. Chicot, have pity," whispered Gorenflot.
And Chicot refilled the monk's glass. The first bottle was finished. "In the name of Bacchus, Momus, and Comus, trinity of the great saint Pantagruel, I baptize thee, carp," said Gorenflot. "Now," said Chicot, "to the health of the newly baptized; may it be cooked to perfection, and may M. Boutromet add to the excellent qualities which it has received from nature."
I do not see her here." The count started, but replied, "Sire, she is ill, the air of Paris did not agree with her; so having obtained leave from the queen, she set out last night, with her father, for Meridor." "Paris is not good for women in her situation," said Chicot. Monsoreau grew pale and looked furiously at him. "This poor countess!" continued Chicot, "she will die of ennui by the way."
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