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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Do not mix yourself with what does not concern you," replied Chicot, without seeming to recognize him. But a new influx of the crowd distracted the attention of La Huriere, and separated the king and his companions from the hotel. "Why are you here, sire?" said Chicot. "Do you think I have anything to fear?"
But they do not say what blood, and I wager that it is not the blood of heretics it abhors. And then another argument; I said, 'the church; but are we the church? Brother Monsoreau, who spoke so well just now, has, I doubt not, his huntsman's knife in his belt. Brother la Huriere manages the spit; I, myself, who speak to you I, Jacques Gorenflot, have carried the musket in Champagne.
"We have two or three addresses given to us by an innkeeper we know, M. la Huriere." "Do you know La Huriere?" "Yes, we made his acquaintance on the night of St. Bartholomew." "Well, I see you and your relation are holy people; I also know La Huriere. Then you say this monk " "Had the imprudence to preach against the Huguenots, and with so much success that the king wanted to put him in prison."
Thunders of acclamation followed. When they were calm, the monk who always spoke said, "The proposition of Brother la Huriere, whom the union thanks for his zeal, will be taken into consideration by the superior council." La Huriere bowed, amidst fresh applause. "Ah! ah!" thought Chicot, "I begin to see clearly into all this.
The council must judge whether these three, for whom I answer, as for myself, ought to be admitted into the Union." A murmur of applause followed and as Monsoreau regained his seat, "Brother la Huriere," cried the same monk, "tell us what you have done in the city of Paris."
On the threshold a man, with a cotton cap on his head and a naked sword in one hand and a register in the other, was crying out, "Come come, brave Catholics, enter the hotel of the Belle Etoile, where you will find good wine; come, to-night the good will be separated from the bad, and to-morrow morning the wheat will be known from the tares; come, gentlemen, you who can write, come and sign; you who cannot write, come and tell your names to me, La Huriere; vive la messe!"
While M. la Huriere piled signature upon signature, while Chicot consigned Gorenflot to the Corne d'Abondance, while Bussy returned to life in the happy little garden full of perfume and love, the king, annoyed at all he had seen in the city, and furious against his brother, whom he had seen pass in the Rue St.
A tall man elbowed his way through the crowd, and in letters half an inch high, wrote his name, 'Chicot. Then, turning to La Huriere, he asked if he had not another register to sign. La Huriere did not understand raillery, and answered angrily.
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