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Towards the end of a beautiful day in June, six weeks after our departure from New Orleans, the flatboat stopped at the pass of Lake Chicot. The sun was setting in a belt of gray clouds. Our men fastened their vessel securely and then cast their eyes about them. "Ah!" cried Mario, "I do not like this place; it is inhabited." He pointed to a wretched hut half hidden by the forest.
"Oh, Chicot!" cried the king, "you have woke me from one of the sweetest dreams I ever had in my life." "What was it, my son?" "I dreamed that Quelus had run Antragues through the body, and was swimming in the blood of his adversary. Let us go and pray that my dream may be realized. Call, Chicot, call." "What do you want?" "My hair-cloth and my scourge." "Would you not prefer a good breakfast?"
Bonhomet answered that it was, and Borromée then led Chicot to the little room already so well known to all readers of "Chicot, the Jester." "Now," said Borromée, "wait here for me while I avail myself of a privilege granted to the habitués of this house." "What is that?" "To go to the cellar and fetch one's own wine." "Ah! a jolly privilege. Go, then." Borromée went out.
"Oh, oh!" thought Chicot, "the duke is not yet tired of playing for the crown with the heads of others!" "Long live Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou!" cried the assembly. The duke grew paler than ever. "Fear nothing, monseigneur," said Henri de Guise; our chapel is deaf, and its doors are well closed."
"Come, Chicot, get on horseback too; you are not a warrior, either, are you?" "No, sire." "Well, come, we will be afraid together; come and see, my friend. A good horse here, for M. Chicot." Henri set off at full gallop, and Chicot followed him. On arriving in front of his little army, Henri raised his visor, and cried: "Out with the banner! out with the new banner!"
"Assuredly, sire." "But I do not forget that there is another army to command, and that this belongs of right to the bravest soldier in my kingdom; therefore go and command the army." "And when am I to set out, sire?" "Immediately." "Henri, Henri!" whispered Chicot; but, in spite of his signs and grimaces, the king gave the duke his brevet ready signed.
The enemies of the faith wish to assassinate me, but I will not die without making my voice heard. Death to the Huguenots!" "Will you hold your tongue?" cried Chicot. But at this moment a second blow fell on the shoulders of the monk with such force that he cried out with real pain. Chicot, astonished, looked round him, but saw nothing but the stick.
Now, your highness, we beg of you to lower your hood, that your faithful friends may see with their own eyes that you keep the promise which I made in your name, and which they hardly dared to believe." The mysterious personage now lowered his hood, and Chicot saw the head of the Duc d'Anjou appear, so pale that, by the light of the lamp, it looked like that of a marble statue.
"Chicot loved me, and I miss him; that is all I can say. Oh! when I think that in the same place where you now are have been all those young men, handsome, brave, and faithful that there, on that very chair on which you have placed your hat, Chicot has slept more than a hundred times " "Perhaps that was very amusing," interrupted the duke, "but certainly not very respectful."
"Here I am at your majesty's feet," said he, "and find you ever good and beautiful, and queen here, as at the Louvre." "It is a miracle to see you here, monsieur; they said you were dead." "I pretended to be so." "And what do you want with us, M. Chicot? Am I happy enough to be still remembered in France?" "Oh, madame," said Chicot, smiling, "we do not forget queens of your age and your beauty.
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