Though I had not done so,I begged his pardon very politely.But as his only acknowledgment of this courtesy consisted in an attempt to get his knee in front of mine--we were mounting very slowly,the stairs being cumbered with a multitude of servants,who stood on either hand--I did tread on his toe,with a force and directness which made him cry out.
'What is the matter?'Rambouillet asked,looking back hastily.
'Nothing,M.le Marquis,'I answered,pressing on steadfastly.
'Sir,'my young friend said again,in the same lisping voice,'you trod on my toe.'
'I believe I did,sir,'I answered.
'You have not yet apologised,'he murmured gently in my ear.
'Nay,there you are wrong,'I rejoined bluntly,'for it is always my habit to apologise first and tread afterwards.'
He smiled as at a pleasant joke;and I am bound to say that his bearing was so admirable that if he had been my son I could have hugged him.'Good!'he answered.'No doubt your sword is as sharp as your wits,sir.I see,'he continued,glancing naively at my old scabbard--he was himself the very gem of a courtier,a slender youth with a pink-and-white complexion,a dark line for a moustache,and a pearl-drop in his ear--'it is longing to be out.
Perhaps you will take a turn in the tennis-court to-morrow?'
'With pleasure,sir,'I answered,'if you have a father,or your elder brother is grown up.'
What answer he would have made to this gibe I do not know,for at that moment we reached the door of the ante-chamber;and this being narrow,and a sentry in the grey uniform of the Swiss Guard compelling all to enter in single file,my young friend was forced to fall back,leaving me free to enter alone,and admire at my leisure a scene at once brilliant and sombre.
The Court being in mourning for the Queen-mother,black predominated in the dresses of those present,and set off very finely the gleaming jewels and gemmed sword-hilts which were worn by the more important personages.The room was spacious and lofty,hung with arras,and lit by candles burning in silver sconces;it rang as we entered with the shrill screaming of a parrot,which was being teased by a group occupying the farther of the two hearths.Near them play was going on at one table,and primero at a second.In a corner were three or four ladies,in a circle about a red-faced,plebeian-looking man,who was playing at forfeits with one of their number;while the middle of the room seemed dominated by a middle-sized man with a peculiarly inflamed and passionate countenance,who,seated on a table,was inveighing against someone or something in the most violent terms,his language being interlarded with all kinds of strange and forcible oaths.Two or three gentlemen,who had the air of being his followers,stood about him,listening between submission and embarrassment;while beside the nearer fireplace,but at some distance from him,lounged a nobleman,very richly dressed,and wearing on his breast the Cross of the Holy Ghost;who seemed to be the object of his invective,but affecting to ignore it was engaged in conversation with a companion.Abystander muttering that Crillon had been drinking,I discovered with immense surprise that the declaimer on the table was that famous soldier;and I was still looking at him in wonder--for Ihad been accustomed all my life to associate courage with modesty--when,the door of the chamber suddenly opening,a general movement in that direction took place.Crillon,disregarding all precedency,sprang from his table and hurried first to the threshold.The Baron de Biron,on the other hand--for the gentleman by the fire was no other--waited,in apparent ignorance of the slight which was being put upon him,until M.de Rambouillet came up;then he went forward with him.Keeping close to my patron's elbow,I entered the chamber immediately behind him.
Crillon had already seized upon the king,and,when we entered,was stating his grievance is a voice not much lower than that which he had used outside.M.de Biron,seeing this,parted from the marquis,and,going aside with his former companion,sat down on a trunk against the wall;while Rambouillet,followed by myself and three or four gentlemen of his train,advanced to the king,who was standing near the alcove.His Majesty seeing him,and thankful,I think,for the excuse,waved Crillon off.'Tut,tut!You told me all that this morning,'he said good-naturedly.
'And here is Rambouillet,who has,I hope,something fresh to tell.Let him speak to me.Sanctus!Don't look at me as if you would run me through,man.Go and quarrel with someone of your own size.'
Crillon at this retired grumbling,and Henry,who had just risen from primero with the Duke of Nevers,nodded to Rambouillet.
'Well,my friend,anything fresh?'he cried.He was more at his ease and looked more cheerful than at our former interview;yet still care and suspicion lurked about his peevish mouth,and in the hollows under his gloomy eyes.'A new guest,a new face,or a new game--which have you brought?'
'In a sense,sire,a new face,'the marquis answered,bowing,and standing somewhat aside that I might have place.
'Well,I cannot say much for the pretty baggage,'quoth the king quickly.And amid a general titter he extended his hand to me.
'I'll be sworn,though,'he continued,as I rose from my knee,'that you want something,my friend?'
'Nay,sire,'I answered,holding up my head boldly--for Crillon's behaviour had been a further lesson to me--'I have,by your leave,the advantage.For your Majesty has supplied me with a new jest.I see many new faces round me,and I have need only of a new game.If your Majesty would be pleased to grant me--'
'There!Said I not so?'cried the king,raising his hand with a laugh.'He does want something.But he seems not undeserving.
What does he pray,Rambouillet?'
