Part 145 (1/2)

”Return to Paris with Monsieur de Nancey, and remain in your chamber under arrest. You, gentlemen,” continued he, addressing the two friends, ”give up your swords.”

La Mole looked at Marguerite. She smiled. La Mole at once handed his sword to the nearest officer. Coconnas did the same.

”Has Monsieur de Mouy been found?” asked the King.

”No, sire,” said Monsieur de Nancey; ”either he was not in the forest or he escaped.”

”So much the worse,” said the King; ”but let us return. I am cold and dizzy.”

”Sire, it is from anger, probably,” said Francois.

”Possibly; but my eyes trouble me. Where are the prisoners? I cannot see them. Is it night already? Oh! mercy! I am burning up! Help! Help!”

The unfortunate King dropped the bridle of his horse, stretched out his arms, and fell backward. The courtiers, frightened at this second attack, caught him as he fell.

Francois, standing apart, wiped the perspiration from his brow, for he alone knew the cause of the trouble from which his brother was suffering.

On the other side the King of Navarre, already under the guard of Monsieur de Nancey, looked upon the scene with growing astonishment.

”Well! well!” murmured he, with that wonderful intuition which at times made him seem inspired, ”was I perhaps fortunate in having been stopped in my flight?”

He glanced at Margot, whose great eyes, wide open with surprise, were looking first at him and then at the King.

This time Charles was unconscious. A litter was brought and he was laid on it. They covered him with a cloak, taken from the shoulders of one of the courtiers. The procession silently set out in the direction of Paris, whence that morning light-hearted conspirators and a happy King had started forth, and to which now a dying King was returning, surrounded by rebel prisoners.

Marguerite, who throughout all this had lost neither the control of her mind nor body, gave her husband a look of intelligence; then, pa.s.sing so close to La Mole that the latter was able to catch the following two Greek words, she said:

”_Me deide_,” which meant, ”Fear nothing.”

”What did she say?” asked Coconnas.

”She told me to fear nothing,” replied La Mole.

”So much the worse,” murmured the Piedmontese, ”so much the worse; that means that it is not good for us to be here. Every time that word has been said to me in an encouraging tone I have either received a bullet or a sword-thrust in my body, or a flower pot on my head. 'Fear nothing,' whether in Hebrew, Greek, Latin, or French, has always meant for me: 'Take care!'”

”Forward, gentlemen!” said the lieutenant of the light-horse.

”Without being indiscreet, monsieur,” said Coconnas, ”may we know where we are going?”

”To Vincennes, I think,” said the lieutenant.

”I would rather go elsewhere,” said Coconnas; ”but one does not always go just where one wishes.”

On the way the King recovered consciousness and some strength.

At Nanterre he even wanted to ride, but this was not allowed.

”Summon Maitre Ambroise Pare,” said Charles, on reaching the Louvre.

He descended from his litter, ascended the stairs, leaning on the arm of Tavannes, and entered his apartment, giving orders that no one be allowed to follow him.