La reine Margot. English

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  THE HUNT.

  The outrider who had turned aside the boar and who had told the Kingthat the animal had not left the place was not mistaken. Scarcely werethe bloodhounds put on the trail before it plunged into the thickets,and from a cluster of thorn bushes drove out the boar which the outriderhad recognized by its track. It was a recluse; that is, the strangestkind of animal.

  It started straight ahead and crossed the road fifty feet from the King,followed only by the bloodhound which had driven it back. The firstrelay of dogs was at once let loose, twenty in number, which sprangafter it.

  Hunting was Charles' chief passion. Scarcely had the animal crossed theroad before he started after it, followed by the Duc d'Alencon andHenry, to whom a sign had indicated that he must not leave Charles.

  The rest of the hunters followed the King.

  At the time of which we are writing, the royal forests were far frombeing what they are to-day, great parks intersected by carriage roads.Then traffic was almost wanting. Kings had not yet conceived the idea ofbeing merchants, and of dividing their woods into fellings, copses, andforests. The trees, planted, not by learned foresters, but by the handof God, who threw the grain to the will of the winds, were not arrangedin quincunxes, but grew as they pleased, as they do to-day in anyvirginal forest of America. In short, a forest in those days was a denof the wild boar, the stag, the wolf, and robbers; and a dozen pathsstarting from one point starred that of Bondy, surrounded by a circularroad as the circle of a wheel surrounds its fellies.

  To carry the comparison further, the nave would not be a badrepresentation of the single point where the parties meet in the centreof the wood, where the wandering hunters rally to start out againtowards the point where the lost animal again appears.

  At the end of a quarter of an hour there happened what always happens insuch cases. Insurmountable obstacles rose in the path of the hunters,the cries of the dogs were lost in the distance, and the King returnedto the meeting-place cursing and swearing as was his habit.

  "Well, D'Alencon! Well, Henriot!" said he, "there you are, by Heaven, ascalm and unruffled as nuns following their abbess. That is not hunting.Why, D'Alencon, you look as though you had just stepped out of aband-box, and you are so saturated with perfumery that if you were topass between the boar and my dogs, you might put them off the scent. Andyou, Henry, where is your spear, your musket? Let us see!"

  "Sire," said Henry, "of what use is a musket? I know that your Majestylikes to shoot the beast when the dogs have caught it. As to a spear, Iam clumsy enough with this weapon, which is not much used among ourmountains, where we hunt the bear with a simple dagger."

  "By Heavens, Henry, when you return to your Pyrenees you will have tosend me a whole cartload of bears. It must be a pretty hunt that iscarried on at such close quarters with an animal which might strangleus. Listen, I think I hear the dogs. No, I am mistaken." The King tookhis horn and blew a blast; several horns answered him. Suddenly anoutrider appeared who blew another blast.

  "The boar! the boar!" cried the King.

  He galloped off, followed by the rest of the hunters who had ralliedround him.

  The outrider was not mistaken. As the King advanced they began to hearthe barking of the pack, which consisted of more than sixty dogs, forone after another they had let loose all the relays placed at the pointsthe boar had already passed. The King saw the boar again, and takingadvantage of a clump of high trees, he rushed after him, blowing hishorn with all his might.

  For some time the princes followed him. But the King had such a stronghorse and was so carried away by his ardor, and he rode over such roughroads and through such thick underbrush, that at first the ladies, thenthe Duc de Guise and his gentlemen, and finally the two princes, wereforced to abandon him. Tavannes held out for a time longer, but atlength he too gave up.

  Except Charles and a few outriders who, excited over a promised reward,would not leave the King, everyone had gathered about the open space inthe centre of the wood. The two princes were together on a narrow path,the Duc de Guise and his gentlemen had halted a hundred feet from them.Further on were the ladies.

  "Does it not really seem," said the Duc d'Alencon to Henry, indicatingby a wink the Duc de Guise, "that that man with his escort sheathed insteel is the real king? Poor princes that we are, he does not even honorus by a glance."

  "Why should he treat us better than we treat our own relatives?" repliedHenry. "Why, brother, are not you and I prisoners at the court ofFrance, hostages from our party?"

  Duc Francois started at these words, and looked at Henry as if toprovoke further explanation; but Henry had said more than he usually didand was silent.

  "What do you mean, Henry?" asked the Duc Francois, visibly annoyed thathis brother-in-law by stopping had left him to open the conversation.

  "I say, brother," said Henry, "that all these men who are so well armed,whose duty seems to be not to lose sight of us, look exactly like guardspreventing two people from running away."

  "Running away? why? how?" asked D'Alencon, admirably successful in hispretended surprise and innocence.

  "You have a magnificent mount, Francois," said Henry, following out histhoughts, while apparently changing the conversation. "I am sure hecould make seven leagues in an hour, and twenty between now and noon. Itis a fine day. And one feels like saying good-by. See the beautifulcross-road. Does it not tempt you, Francois? As to me, my spurs burnme."

  Francois did not reply. But he first turned red and then white. Then hebent his head, as if listening for sounds from the hunters.

  "The news from Poland is having its effect," said Henry, "and my dearbrother-in-law has his plans. He would like me to escape, but I shallnot do so by myself."

  Scarcely had this thought passed through his mind before several newconverts, who had come to court during the past two or three months,galloped up and smiled pleasantly on the two princes. The Duc d'Alencon,provoked by Henry's remarks, had but one word to say, one gesture tomake, and it was evident that thirty or forty horsemen, who at thatmoment gathered around them as though to oppose the troop belonging toMonsieur de Guise, favored his flight; but he turned aside his head,and, raising his horn to his lips, he sounded the rally. But thenewcomers, as if they thought that the hesitation on the part of the Ducd'Alencon was due to the presence of the followers of the De Guises, hadby degrees glided among them and the two princes, and had drawnthemselves up in echelons with a strategic skill which showed the usualmilitary disposition. In fact, to reach the Duc d'Alencon and the Kingof Navarre it would have been necessary to pass through this company,while, as far as eye could reach, a perfectly free road stretched outbefore the brothers.

  Suddenly from among the trees, ten feet from the King of Navarre,another gentleman appeared, as yet unperceived by the two princes. Henrywas trying to think who he was, when the gentleman raised his hat andHenry recognized him as the Vicomte de Turenne, one of the leaders ofthe Protestant party, who was supposed to be in Poitou.

  The vicomte even ventured to make a sign which clearly meant,

  "Will you come?"

  But having consulted the impassable face and dull eye of the Ducd'Alencon, Henry turned his head two or three times over his shoulder asif something was the matter with his neck or doublet.

  This was a refusal. The vicomte understood it, put both spurs to hishorse and disappeared in the thicket. At that moment the pack was heardapproaching, then they saw the boar followed by the dogs cross the endof the path where they were all gathered; then Charles IX., like aninfernal hunter, hatless, the horn at his mouth blowing enough to bursthis lungs; three or four outriders followed. Tavannes had disappeared.

  "The King!" cried the Duc d'Alencon, and he rode after him.

  Reassured by the presence of his good friends, Henry signed to them notto leave, and advanced towards the ladies.

  "Well!" said Marguerite, taking a few steps towards him.

  "Well, madame," said Henry, "we are hunt
ing the wild boar."

  "Is that all?"

  "Yes, the wind has changed since morning; but I believe you predictedthis."

  "These changes of the wind are bad for hunting, are they not, monsieur?"asked Marguerite.

  "Yes," said Henry; "they sometimes upset all plans, which have to bemade over again." Just then the barking of the dogs began to be heard asthey rapidly approached, and a sort of noisy dust warned the hunters tobe on their guard. Each one raised his head and listened.

  Almost immediately the boar appeared again, but instead of returning tothe woods, he followed the road that led directly to the open spacewhere were the ladies, the gentlemen paying court to them, and thehunters who had given up the chase.

  Behind the animal came thirty or forty great dogs, panting; then, twentyfeet behind them, King Charles without hat or cloak, his clothes torn bythe thorns, his face and hands covered with blood.

  One or two outriders were with him.

  The King stopped blowing his horn only to urge on his dogs, and stoppedurging on his dogs only to return to his horn. He saw no one. Had hishorse stumbled, he might have cried out as did Richard III.: "My kingdomfor a horse!" But the horse seemed as eager as his master. His feet didnot touch the ground, and his nostrils breathed forth fire. Boar, dogs,and King passed like a dream.

  "Halloo! halloo!" cried the King as he went by, raising the horn to hisbloody lips.

  A few feet behind him came the Duc d'Alencon and two outriders. But thehorses of the others had given out or else they were lost.

  Everyone started after the King, for it was evident that the boar wouldsoon be taken.

  In fact, at the end of about ten minutes the animal left the path it hadbeen following, and sprang into the bushes; but reaching an open space,it ran to a rock and faced the dogs.

  At the shouts from Charles, who had followed it, everyone drew near.

  They arrived at an interesting point in the chase. The boar seemeddetermined to make a desperate defence. The dogs, excited by a run ofmore than three hours, rushed on it with a fury which increased theshouts and the oaths of the King.

  All the hunters formed a circle, the King somewhat in advance, behindhim the Duc d'Alencon armed with a musket, and Henry, who had nothingbut his simple hunting knife.

  The Duc d'Alencon unfastened his musket and lighted the match. Henrymoved his knife in its sheath.

  As to the Duc de Guise, disdainful of all the details of hunting, hestood somewhat apart from the others with his gentlemen. The women,gathered together in a group, formed a counterpart to that of the duke.

  Everyone who was anything of a hunter stood with eyes fixed on theanimal in anxious expectation.

  To one side an outrider was endeavoring to restrain the King's twomastiffs, which, encased in their coats of mail, were waiting to takethe boar by the ears, howling and jumping about in such a manner thatevery instant one might think they would burst their chains.

  The boar made a wonderful resistance. Attacked at once by forty or moredogs, which enveloped it like a roaring tide, which covered it by theirmotley carpet, which on all sides was striving to reach its skin,wrinkled with bristles, at each blow of its snout it hurled a dog tenfeet in the air. The dogs fell back, torn to pieces, and, with entrailsdragging, at once returned to the fray. Charles, with hair on end,bloodshot eyes, and inflated nostrils, leaned over the neck of hisdripping horse shouting furious "halloos!"

  In less than ten minutes twenty dogs were out of the fight.

  "The mastiffs!" cried Charles; "the mastiffs!"

  At this shout the outrider opened the carbine-swivels of the leashes,and the two bloodhounds rushed into the midst of the carnage,overturning everything, scattering everything, making a way with theircoats of mail to the animal, which they seized by the ear.

  The boar, knowing that it was caught, clinched its teeth both from rageand pain.

  "Bravo, Duredent! Bravo, Risquetout!" cried Charles. "Courage, dogs! Aspear! a spear!"

  "Do you not want my musket?" said the Duc d'Alencon.

  "No," cried the King, "no; one cannot feel a bullet when he shoots;there is no fun in it; but one can feel a spear. A spear! a spear!"

  They handed the King a hunting spear hardened by fire and armed with asteel point.

  "Take care, brother!" cried Marguerite.

  "Come! come!" cried the Duchesse de Nevers. "Do not miss, sire. Give thebeast a good stab!"

  "Be easy, duchess!" said Charles.

  Couching his lance, he darted at the boar which, held by the twobloodhounds, could not escape the blow. But at sight of the shininglance it turned to one side, and the weapon, instead of sinking into itsbreast, glided over its shoulder and blunted itself against the rock towhich the animal had run.

  "A thousand devils!" cried the King. "I have missed him. A spear! aspear!"

  And bending back, as horsemen do when they are going to take a fence, hehurled his useless lance from him.

  An outrider advanced and offered him another.

  But at that moment, as though it foresaw the fate which awaited it, andwhich it wished to resist, by a violent effort the boar snatched itstorn ears from the teeth of the bloodhounds, and with eyes bloody,protruding, hideous, its breath burning like the heat from a furnace,with chattering teeth and lowered head it sprang at the King's horse.Charles was too good a hunter not to have foreseen this. He turned hishorse, which began to rear, but he had miscalculated the pressure, andthe horse, too tightly reined in, or perhaps giving way to his fright,fell over backwards. The spectators gave a terrible cry: the horse hadfallen, and the King's leg was under him.

  "Your hand, sire, give me your hand," said Henry.

  The King let go his horse's bridle, seized the saddle with his lefthand, and tried to draw out his hunting knife with his right; but theknife, pressed into his belt by the weight of his body, would not comefrom its sheath.

  "The boar! the boar!" cried Charles; "it is on me, D'Alencon! on me!"

  The horse, recovering himself as if he understood his master's danger,stretched his muscles, and had already succeeded in getting up on itsthree legs, when, at the cry from his brother, Henry saw the DucFrancois grow frightfully pale and raise the musket to his shoulder,but, instead of striking the boar, which was but two feet from the King,the ball broke the knee of the horse, which fell down again, his nosetouching the ground. At that instant the boar, with its snout, toreCharles's boot.

  "Oh!" murmured D'Alencon with ashy lips, "I suppose that the Duc d'Anjouis King of France, and that I am King of Poland."

  The boar was about to attack Charles's leg, when suddenly the latterfelt someone raise his arm; then he saw the flash of a sharp-pointedblade which was driven into the shoulder of the boar and disappeared upto its guard, while a hand gloved in steel turned aside the head alreadypoked under his clothes.

  As the horse had risen, Charles had succeeded in freeing his leg, andnow raising himself heavily, he saw that he was dripping with blood,whereupon he became as pale as a corpse.

  "Sire," said Henry, who still knelt holding the boar pierced to theheart, "sire, it is nothing, I turned aside the teeth, and your Majestyis not hurt."

  Then he rose, let go the knife, and the boar fell back pouring forthmore blood from its mouth than from its wound.

  Charles, surrounded by a breathless crowd, assailed by cries of terrorwhich would have dashed the greatest courage, was for a moment ready tofall on the dying animal. But he recovered himself and, turning towardthe King of Navarre, he pressed his hand with a look in which shone thefirst spark of feeling that had been roused in his heart for twenty-fouryears.

  "Thank you, Henriot!" said he.

  "My poor brother!" cried D'Alencon, approaching Charles.

  "Ah! it is you, D'Alencon, is it?" said the King. "Well, famous marksmanthat you are, what became of your ball?"

  "It must have flattened itself against the boar," said the duke.

  "Well! my God!" exclaimed Henry, with admirably assumed surpris
e; "yousee, Francois, your bullet has broken the leg of his Majesty's horse.That is strange!"

  "What!" said the King; "is that true?"

  "It is possible," said the duke terrified; "my hand shook so!"

  "The fact is that for a clever marksman that was a strange thing to do,Francois!" said Charles frowning. "A second time, Henriot, I thank you!"

  "Gentlemen," continued the King, "let us return to Paris; I have hadenough of this."

  Marguerite came up to congratulate Henry.

  "Yes, indeed, Margot," said Charles, "congratulate him, and sincerelytoo, for without him the King of France would be Henry III."

  "Alas, madame," said the Bearnais, "Monsieur le Duc d'Anjou, who isalready my enemy, will be angrier than ever at me. But what can youexpect? One does what one can. Ask Monsieur d'Alencon."

  And bowing, he drew his knife from the wild boar's body and dug it twoor three times into the earth to wipe off the blood.

  PART II.