Alexandre Dumas

“ Henry uttered a groan.
Then, animated by a frightful ardor, Charles loaded and fired his arquebuse without cessation, uttering cries of joy every time his aim was successful.
"It is all over with me!" said the King of Navarre to himself; "when he sees no one else to kill, he will kill me!"
"Well," said a voice behind the princes, suddenly, "is it done?"
It was Catharine de Médicis, who had entered unobserved just as the King was firing his last shot.
"No, thousand thunders of hell!" said the King, throwing his arquebuse across the room. "No, the obstinate blockhead—he will not consent!" ”

“ A spear! a spear!"
"Do you not want my musket?" said the Duc d'Alençon.
"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 a steel point.
"Take care, brother!" cried Marguerite.
"Come! come!" cried the Duchesse de Nevers. "Do not miss, sire. Give the beast a good stab!"
"Be easy, duchess!" said Charles.
Couching his lance, he darted at the boar which, held by the two bloodhounds, could not escape the blow. ”

“ At the gate of the Louvre Henry wanted to speak to some one.
"Come, come! pass out quickly, Henriot," said Charles. "When I tell you that the air of the Louvre is not good for you this evening, the devil! you must believe me!"
"Ventre saint gris!" murmured Henry; "and what will De Mouy do all alone in my room? I trust the air which is not good for me may be no worse for him!"
"Ah!" exclaimed the King, when Henry and he had crossed the drawbridge, "does it suit you, Henry, to have the gentlemen of Monsieur d'Alençon courting your wife?" ”

“ Madame de Sauve raised her great eyes dewy with voluptuous promises and looked at the king, whose heart was filled with an intoxicating joy.
"And then," said Henry, "what will you say?"
"I will say," replied Charlotte, "that your majesty really loves me."
"Ventre saint gris! then you shall say it, baroness, for it is true."
"But how can you manage it?" murmured Madame de Sauve.
"Oh! by Heaven! baroness, have you not about you some waiting-woman, some girl whom you can trust?"
"Yes, Dariole is so devoted to me that she would let herself be cut in pieces for me; she is a real treasure." ”

“ What does he wish? To leave court? Furnish him with means to escape. Work for him, De Mouy, as if you were working for me, turn the shield so that he may parry every blow they aim at us. When it is time to flee, we will both flee. When it is time to fight and reign, I will reign alone."
"Do not trust the duke," said Marguerite, "he is gloomy and acute, without hatred as without love; ever ready to treat his friends like enemies and his enemies like friends."
"And he is expecting you now, De Mouy?" said Henry.
"Yes, sire." ”

“ A fête on the Grève in the morning, a fête in the Louvre in the evening."
"And the duchess?" said Gillonne.
"She is quite happy. She may remain here; she can weep; she can suffer at her ease. She is not the daughter of a king, the wife of a king, the sister of a king. She is not a queen. Help me to dress, Gillonne."
The young girl obeyed. The jewels were magnificent, the dress gorgeous. Marguerite had never been so beautiful.
She looked at herself in a mirror.
"My brother is right," said she; "a human being is indeed a miserable creature." ”

“ I do not love my brother, I love only myself. Do you hear? And I shall not prevent my brother from doing as I do."
"Sire," said Catharine, growing excited on her part, "since you have opened your heart to me I must open mine to you. You are acting like a weak king, like an ill-advised monarch; you are sending away your second brother, the natural support of the throne, who is in every way worthy to succeed you if any accident happened, in which case your crown would be left in jeopardy. As you said, D'Alençon is young, incapable, weak, more than weak, cowardly! ”

“ He is not a hard drinker, it is true; but he will kill in cold blood. That is all. This dear Henry will be in his element; there! quick! quick! to battle! Sound the trumpet and the drum! Long live the king! Long live the conqueror! Long live the general! He will be proclaimed imperator three times a year. That will be fine for the house of France, and for the honor of the Valois; he may be killed, but, by Heaven, it will be a glorious death!"
Catharine shuddered. Her eyes flashed fire.
"Say that you wish to send Henry of Anjou away from you," she cried, "say that you do not love your brother!" ”

“ At the cry a crowd of servants, officers, and courtiers gathered around the young King. But ahead of them all a woman rushed out, pushed aside the others, and raised Charles, who had grown as pale as death.
"They kill me, nurse, they kill me," murmured the King, covered with perspiration and blood.
"They kill you, my Charles?" cried the good woman, glancing at the group of faces with a look which reached even Catharine. "Who kills you?"
Charles heaved a feeble sigh, and fainted.
"Ah!" said the physician, Ambroise Paré, who was summoned at once, "ah! the King is very ill!" ”

“ I distrust myself, and the happiness of another gives me pain."
"Whose happiness?" asked Marguerite, smiling. "Ah, yes—the King of Navarre's! Poor Henry!"
"You see," cried La Mole, passionately, "he is happy."
"Happy?"
"Yes, for your majesty is sorry for him."
Marguerite crumpled up the silk of her purse and smoothed out the golden fringe.
"So then you decline to see the King of Navarre?" said she; "you have made up your mind; you are decided?"
"I fear I should be troublesome to his majesty just at the present time."
"But the Duc d'Alençon, my brother?" ”

“ Gillonne obeyed, and returned holding in one hand a casket, and in the other a silver-gilt ewer and some fine Holland linen.
"Help me to lift him, Gillonne," said Queen Marguerite; "for in attempting to get up the poor gentleman has lost all his strength."
"But, madame," said La Mole, "I am wholly confused. Indeed, I cannot allow"—
"But, sir, you will let us do for you, I think," said Marguerite. "When we may save you, it would be a crime to let you die."
"Oh!" cried La Mole, "I would rather die than see you, the queen, stain your hands with blood as unworthy as mine. Oh, never, never!" ”

“ For an instant Marguerite seemed to try to summon her courage, then suddenly she gave way and fell back among the cushions.
"No, no, I cannot go," said she.
Charles took her hand and seating himself on the divan said:
"You have just lost a friend, I know, Margot; but look at me. Have I not lost all my friends, even my mother? You can always weep when you wish to; but I, at the moment of my greatest sorrows, am always forced to smile. You suffer; but look at me! I am dying. Come, Margot, courage! I ask it of you, sister, in the name of our honor! ”

“ If I had that desire, should I have asked you to come to the Louvre?"
"You have asked me to come to the Louvre, Marguerite, because you are anxious to destroy every vestige of our past, and because that past lives not only in my memory, but in this silver casket which I bring to you."
"Henry, shall I say one thing to you?" replied Marguerite, gazing earnestly at the duke; "it is that you are more like a schoolboy than a prince. I deny that I have loved you! I desire to quench a flame which will die, perhaps, but the reflection of which will never die! ”

“ Charles frowned; then by degrees his brow cleared.
"Yes," said he, as if speaking to himself. "It is the nature of wild creatures to flee from death. Why, then, should not knowledge do what instinct does?"
"Well, sire!" said Henry, "is your Majesty satisfied with my frankness, and do you believe that I have told you everything?"
"Yes, Henriot, and you are a good fellow. Do you think that those who hate you have grown weary, or will new attempts be made on your life?"
"Sire, every evening I am surprised to find myself still living." ”