Chicot

“ Chicot laughed; the poor monk fancied he had received the blows given to Mayenne.
“You laugh, M. Chicot.”
“I do, animal.”
“Then I shall live?”
“Perhaps.”
“You would not laugh if your Gorenflot was about to die.”
“It does not depend upon me, but on the king; he alone has the power of life and death.”
At this moment lights appeared, and a crowd of embroidered dresses and swords shining in the light of the torches.
“Ah! Chicot! my dear Chicot, how glad I am to see you,” cried the king.
“You hear, good M. Chicot,” whispered Gorenflot, “this great prince is glad to see you.” ”

“ Nobody knew where Chicot lived. A man—even a nég créol—who lives among the reeds and willows of Bayou St. John, in a deserted chicken-coop constructed chiefly of tarred paper, is not going to boast of his habitation or to invite attention to his domestic appointments. When, after market hours, he vanished in the direction of St. Philip street, limping, seemingly bent under the weight of his gunny-bag, it was like the disappearance from the stage of some petty actor whom the audience does not follow in imagination beyond the wings, or think of till his return in another scene. ”

“ This illusion to the estrangement of the king and queen made everyone laugh.
Monsoreau then whispered to Chicot, “Pray withdraw with me into that window, I wish to speak to you.” When they were alone, he went on, “Now, M. Chicot, buffoon as you are, a gentleman forbids you; do you understand? forbids you to laugh at him, and to remember that others may finish what M. de Mayenne began.” ”

“ At last the mass opened, and a monk, mounted on a donkey, appeared. The monk spoke and gesticulated, and the ass brayed.
“Ventre de biche!” cried Chicot, “listen to the preacher.”
“A preacher on a donkey!” cried Quelus.
“Why not?”
“He is Silenus,” said Maugiron.
“Which is the preacher?” said the king, “for they speak both at once.”
“The underneath one is the most eloquent,” said Chicot, “but the one at the top speaks the best French; listen, Henri.”
“My brethren,” said the monk, “Paris is a superb city; Paris is the pride of France, and the Parisians a fine people.” ”

“ Chicot retorted, and a quarrel seemed approaching, when Chicot, feeling some one touch his arm, turned, and saw the king disguised as a simple bourgeois, and accompanied by Quelus and Maugiron, also disguised, and carrying an arquebuse on their shoulders.
“What!” cried the king, “good Catholics disputing among themselves; par la mordieu, it is a bad example.”
“Do not mix yourself with what does not concern you,” replied Chicot, without seeming to recognize him. But a new influx of the crowd distracted the attention of La Hurière, and separated the king and his companions from the hotel. ”

“ Luc, “but some day he will find his master.”
“Oh!” said the king, “he manages the sword well. Why does he not get bit by some dog?” And he threw a spiteful glance on Bussy, who was walking about, laughing at all the king’s friends.
“Corbleu!” cried Chicot, “do not be so rude to my friends, M. Bussy, for I draw the sword, though I am a king, as well as if I was a common man.”
“If he continue such pleasantries, I will chastise Chicot, sire,” said Maugiron.
“No, no, Maugiron, Chicot is a gentleman. Besides, it is not he who most deserves punishment, for it is not he who is most insolent.” ”

“ Chicot, once in the saddle, was determined not to stop until he reached a place of safety, and he went as quickly as constant fresh relays of horses could manage. He himself seemed made of iron, and, at the end of sixty leagues, accomplished in twenty hours, to feel no fatigue. When, thanks to this rapidity, in three days he reached Bordeaux, he thought he might take breath. A man can think while he gallops, and Chicot thought much. What kind of prince was he about to find in that strange Henri, whom some thought a fool, others a coward, and all a renegade without firmness. ”

“ Chicot opened one eye.
“Ah, you were wrong to call me, Henri,” said he; “I was dreaming that you had a son.”
“But listen.”
“To what? You say enough follies to me by day, without breaking in on my nights.”
“But do you not hear?”
“Oh, oh! I do hear cries.”
“Do you hear, ‘What will the king say?’”
“It is one of two things—either your dog Narcissus is ill, or the Huguenots are taking their revenge for St. Bartholomew.”
“Help me to dress.”
“If you will first help me to get up.”
“What a misfortune!” sounded from the antechamber.
“Shall we arm ourselves?” said the king. ”

“ The husband of La Chicot, a being in himself so worthless, so aimless and obscure that no one ever took the trouble to inquire his real name. His wife’s name—the name made notorious by a ballet-dancer, the goddess of medical students and lawyers’ clerks—was good enough for him. In himself and by himself he was nothing. He was only the husband of La Chicot, a woman who drank like a fish and swore like a trooper.
It was a sorry pass for a man to have come to in whom the sense of shame was not utterly dead. ”

“ Smolendo’s expectations were fully realised. La Chicot made a hit at the Prince Frederick. Those flaming posters under every railway arch and on every hoarding in London were not in vain. The theatre was crowded nightly, and La Chicot was applauded to the echo. She breathed anew the intoxicating breath of success, and she grew daily more insolent and more reckless, spent more money, drank more champagne, and was more eager for pleasure, flattery, and fine dress. The husband looked on with a gloomy face. ”

“ Henri looked at him smilingly, but with curiosity.
"You will think I am very curious, dear M. Chicot," began the king, "but I cannot help it. I have so long looked on you as dead, that in spite of the pleasure your resurrection causes me, I can hardly realize the idea. Why did you so suddenly disappear from this world?"
"Oh, sire!" said Chicot, with his usual freedom, "you disappeared from Vincennes. Every one eclipses himself according to his need." ”

“ He took it and retired, and was soon out of Paris. The rest of the assembly dispersed gradually, crying, “Vive le Roi! and Vive la Ligue!”
“Oh, sire!” cried the favorites, approaching the king, “what a sublime idea you have had!”
“They think that gold is going to rain on them like manna,” said Chicot, who followed his master about everywhere with lamentations. As soon as they were left alone, “Ah! M. Chicot!” said Henri, “you are never content. Diable! I do not ask even for complaisance, but for good sense.”
“You are right, Henri; it is what you want most.” ”

“ The window was open, and the ladder still hung from it. Henri grew as pale as death.
“Oh, my son, you are not so blasé as I thought!” said Chicot.
“Escaped!” cried Henri, in such a thundering voice that all the gentlemen who were crowded round the window turned in terror. Schomberg tore his hair, Quelus and Maugiron struck themselves like madmen; as for D’Epernon, he had vanished. This sight calmed the king.
“Gently, my son,” said he, laying hold of Maugiron.
“No! mordieu!” cried he, “I will kill myself!” and he knocked his head against the wall. ”

“ The window of Gorenflot's room opened with folding-doors on to a balcony, and Chicot saw them open, and Gorenflot come out, with his most gallant manner and winning smile, leading a lady almost hidden under a mantle of velvet and fur.
"Oh!" thought Chicot, "here is the penitent. She looks young; it is very odd, but I find resemblances in every one I see. And here comes the squire; as for him, there is no mistake; I know him, and if he be Mayneville—ventre de biche!—why should not the lady be Madame de Montpensier? And, morbleu! that woman is the duchess!" ”

“ But Chicot did not reply, for he was not there; and Henri found the armchair empty.
He looked all round the room, but Chicot was not to be seen. The king gave a superstitious shudder; it sometimes came into his mind that Chicot was a supernatural being—a diabolic incarnation, of a good kind, it was true, but still diabolical.
He called Nambu the usher, and questioned him, and he assured his majesty that he had seen Chicot go out five minutes before the duke's messenger left.
"Decidedly," thought Henri, "Chicot was vexed at being in the wrong. How ill-natured men are, even the best of them." ”

“ The house still retained that gray and somber aspect which the imagination bestows as their natural color upon buildings whose character it seems to know.
"It cannot yet be their time for retiring to rest," said Chicot; "and besides, those fellows, I am sure, are not very sound sleepers; so let us see."
He descended his staircase, crossed the road—forming, as he did so, his features into their most amiable and gracious expression—and knocked at his neighbor's door. ”

“ At all events, three cowards together have less fear than one brave man alone. At last they reached Etampes, the town fixed on for supper and sleeping. They supped, and then each went to his room.
Chicot, who had not been sparing during the repast, either of his fun, which amused his companions, or of the Muscat and Burgundy, went to bed, after having settled to travel again with the grocers on the morrow. Chicot, therefore, thought himself guarded like a prince by the four travelers, whose rooms were in the same corridor and close to his own. ”

“ Often he heard the sound of heavy wheels, and then saw coming along the wagon of the vintages, full of casks and of children with red faces. Sometimes an arquebuse from behind a hedge, or vines, or fig-trees, made him tremble for fear of an ambush, but it always turned out to be a hunter, followed by his great dogs, traversing the plain, plentiful in hares, to reach the mountain, equally full of partridges and heathcocks. Although the season was advanced, and Chicot had left Paris full of fog and hoar-frost, it was here warm and fine. ”

“ I and Panurge have come from Villeneuve-le-Roi, in three days, to assist at this great solemnity; now we see, but we do not understand. What is passing, my brothers? Is it to-day that they depose Herod? Is it to-day that they put brother Henri in a convent?—Gentlemen,” continued he, “I left Paris with two friends; Panurge, who is my ass, and Chicot, who is his majesty’s jester. Can you tell me what has become of my friend Chicot?”
Chicot made a grimace.
“Oh,” said the king, “he is your friend.” Quelus and Maugiron burst out laughing. “He is handsome and respectable,” continued the king. ”

“ Once Chicot thought he had found him in the Rue Bethisy; a numerous group was standing at the door of a wine-merchant; and in this group Chicot recognized M. de Monsoreau and M. de Guise, and fancied that the Duc d’Anjou could not be far off. But he was wrong. MM. de Monsoreau and Guise were occupied in exciting still more an orator in his stammering eloquence. This orator was Gorenflot, recounting his journey to Lyons, and his duel in an inn with a dreadful Huguenot. M. de Guise was listening intently, for he began to fancy it had something to do with the silence of Nicolas David. ”

“ At last, Jacques rushed a last time on Chicot, who, parrying his thrust with force, threw the poor fellow off his equilibrium, and he fell, while Chicot himself remained firm as a rock.
"You did not tell us you were a pillar," said Borromée, biting his nails with vexation.
"I, a poor bourgeois!" said Chicot.
"But, monsieur, to manage a sword as you do, you must have practiced enormously."
"Oh! mon Dieu! yes, monsieur, I have often held the sword, and have always found one thing."—"What is that?"
"That for him who holds it, pride is a bad counselor and anger a bad assistant. ”

“ Besides, what harm if he does talk nonsense to Madame de Monsoreau? He is the gallant of the family, you know.”
“I am lost!” murmured the count, trying to go away. But Chicot detained him.
“Keep still; mordieu! you shake the king’s chair. Mort de ma vie, your wife will be quite happy with the prince to talk to, and M. Aurilly to play the lute to her.” Monsoreau trembled with anger.
“Quietly, monsieur,” continued Chicot; “hide your joy, here is the business beginning; you should not show your feelings so openly; listen to the discourse of the king.” ”

“ As for Chicot, he had escaped at the Porte Montmartre, and, with Brother Gorenflot, had entered a public-house, where he had eaten and drank. Then he had rejoined the procession and returned to the Louvre.
In the evening the king, fatigued with his fast and his exercise, ordered himself a light supper, had his shoulders washed, and then went to visit St. Luc.
“Ah!” cried he, “God has done well to render life so bitter.”
“Why so, sire?”
“Because then man, instead of fearing death, longs for it.” ”

“ Chicot soon wounded his adversary, who was very corpulent, between the ribs; he fell, and Chicot, putting his foot on his sword to prevent him from using it, cut the strings of his mask.
"M. de Mayenne! ventre de biche, I thought so," said he.
The duke did not reply; he had fainted from the loss of blood and the weight of his fall. Chicot drew his dagger, and was about coolly to cut off his head, when his arm was seized by a grasp of iron, and a voice said:
"Stay! monsieur; one does not kill a fallen enemy." ”

“ Chicot dressed murmuringly, while the king remained in the antechamber.
"My horse," cried Henri; "and tell M. de Mornay that I am ready."
"What! is M. de Mornay chief huntsman?" asked Chicot.
"M. de Mornay is everything here," replied Henri. "I am so poor, than I can afford but one man."
"Yes; but he is a good one."
Chicot found the preparations much less sumptuous than those of Henri III. A dozen or fifteen gentlemen only, among whom he recognized the Vicomte de Turenne, formed the whole suite. ”

“ Henri grew pale. “With whom?” said he.
“With Antragues?”
“On the contrary, he killed a lackey of Quelus’s.”
“Oh!” murmured the king, “here is a civil war lighted up.”
Quelus started. “It is true,” said he.
“Ah,” said Chicot. “You begin to perceive it, do you?”
“But, M. Chicot, you cried with us, ‘Death to the Angevins!’”
“Oh! that is a different thing; I am a fool, and you are clever men.”
“Come, peace, gentlemen; we shall have enough of war soon.”
“What are your majesty’s orders?” ”