“No, Aurilly, no,” said Remy, placing his knee on his breast.

“Le Haudoin!” cried Aurilly; “oh, I am a dead man!”

“That is not yet true, but will be in a moment,” cried Remy; and drawing his knife, he plunged the whole blade into the throat of the musician.

Diana, with haggard eyes, half turned on her saddle, and leaning on the pommel, shuddering, but pitiless, had not turned her head away from this terrible spectacle.  However, when she saw the blood spurt out from the wound, she fell from her horse as though she were dead.

Remy did not occupy himself with her at that terrible moment, but searched Aurilly, took from him the two rouleaux of gold, then tied a stone to the neck of the corpse, and threw it into the lake.  He then washed his hands in the water, took in his arms Diana, who was still unconscious, and placed her again on her horse.  That of Aurilly, frightened by the howling of the wolves, which began to draw nearer, had fled into the woods.

When Diana recovered herself, she and Remy, without exchanging a single word, continued their route toward Chateau-Thierry.

CHAPTER LXXVII.

How king Henri III.  Did not invite Crillon to breakfast, and how Chicot invited himself.

The day after the events that we have just related had taken place in the forest of La Fere, the king of France left his bath at about nine in the morning.  His valet-de-chambre, after having rolled him in a blanket of fine wool, and sponged him with that thick Persian wadding which looks like the fleece of a sheep, had given him over to the barbers and dressers, who in their turn gave place to the perfumers and courtiers.  When these last were gone, the king sent for his maitre d’hotel, and ordered something more than his ordinary bouillon, as he felt hungry that morning.  This good news spread joy throughout the Louvre, and the smell of the viands was already beginning to be perceptible, when Crillon, colonel of the French guards, entered to take his majesty’s orders.

“Ma foi, my good Crillon,” said the king, “watch as you please over my safety, but do not force me to play the king.  I am quite joyful and gay this morning, and feel as if I weighed but an ounce, and could fly away.  I am hungry, Crillon; do you understand that, my friend?”

“I understand it very well, sire, for I am very hungry myself.”

“Oh! you, Crillon,” said the king, laughing, “are always hungry.”

“Not always, sire; your majesty exaggerates—­only three times a day.”

“And I about once a year, when I receive good news.”

“Harnibleu! it appears that you have received good news, sire?  So much the better, for they become every day more rare.”

“Not at all, Crillon; but you know the proverb.”