“The king is returning,” said the Duc de Guise; “let us become monks again.” And immediately the hoods covered ardent eyes and speaking scars, and twenty or thirty monks, conducted by the three brothers, went towards the crypt.
CHAPTER LXXXVIII.
CHICOT THE FIRST.
The king visited the crypt, kissed the relics-often striking his breast, and murmuring the most doleful psalms. At last the prior said, “Sire, will it please you now to depose your earthly crown at the feet of the eternal king?”
“Let us go!” said the king.
They arrived at the cell, on the threshold of which stood Gorenflot, his eyes brilliant as carbuncles.
Henri entered. “Hic portus salutis!” murmured he.
“Yes,” replied Foulon.
“Leave us!” said Gorenflot, with a majestic gesture; and immediately the door shut, and they were left alone.