“What are these swords, sire?” said Schomberg.
“Italian swords, my son, forged at Milan.”
“Thanks, sire.”
“Now go, it is time,” said the king, who could hardly control his emotion.
“Sire,” said Quelus, “shall we not have your majesty’s presence to encourage us?”
“No, that would not be right; you will be supposed to fight without any one being cognizant of it, and without my sanction. Let it appear to be the result of a private quarrel.”
When they were gone, the king threw himself down in tears.
“Now,” said Chicot, “I will go to see this duel, for I have an idea that something curious will happen with regard to D’Epernon.” And he went off.
Henri shut himself up in his own room, first saying to Crillon, who knew what was to take place, “If we are conquerors, Crillon, come and tell me; if not, strike three blows on the door.”