"At ten o'clock; and if by chance I am busy making verses, or in my cabinet writing, well—you will come in just the same, and take all the papers which you will find on the table in this red portfolio. The color is remarkable, and you cannot mistake it. I am now going to write to Ronsard."
"Adieu, sire!"
"Adieu, my father!"
"Your hand?"
"What, my hand? In my arms, in my heart, there is your place! Come, my old soldier, come!"
And Charles IX., drawing Coligny toward him as he bowed, pressed his lips to his white hair.
The admiral left the room, wiping away a tear.
Charles IX. followed him with his eyes as long as he could see, and listened as long as he could catch a sound; then, when he could no longer hear or see anything, he bent his head over toward his shoulder, as his custom was, and slowly entered his armory.
This armory was the king's favorite apartment; there he took his fencing-lessons with Pompée, and his poetry lessons with Ronsard. He had gathered there a great collection of the most costly weapons he had been able to find. The walls were hung with axes, shields, spears, halberds, pistols, and muskets, and that day a famous armorer had brought him a magnificent arquebuse, on the barrel of which were inlaid in silver these four lines, composed by the royal poet himself:
| "Pour maintenir la foy, |
| Je suis belle et fidèle. |
| Aux ennemis du Roi, |
| Je suis belle et cruelle."[1] |