D'Alençon drew from his doublet a silver whistle, suspended from a gold chain, and raised it to his lips.
De Nancey appeared.
Charles gave him some orders in a low tone.
Meanwhile Actéon, the great greyhound, had dragged a book from the table, and was tossing it about the room, making great bounds after it.
Charles turned round and uttered a terrible oath. The book was the precious treatise on hunting, of which there existed only three copies in the world.
The punishment was proportionate to the offence.
Charles seized a whip and gave the dog three whistling blows.
Actéon uttered a howl, and fled under a table covered with a large cloth which served him as a hiding-place.
Charles picked up the book and saw with joy that only one leaf was gone, and that was not a page of the text, but an engraving. He placed the volume carefully away on a shelf where Actéon could not reach it. D'Alençon looked anxiously at him. Now that the book had fulfilled its dread mission he would have liked to see it out of Charles's hands.
Six o'clock struck. It was time for the King to descend to the court-yard, already filled with horses richly caparisoned, and elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. The hunters held on their wrists their hooded falcons; some outriders carried horns wound with scarfs, in case the King, as sometimes happened, grew weary of hawking, and wished to hunt a deer or a chamois.