"Paris," murmured the King of Navarre, "there is Paris; that is, joy, triumph, glory, power, and happiness. Paris, in which is the Louvre, and the Louvre, in which is the throne; and only one thing separates me from this Paris, for which I so long, and that something the stones at my feet, which shut me in with my enemy!"
As he glanced from Paris to Vincennes, he perceived on his left, in a valley, partly hidden by flowering almond-trees, a man, whose cuirass sparkled in the sunlight at its owner's slightest movement.
This man rode a fiery steed and led another which seemed no less impatient.
The King of Navarre fixed his eyes on this cavalier and saw him draw his sword from his sheath, place his handkerchief on the point, and wave it like a signal.
At the same instant the signal was repeated from the opposite hill, then all around the château a belt of handkerchiefs seemed to flutter.
It was De Mouy and his Huguenots, who, knowing the King was dying, and fearing that some attempt might be made on Henry's life, had gathered together, ready to defend or attack.
Henry, with his eyes still on the horseman he had seen first, bent over the balustrade, and shading his eyes with his hand to keep out the dazzling rays of the sun, recognized the young Huguenot.
"De Mouy!" he exclaimed, as though the latter could hear him.
And in his joy at seeing himself surrounded by friends, the king raised his hat and waved his scarf.
All the white banners were again set in motion with an energy which proved the joy of their owners.