You tell me that it is in order to reveal the character of the person; that Coitier does not love the king, whom he attends, and that, this morning, in particular, he is angry with him for a crime which he had failed to commit the previous day. It would have been more logical for Coitier to be angry with Louis XI. for the crimes he has committed than for those which he has failed to commit, all the more since, with regard to the former, he would have had plenty to choose from. However, here is the crime—
"COITIER.
Hier, sur ces remparts,
Un pâtre que je quitte attira ses regards;
Des archers du Plessis l'adresse meurtrière
Faillit, en se jouant, lui ravir la lumière!"
Which is equivalent to saying that the poor devil for whom Coitier, the night before, had ordered a draught of the soothing syrup which would cool his wound, had received an arrow from a cross-bow, either in the arm or in the leg, it matters not where. But how can a draught cool a wound unless the remedy be so efficacious that it can both be administered as a drink and applied as a poultice? Now we will return to the question we proposed a little while ago: Why, instead of going to attend the king, who is impatient for him, does Coitier rouse Comines out of his dreams? Bless me, what a question! Why, to develop the tragedy. Now, this is what one learns in the development: that Comines, who, in conjunction with Coitier, has saved Nemours, takes with both hands all that Louis XI. gives him, in order to give it all back again, in the future, to his future son-in-law. Coitier complains bitterly, on his side, of the life led by the doctor to a king, and in such round terms, that, if the king heard, he would certainly change his doctor. The conversation is interrupted by Comines's daughter, Marie, who arrives on foot, quite alone, at half-past four in the morning!—where from, do you think? From looking for St. Francis de Paul. Where has she been to look for him? History does not say, no more than it does where Marie slept; it is, however, a question natural enough for a father to address to his daughter. But Marie relates such beautiful stories of the saint, who only needs canonisation to make him a complete saint, that Comines thinks of nothing else but of listening to her.
MARIE.
Le saint n'empruntait par sa douce majesté
Au sceptre pastoral dont la magnificence
Des princes du conclave alleste la puissance:
Pauvre, et, pour crosse d'or, un rameau dans les mains,
Pour robe, un lin grossier, traînant sur les chemins;
C'est lui, plus humble encor qu'an fond de sa retraite!
COITIER.
Et que disait tout has cet humble anachorète,
En voyant la litière où le faste des cours
Prodiguait sa mollesse au vieux prélat de Tours,
Et ce cheval de prix dont l'amble doux et sage
Pour monseigneur de Vienne abrégeait le voyage?
MARIE.
Tous les deux, descendus, marchaient à ses côtés."
Attention! for I am going to put a question to which I challenge you to give an answer—
"Tous les deux, descendus, marchaient à ses côtés!"
Who is it who walks beside the humble anchorite? Was it the litter? Was it the old prelate? Was it monseigneur from Vienna? Was it the horse? If we take the sense absolutely given by the construction of the sentence, it was not the prelate of Tours and the monseigneur of Vienna who stepped down, the one from his litter, the other from his horse, but the horse and the litter, on the contrary, who stepped down, the one from the old prelate of Tours, the other from the monseigneur of Vienna. The difficulty of understanding this riddle no doubt decides Coitier to return to the king, leaving Marie alone with her father. Then, Marie tells the latter a second piece of news, much more interesting than the first, namely, that the Comte de Rethel has arrived.
"MARIE.
Berthe, dont je le tiens, l'a su du damoisel
Qui portait la bannière où, vassal de la France,
Sous la fleur de nos rois, le lion d'or s'élance!"
Which means, if I am not deceived, that the Comte de Rethel bears the arms of gules either of azure on a golden lion, with a fleur-de-lys au chef. One thing makes Marie especially happy: that the Comte de Rethel is going to give her news of Nemours, whom he left at Nancy. In fact, Nemours, whose father has been executed, cannot return to France without exposing himself to capital punishment. Chanting is heard at this juncture; it is the procession of St. Francis de Paul, which is coming.
"Entendez-vous ces chants, dans la forêt voisine?"