Following a private staircase, which had been so constructed as only to afford a means of communication between the various apartments of the royal family, the King descended to a large chamber, or sort of hall, with a deep window looking out towards the Loire. He found already in that chamber several of his most intimate and confidential friends and favourites, who, notwithstanding the high degree of confidence which the King placed in them, viewed the gloomy sullenness of his countenance with some sort of apprehension. In truth, when the fit was upon him, it could never be told where the blow would fall; and he often thus deprived himself of counsel and assistance in his moments of greatest need.
There were some, however, then present, whose purpose it was to exasperate the irritation which he suffered, even at the risk of injuring, in some degree, themselves; and the Maréchal d'Aumont, who had been waiting there for his return, advanced, and though the King addressed not one word to him, but walked on sullenly till he had almost touched him, he began the conversation first, speaking in a low tone. At length the King stopped abruptly, and, gazing in his face, exclaimed, "What, without my veto; without my consent and approbation? Do the States propose that their determinations be law without the King?"
"They do, Sire," replied the Maréchal d'Aumont; "and I doubt not they would consider that the approbation of the Duke of Guise would be quite sufficient. They have already made him feel that such is the case, Sire; for one of his creatures offered me not long ago, if I would attach myself to him, to make me Governor of Normandy, declaring that the States, at a word from the Duke, would make your Majesty take it from the Duke of Montpensier, to whom you had given it."
The King paused for a moment, with his hands clasped, and his eyes gazing on the ground. At length he raised them suddenly, saying, "Hark ye, D'Aumont!" and then spoke a few words in a whisper, as the Marshal bent down his ear.
D'Aumont turned somewhat pale as he listened; his brows knit, and a certain degree of wildness came into his eyes; but he answered, the moment the King had done, "I have not rightly understood your Majesty. But it seems to me, that the only way a sovereign can deal with rebellious subjects and traitors, is to cause them to be arrested, and deliver them over to their natural judges, to be tried according to law."
Henry waved his hand with a look of contemptuous disappointment, and then added, looking fixedly in D'Aumont's face, "You will be silent!"
"On my honour, Sire," replied D'Aumont; and bowing low, but with a face still pale, he quitted the chamber.
Without noticing the other gentlemen who were standing at the farther corner of the room, Henry called to a page, and descended by the staircase into the gardens. He looked up for a moment at the bright and cheerful sunshine, and then upon the clear wintry scene around; but the sight seemed only to plunge him in deeper gloom than ever; and turning to the boy he said, "Run back to the hall, and bid Monsieur Crillon come here alone."
He then stood with his arms crossed upon his chest, gazing upon the ground beneath his feet, and when Crillon approached he took him by the arm, and walked slowly on with him to the other side of the gardens. He was silent for some moments; but then turning to Crillon he said, "You are colonel of my French guards, Crillon, and there is a service which I want you and them to perform."
"Speak, Sire," replied Crillon with his bluff manner. "If there be any thing that a soldier and a man of honour can do for you, I am ready to do it."