THE FATE OF RICHELIEU.
Born beneath two mighty stars,
Mercury with Mars combined,
He shall prompt a thousand wars,
Nor live the balm of peace to find.
Less than a King, yet Kings shall fall
And tremble at his fatal sway;
Yet at life’s end he shall recall
The memory of no happy day.
And the last year that he shall know,
Shall see him fall, and see him rise;
Shall see him yield, yet slay his foe,
And scarcely triumph ere he dies.
Begot in factions, nursed in strife,
Till all his troubled years be past,
Cunning and care eat up his life,—
A slave and tyrant, first and last.
PERE LE ROUGE.
Chavigni gazed at the paper in amazement, and then at the face of Monsieur Callot, who, totally unconscious of the contents, remained very nonchalantly expecting the reward. “Ten thousand crowns!” cried the Statesman, giving way to his passion. “Ho! without there! take this fellow out and flog him with your hunting whips out of Narbonne. Away with him, and curry him well!”
The grooms instantly seized upon poor Callot, and executed Chavigni’s commands with high glee. The robber, however, though somewhat surprised, bore his flagellation very patiently; for under the jerkin which he wore, still lay the rusty iron corslet we have before described, which saved him from appreciating the blows at their full value.
The matter, however, was yet to be remembered, as we shall see; for when Callot, on his return to the forest, informed his captain what sort of reward he had received for the packet, the Norman’s gigantic limbs seemed to swell to a still greater size with passion, and drawing his sword he put the blade to his lips, swearing, that before twelve months were over, it should drink Chavigni’s blood: and promises of such sort he usually kept most punctually.