When, after the marriage ceremony and the banquet which immediately succeeded it were at an end, the queen and court, about three in the afternoon, took their places on the seats reserved for them, vivas and shouts of joy resounded on all sides.
But this noisy jubilation caused the fête to be marred by an accident at its very beginning. The horse of Monsieur d'Avallon, one of the captains of the Guards, terrified by the uproar, reared and leaped into the arena, and his rider, unhorsed by the shock, hit his head a terrible blow against one of the wooden barriers which made the enclosure, and he was taken up half dead, and given over to the care of the surgeons in an almost hopeless condition.
The king was much moved by this sad casualty; but his passion for games and jousting soon got the better of his sorrow.
"Poor Monsieur d'Avallon," said he, "and such a devoted subject! Let us hope at least that he will be well looked after."
And then he added,—
"Come! the races for the ring can begin at any time."
The game of the ring of that epoch was much more complicated and difficult than the one that we know. The crutch from which the ring was suspended was placed almost two thirds of the way down the lists. It was necessary to ride at a hand gallop the first third, and at a full gallop the second third, and while going at this high rate of speed to carry off the ring on the end of the lance. But the lance must not be allowed to touch the body anywhere; it must be held horizontally with the elbow, high above the head. The game was ended by riding around the arena at a trot. The prize was a diamond ring offered by the queen.
Henri II., on his white steed, magnificently caparisoned in gold and velvet, was the most superb and most graceful cavalier of all. He carried and handled his lance with admirable grace and precision, and hardly ever missed the ring. But Monsieur de Vieilleville pressed him close; and there was a moment when it seemed as if the prize would go to him. He had two rings more than the king, and but three remained to be taken; but Monsieur de Vieilleville, like an accomplished courtier, missed them all three by extraordinary ill luck, and the prize was awarded to the king.
As he received the ring, he hesitated a moment, and his look turned regretfully toward Diane de Poitiers; but the gift was offered by the queen, and it was his bounden duty to present it to the new dauphine, Mary Stuart, the bride of the day.
"Well!" he asked, in the interval which followed this first contest, "are there any hopes of saving Monsieur d'Avallon's life?"