"He still breathes, Sire," was the reply; "but there is almost no chance that he will ever regain consciousness."
"Alas!" said the king, "let us have the gladiators' contest now."
This gladiators' contest was a mock combat with passades and manœuvring, quite new, and a great curiosity in those days; but which would have no special interest, probably, for the imagination of the spectator of our time, or of the readers of this book. We beg to refer to the pages of Brantôme those who are curious to read about the marches and counter-marches of these twelve gladiators, "of whom six were clad in white satin, and six in crimson satin, made up according to the style in vogue in ancient Rome." All of which should be of great historical interest in an age when local coloring had not been invented.
This fine contest came to an end amid general applause, and the necessary preparations were made for beginning the stake-race.
At the court end of the lists several stakes five or six feet long were stuck into the earth at regular intervals. The rules required that the contestants should ride at a hand-gallop in and out among these improvised trees in every direction, without missing or omitting a single one. The prize was a bracelet of marvellous workmanship.
Out of eight courses that were run, the honors remained with the king in three and with Monsieur le Colonel-Général de Bonnivet in a like number. The ninth and last was to be the decisive one; but Monsieur de Bonnivet was no less respectful than Monsieur de Vieilleville had been; and notwithstanding the very willing disposition of his horse, he came in third, and again Henri won the prize.
This time the king sat down beside Diane de Poitiers, and put upon her arm without concealment the bracelet he had received.
The queen turned pale with rage.
Gaspard de Tavannes, who was just behind her, leaned forward and whispered in Catherine de Médicis's ear,—
"Madame, follow me with your eyes, and see what I am going to do."