However, the evening came on apace, and the trumpets and clarions sounded the signal for the last course.
It was Monsieur le Duc de Guise's turn to hold the lists, and he did it in such knightly fashion as to win hearty applause from the ladies and the assembled multitude.
Then the queen, who began to breathe freely once more, rose from her seat.
It was the signal for departure.
"What! is everything over?" cried the excited and jealous king. "Wait, Mesdames, wait a moment! Is it not my turn to run a course?"
Monsieur de Vieilleville reminded the king that he had opened the lists; that the four challengers had all run the same number of courses: that they had all met with equal success, to be sure, and no one could be declared victor, but that the lists were closed and the day at an end.
"What!" retorted Henri, impatiently; "if the king is the first to enter the lists, he should be the last to leave them. I do not choose that the day should end in this way. See, there are still two unbroken lances."
"But there are no more assailants, Sire," replied Monsieur de Vieilleville.
"I beg your pardon," said the king; "do you not see that man who has kept his visor down all the time, and has not yet run? Who is it, Vieilleville?"
"Sire, I don't know,—I had not noticed him."