He met the count's fixed, stern gaze with a proud and haughty glance, and without more words he put his head forward that Monsieur de Vieilleville might adjust his casque.
Clearly his destiny had blinded him.
Monsieur de Savoie came to renew Catherine de Médicis's entreaties that the king would leave the field.
As Henri did not trouble himself to reply to these urgent representations, the duke added in a low tone,—
"Madame Diane de Poitiers, Sire, also asked me to warn you secretly to be on your guard against him with whom you are to dispute this bout."
At Diane's name, Henri started in spite of himself, but again he repressed his emotion.
"Shall I show myself a craven, then, before my beloved?" he asked himself.
And he maintained the dignified silence of one who is importuned to depart from an unalterable resolution.
Meanwhile, Monsieur de Vieilleville, while adjusting his armor, took occasion to say to him beneath his breath,—
"Sire, I swear by the living God that for three nights I have dreamed of nothing but that some mishap would befall you to-day, and that this last day of June would be a fatal one for you."[4]