'Come, gentlemen,' said de Belin, 'if we delay longer we shall miss the cinque-pace—one health round, and let us start.'
As he spoke, a number of long-necked glasses filled with the wine of Champagne were brought to us. Holding his glass high above his head, de Belin called out:
'Gentlemen—the King.'
The toast was drunk with a cheer in which my voice alone was still; but I joined with the others in shivering my glass to fragments on the white marble of the floor, and then, a gay, laughing crowd, we took horse for the Louvre.
As we trotted along, I could not help wondering to myself at my own outward gaiety, and whether the same bright mask covered thoughts as dark as mine in my companions' hearts. Who, on looking at de Belin and hearing the frivol of his talk, or on casting a glance at the red and honest face of de Vitry, would imagine that these men were hilt-deep in the intrigues of the court? Perhaps the stately Bellegarde, the cynical lord of Valryn, the Thersites of his day, whose ribald tongue had silenced even de Sancy, and that devil-may-care d'Aubusson, were up to the elbows in the same pie!
Absorbed for a moment or so in these reflections I became silent, and was only aroused by Bellegarde riding up alongside of me and calling out—
'A tester for your thoughts, chevalier, and three hundred pistoles for your nag.'
'My thoughts would be expensive at that price, duc, and the pistoles will not buy Couronne.'
'Morbleu! Then name your own price. 'Tis just such a horse as that I have dreamed of to lead the King's House against M. de Savoye.'
'I may need her for the Italian war myself, monseigneur. No, Couronne is not for sale. She bears too heavy a stake for us to part.'