One by one we stole up to the skylight, and the King, raising himself, glanced in, my eyes following over his shoulders. For full five minutes we were there, hearing every word, seeing every soul, and then the King bent down softly, and, laying a hand on my shoulder, motioned me back. It was not until we reached the parapet that he said anything, and it was as if he were muttering a prayer to himself.
When we got back I helped him to dress. He did not, however, resume his roquelaure or hat, but stood playing with the hilt of his sword, letting his eye run backward and forward over the vacant space in my room. At last he turned to me:
'Monsieur, you have not answered the question I put you a moment before.'
'Sire,' I answered boldly, 'is it my fault?'
He began to pull at his moustache, keeping his eyes to the ground and saying to himself, 'Sully will not be here for a little; there is time.' As for me, I took my courage in both hands and waited. So a half-minute must have passed before he spoke again.
'Monsieur, if a gentleman has wronged another, there is only one course open. There is room enough here—take your sword and your place.'
'I—I——,' I stammered. 'Your Majesty, I do not understand.'
'I never heard that monsieur le chevalier was dense in these matters. Come, sir, time presses—your place.'
'May my hand wither if I do,' I burst out 'I will never stand so before the King.'
'Not before the King, monsieur, but before a man who considers himself a little wronged, too. What! is d'Auriac so high that he cannot stoop to cross a blade with plain Henri de Bourbon?'