Chicot the Jester | Page 3

to lose sight of St. Luc. Sometimes
he called him to repeat to him some pleasantry, which, whether droll or
not, made St. Luc laugh heartily. Sometimes he offered him out of his
comfit box sweetmeats and candied fruits, which St. Luc found
excellent. If he disappeared for an instant, the king sent for him, and

seemed not happy if he was out of his sight. All at once a voice rose
above all the tumult.
"Oh!" said Henri, "I think I hear the voice of Chicot; do you hear, St.
Luc?--the king is angry."
"Yes, sire, it sounds as though he were quarreling with some one."
"Go and see what it is, and come back and tell me."
As St. Luc approached he heard Chicot crying:
"I have made sumptuary laws, but if they are not enough I will make
more; at least they shall be numerous, if they are not good. By the horn
of Beelzebub, six pages, M. de Bussy, are too much."
And Chicot, swelling out his cheeks, and putting his hand to his side,
imitated the king to the life.
"What does he say about Bussy?" asked the king, when St. Luc
returned. St. Luc was about to reply, when the crowd opening, showed
to him six pages, dressed in cloth of gold, covered with chains, and
bearing on their breasts the arms of their masters, sparkling in jewels.
Behind them came a young man, handsome and proud; who walked
with his head raised and a haughty look, and whose simple dress of
black velvet contrasted with the splendor of his pages. This was Bussy
d'Amboise. Maugiron, Schomberg, and Quelus had drawn near to the
king.
"See," said Maugiron, "here is the servant, but where is the master? Are
you also in disgrace with him, St. Luc?"
"Why should he follow Bussy?" said Quelus.
"Do you not remember that when his majesty did M. de Bussy the
honor to ask him if he wished to belong to him, he replied that, being of
the House of Clermont, he followed no one, and belonged to himself."
The king frowned.

"Yes," said Maugiron, "whatever you say, he serves the Duc d'Anjou."
"Then it is because the duke is greater than the king."
No observation could have been more annoying to the king than this,
for he detested the Duc d'Anjou. Thus, although he did not answer, he
grew pale.
"Come, come, gentlemen," said St. Luc, trembling, "a little charity for
my guests, if you please; do not spoil my wedding day."
"Yes," said the king, in a mocking tone; "do not spoil St. Luc's
wedding-day."
"Oh!" said Schomberg, "is Bussy allied to the Brissacs?--since St. Luc
defends him."
"He is neither my friend nor relation, but he is my guest," said St. Luc.
The king gave an angry look. "Besides," he hastened to add, "I do not
defend him the least in the world."
Bussy approached gravely behind his pages to salute the king, when
Chicot cried:
"Oh, la! Bussy d'Amboise, Louis de Clermont, Comte de Bussy, do you
not see the true Henri, do you not know the true king from the false?
He to whom you are going is Chicot, my jester, at whom I so often
laugh."
Bussy continued his way, and was about to bow before the king, when
he said:
"Do you not hear, M. de Bussy, you are called?" and, amidst shouts of
laughter from his minions, he turned his back to the young captain.
Bussy reddened with anger, but he affected to take the king's remark
seriously, and turning round towards Chicot:
"Ah! pardon, sire," said he, "there are kings who resemble jesters so
much, that you will excuse me, I hope, for having taken a jester for a

king."
"Hein," murmured Henri, "what does he say?"
"Nothing, sire," said St. Luc.
"Nevertheless, M. Bussy," said Chicot; "it was unpardonable."
"Sire, I was preoccupied."
"With your pages, monsieur," said Chicot; "you ruin yourself in pages,
and, par la mordieu, it is infringing our prerogatives."
"How so? I beg your majesty to explain."
"Cloth of gold for them, while you a gentleman, a colonel, a Clermont,
almost a prince, wear simple black velvet."
"Sire," said Bussy, turning towards the kings' minions, "as we live in a
time when lackeys dress like princes, I think it good taste for princes to
dress like lackeys."
And he returned to the young men in their splendid dress the
impertinent smiles which they had bestowed on him a little before.
They grew pale with fury, and seemed only to wait the king's
permission to fall upon Bussy.
"Is it for me and mine that you say that?" asked Chicot, speaking like
the king.
Three friends of Bussy's now drew near to him. These were Charles
d'Antragues, François, Vicomte