Chicot the Jester Page 3

  CHAPTER III.

  HOW IT IS SOMETIMES DIFFICULT TO DISTINGUISH A DREAM FROM THEREALITY.

  Bussy had had time, before falling, to pass his handkerchiefunder his shirt, and to buckle the belt of his sword over it,so as to make a kind of bandage to the open wound whence theblood flowed, but he had already lost blood enough to make himfaint. However, during his fainting fit, this is what Bussy saw,or thought he saw. He found himself in a room with furniture ofcarved wood, with a tapestry of figures, and a painted ceiling.These figures, in all possible attitudes, holding flowers, carryingarms, seemed to him to be stepping from the walls. Between thetwo windows a portrait of a lady was hung. He, fixed to his bed,lay regarding all this. All at once the lady of the portraitseemed to move, and an adorable creature, clothed in a long whiterobe, with fair hair falling over her shoulders, and with eyesblack as jet, with long lashes, and with a skin under which heseemed to see the blood circulate, advanced toward the bed. Thiswoman was so beautiful, that Bussy made a violent effort to riseand throw himself at her feet. But he seemed to be confined inthere by bonds like those which keep the dead body in the tomb,while the soul mounts to the skies. This forced him to look atthe bed on which he was lying, and it seemed to him one of thosemagnificent beds sculptured in the reign of Francis I., to whichwere suspended hangings of white damask, embroidered in gold.

  At the sight of this woman, the people of the wall and ceilingceased to occupy his attention; she was all to him, and he lookedto see if she had left a vacancy in the frame. But suddenly shedisappeared; and an opaque body interposed itself between herand Bussy, moving slowly, and stretching its arms out as thoughit were playing blindman's buff. Bussy felt in such a passion atthis, that, had he been able, he would certainly have attackedthis importunate vision; but as he made a vain effort, the newcomerspoke:

  "Well," said he, "have I arrived at last?"

  "Yes, monsieur," said a voice so sweet that it thrilled throughBussy, "and now you may take off your bandage." Bussy made aneffort to see if the sweet voice belonged to the lady of theportrait, but it was useless. He only saw the pleasant face of ayoung man, who had just, as he was told, taken off his bandage,and was looking curiously about him.

  "To the devil with this man," thought Bussy, and he tried to speak,but fruitlessly.

  "Ah, I understand now," said the young man, approaching the bed;"you are wounded, are you not, my dear sir? Well, we will tryto cure you."

  "Is the wound mortal?" asked the sweet voice again, with a sadaccent, which brought tears into the eyes of Bussy.

  "I do not know yet, I am going to see; meanwhile, he has fainted."

  This was all Bussy heard, he seemed to feel a red-hot iron inhis side, and then lost all consciousness. Afterwards, it wasimpossible for Bussy to fix the duration of this insensibility.

  When he woke, a cold wind blew over his face, and harsh voicessounded in his ears; he opened his eyes to see if it were thepeople of the tapestry speaking, and hoping to see the lady again,looked round him. But there was neither tapestry nor ceilingvisible, and the portrait had also disappeared. He saw at hisright only a man with a white apron spotted with blood; at hisleft, a monk, who was raising his head; and before him, an oldwoman mumbling her prayers. His wondering eyes next rested ona mass of stone before him, in which he recognized the Temple,and above that, the cold white sky, slightly tinted by the risingsun. He was in the street.

  "Ah, thank you, good people," said he, "for the trouble you havetaken in bringing me here. I wanted air, but you might have givenit to me by opening the window, and I should have been betteron my bed of white damask and gold than on the bare ground. Butnever mind, there is in my pocket, unless you have paid yourselves,which would have been prudent, some twenty golden crowns; take,my friends, take."

  "But, my good gentleman," said the butcher, "we did not bringyou here, but found you here as we passed."

  "Ah, diable! and the young doctor, was he here?"

  The bystanders looked at each other.

  "It is the remains of delirium," said the monk. Then, turning toBussy, "I think you would do well to confess," said he, "therewas no doctor, poor young man; you were here alone, and as coldas death."

  Bussy then remembered having received a sword stroke, glided hishand under his doublet, and felt his handkerchief in the sameplace, fixed over his wound by his sword-belt.

  "It is singular," said he.

  Already profiting by his permission, the lookers-on were dividinghis purse.

  "Now, my friends," said he, "will you take me to my hotel?"

  "Ah, certainly," said the old woman, "poor dear young man, thebutcher is strong, and then he has his horse, on which you canride."

  "Yes, my gentleman, my horse and I are at your service."

  "Nevertheless, my son," said the monk, "I think you would do wellto confess."

  "What are you called?" asked Bussy.

  "Brother Gorenflot."

  "Well Brother Gorenflot, I trust my hour has not yet arrivedand as I am cold, I wish to get quickly home and warm myself."

  "What is your hotel called?"

  "Hotel de Bussy."

  "How!" cried all, "you belong to M. de Bussy?"

  "I am M. de Bussy himself."

  "Bussy," cried the butcher, "the brave Bussy, the scourge of theminions!" And raising him, he was quickly carried home, whilstthe monk went away, murmuring, "If it was that Bussy, I do notwonder he would not confess!"

  When he got home, Bussy sent for his usual doctor, who found thewound not dangerous.

  "Tell me," said Bussy, "has it not been already dressed?"

  "Ma foi," said the doctor, "I am not sure."

  "And was it serious enough to make me delirious?"

  "Certainly."

  "Ah!" thought Bussy, "was that tapestry, that frescoed ceiling,that bed, the portrait between the windows, the beautiful blondewoman with black eyes, the doctor blindfolded, was this all delirium?Is nothing true but my combat? Where did I fight? Ah, yes, Iremember; near the Bastile, by the Rue St. Paul. I leaned againsta door, and it opened; I shut it--and then I remember no more.Have I dreamed or not? And my horse! My horse must have beenfound dead on the place. Doctor, pray call some one."

  The doctor called a valet. Bussy inquired, and heard that theanimal, bleeding and mutilated, had dragged itself to the doorof the hotel, and had been found there.

  "It must have been a dream," thought he again: "how should aportrait come down from the wall and talk to a doctor with abandage on his eyes? I am a fool; and yet when I remember shewas so charming," and he began to describe her beauties, tillhe cried out, "It is impossible it should have been a dream;and yet I found myself in the street, and a monk kneeling byme. Doctor," said he, "shall I have to keep the house a fortnightagain for this scratch, as I did for the last?"

  "We shall see; can you walk?"

  "I seem to have quicksilver in my legs."

  "Try."

  Bussy jumped out of bed, and walked quickly round his room.

  "That will do," said the doctor, "provided that you do not goon horseback, or walk ten miles the first day."

  "Capital! you are a doctor; however, I have seen another to-night.Yes, I saw him, and if ever I meet him, I should know him."

  "I advise you not to seek for him, monsieur; one has always alittle fever after a sword wound; you should know that, who havehad a dozen."

  "Ah, mon Dieu!" cried Bussy, struck with a new idea, "did mydream begin outside the door instead of inside? Was there nomore a staircase and a passage, than there was a bed with whiteand gold damask, and a portrait? Perhaps those wretches, thinkingme dead, carried me to the Temple, to divert suspicion, shouldany one have seen them hiding. Certainly, it must be so, andI have dreamed the rest. Mon Dieu! if they have procured forme this dream which torments me so, I swear to make an end ofthem all."

  "My dear seigneur," said the doctor, "if you wish to get well,you must not agitate yourself thus."

  "Except St. Luc," continued Bu
ssy, without attending; "he actedas a friend, and my first visit shall be to him."

  "Not before five this evening."

  "If you wish it; but, I assure you, it is not going out and seeingpeople which will make me ill, but staying quietly at home."

  "Well, it is possible; you are always a singular patient; actas you please, only I recommend you not to get another woundbefore this one is healed."

  Bussy promised to do his best to avoid it, and, after dressing,called for his litter to take him to the Hotel Montmorency.