He saw plainly, however, that his case admitted of no remedy. Go he must; and, having enough philosophy in his nature to meet inevitable evils with an unshrinking mind, he prepared to encounter all the horrors of the chase, as if they were his principal delight.
He accordingly got into his boots with as much alacrity as their nature permitted, for, each weighing fully eight pounds, they were somewhat ponderous and unmanageable. He then hastily loaded his pistols, stuck his _couteau de chasse_ in his belt, and throwing the feather from his hat, was the first ready to mount in the court-yard.
"Why, how is this, Monsieur de Fontrailles?" said the King, who in a few minutes joined him in the area where the horses were assembled. "The first at your post! You are, indeed, keen for the sport. Some one, see for Cinq Mars.--Oh! here he comes: Mount, gentlemen, mount! Our Ordinaries of the chase, and Lieutenants, await us at the _Carrefour d'Argenin_,--Mount, gentlemen, mount! Ha! have you calculated your falls for to-day, Monsieur de Fontrailles, as you spoke of this morning?" And the King's eyes glistened with almost childish eagerness for his favourite pastime.
In the mean while, Cinq Mars had approached with a slow step and a gloomy countenance, showing none of the alacrity of Fontrailles, or the enthusiastic ardour of the King. "There are other dangers than falls to be met with in chase, my liege," said the Master of the Horse, with a bitter expression of displeasure in his manner; "and that Claude de Blenau could inform your Majesty."
"I know not what you mean, Cinq Mars," answered the King. "De Blenau is a gallant cavalier; as staunch to his game as a beagle of the best; and though he shows more service to our Queen than to ourself, he is no less valued for that."
"He is one cavalier out of ten thousand--" replied Cinq Mars, warmly: "my dearest companion and friend; and whilst Cinq Mars has a sword to wield, De Blenau shall never want one to second his quarrel."
"Why, what ails thee, Cinq Mars?" demanded the King with some surprise. "Thou art angry,--what is it now?"
"It is, Sire," replied the Master of the Horse, "that I have just had a courier from St. Germain, who bears me word, that, three days since past, the Count, as your Majesty and I have often done, was hunting in the neighbourhood of Mantes, and was there most treacherously attacked by an armed band, in which adventure he suffered two wounds that nearly drained his good heart of blood. Shall this be tolerated, Sire?"