Royalty fed in public. The sumptuous banqueting-room contained a

barrier, partitioning off a space where Charles IX. sat alone at

his table, as a State spectacle. He was a sallow, unhealthy-

looking youth, with large prominent dark eyes and a melancholy

dreaminess of expression, as if the whole ceremony, not to say the

world itself, were distasteful. Now and then, as though

endeavouring to cast off the mood, he would call to some gentleman

and exchange a rough jest, generally fortified with a tremendous

oath, that startled Berenger's innocent ears. He scarcely tasted

what was put on his plate, but drank largely of sherbet, and seemed

to be trying to linger through the space allotted for the ceremony.

Silence was observed, but not so absolute that Walsingham could not

point out to his young companions the notabilities present. The

lofty figure of Henri, Duke of Guise, towered high above all around

him, and his grand features, proud lip, and stern eye claimed such

natural superiority that Berenger for a moment felt a glow on his

cheek as he remembered his challenge of his right to rival that

splendid stature. And yet Guise was very little older than

himself; but he walked, a prince of men, among a crowd of

gentlemen, attendants on him rather than on the King. The elegant

but indolent-looking Duke de Montmorency had a much more attractive

air, and seemed to hold a kind of neutral ground between Guise on

the one hand, and the Reformed, who mustered at the other end of

the apartment. Almost by intuition, Berenger knew the fine calm

features of the gray-haired Admiral de Coligny before he heard him

so addressed by the King's loud, rough voice. When the King rose

from table the presentations took place, but as Charles heard the

name of the Baron de Ribaumont, he exclaimed, 'What, Monsieur, are

you presented here by our good sister's representative?'

Walsingham answered for him, alluding to the negotiations for Queen

Elizabeth's marriage with one of the French princes--'Sire, in the

present happy conjuncture, it needs not be a less loyal Frenchman

to have an inheritance in the lands of my royal mistress.'

'What say you, Monsieur?' sharply demanded the King: 'are you come

here to renounce your country, religion--and love, as I have been

told?' 'I hope, Sire, never to be unfaithful where I owe faith,' said

Berenger, heated, startled, and driven to extremity.

'Not ill answered for the English giant,' said Charles aside to an

attendant: then turning eagerly to Sidney, whose transcendent

accomplishments had already become renowned, Charles welcomed him

to court, and began to discuss Ronsard's last sonnet, showing no

small taste and knowledge of poetry. Greatly attracted by Sidney,

the King detained the whole English party by an invitation to

Walsingham to hear music in the Queen-mother's apartments; and

Berenger, following in the wake of his friends, found himself in a

spacious hall, with a raised gallery at one end for the musicians,

the walls decorated with the glorious paintings collected by

Francois I., Greek and Roman statues clustered at the angles, and

cabinets with gems and antiques disposed at intervals. Not that

Berenger beheld much of this: he was absolutely dazzled with the

brilliant assembly into which he was admitted. There moved the

most beautiful women in France, in every lovely-coloured tint that

dress could assume: their bosoms, arms, and hair sparkling with

jewels; their gossamer ruffs surrounding their necks like fairy

wings; their light laugh mingling with the music, as they sat,

stood, or walked in graceful attitudes conversing with one another

or with the cavaliers, whose brilliant velvet and jewels fifty

mixed with their bright array. These were the sirens he had heard

of, the 'squadron of the Queen-mother,' the dangerous beings

against whom he was to steel himself. And which of them was the

child he had played with, to whom his vows had been plighted? It

was like some of the enchanting dreams of romance merely to look at

these fair creatures; and he stood as if gazing into a magic-glass

till Sir Francis Walsingham, looking round for him, said, 'Come,

then, my young friend, you must do your devoirs to the Queens.

Sidney, I see, is as usual in his element; the King has seized upon

him.' Catherine de Medicis was seated on a large velvet chair, conversing

with the German ambassador. Never beautiful, she appeared to more

advantage in her mature years than in her girlhood, and there was

all the dignity of a lifetime of rule in demeanour and gestures,

the bearing of her head, and motion of her exquisite hands. Her

eyes were like her son's, prominent, and gave the sense of seeing

all round at once, and her smile was to the highest degree

engaging. She received the young Baron de Ribaumont far more

graciously than Charles has done, held out her hand to be kissed,

and observed 'that the young gentleman was like Madame sa mere

whom she well remembered as much admired. Was it true that she was

married in England?' Berenger bowed assent.




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