In the evening, when all was almost over, and the company ready to
break up, so it was for the misfortune of the State, that the King
would needs break another lance; he sent orders to the Count de
Montgomery, who was a very dextrous combatant, to appear in the lists.
The Count begged the King to excuse him, and alleged all the reasons
for it he could think of; but the King, almost angry, sent him word he
absolutely commanded him to do it. The Queen conjured the King not to
run any more, told him he had performed so well that he ought to be
satisfied, and desired him to go with her to her apartments; he made
answer, it was for her sake that he would run again; and entered the
barrier; she sent the Duke of Savoy to him to entreat him a second time
to return, but to no purpose; he ran; the lances were broke, and a
splinter of the Count de Montgomery's lance hit the King's eye, and
stuck there.
The King fell; his gentlemen and Monsieur de Montmorency,
who was one of the Mareschals of the field, ran to him; they were
astonished to see him wounded, but the King was not at all
disheartened; he said, that it was but a slight hurt, and that he
forgave the Count de Montgomery. One may imagine what sorrow and
affliction so fatal an accident occasioned on a day set apart to mirth
and joy. The King was carried to bed, and the surgeons having examined
his wound found it very considerable. The Constable immediately called
to mind the prediction which had been told the King, that he should be
killed in single fight; and he made no doubt but the prediction would
be now accomplished. The King of Spain, who was then at Brussels, being
advertised of this accident, sent his physician, who was a man of great
reputation, but that physician judged the King past hope.
A Court so divided, and filled with so many opposite interests, could
not but be in great agitation on the breaking out of so grand an event;
nevertheless all things were kept quiet, and nothing was seen but a
general anxiety for the King's health. The Queens, the Princes and
Princesses hardly ever went out of his anti-chamber.
Madam de Cleves, knowing that she was obliged to be there, that she
should see there the Duke de Nemours, and that she could not conceal
from her husband the disorder she should be in upon seeing him, and
being sensible also that the mere presence of that Prince would justify
him in her eyes and destroy all her resolutions, thought proper to
feign herself ill. The Court was too busy to give attention to her
conduct, or to enquire whether her illness was real or counterfeit; her
husband alone was able to come at the truth of the matter, but she was
not at all averse to his knowing it. Thus she continued at home,
altogether heedless of the great change that was soon expected, and
full of her own thoughts, which she was at full liberty to give herself
up to.