r was rummaging Charles's
thigh, when the latter felt somebody seize and raise his arm--a keen
bright blade flashed before his eyes, and buried itself to the hilt in the
shoulder of the brute; whilst a gauntleted hand put aside the dangerous
tusks which were already disappearing under the King's garments. Charles,
who had taken advantage of the horse's movement to disengage his leg, rose
slowly to his feet, and, seeing himself covered with blood, became as pale
as a corpse.

"Sire," said Henry, who, still on his knees, held down the boar, which he
had stabbed to the heart--"Sire, there is no harm done. I put aside the
tusk, and your Majesty is unhurt." Then, getting up, he let go his hold of
the hunting-knife, and the boar fell, the blood flowing from his mouth
even more plentifully than from the wound.

Charles, surrounded by the alarmed throng, and assailed by cries of terror
that might well have bewildered the calmest courage, was for a moment on
the point of falling senseless near the dying animal. But he recovered
himself, and turning towards the King of Navarre, pressed his hand with a
look in which was visible the first gleam of kindly feeling that he had
shown during his twenty-four years of existence.

"Thanks, Henriot," said he.

"My poor brother!" cried D'Alencon, approaching the king.

"Ah! you are there, D'Alencon?" cried Charles. "Well, you famous marksman,
what is become of your bullet?"

"It must have flattened upon the hide of the boar," said the duke.

"_Eh! mon Dieu!_" cried Henry with a surprise that was admirably acted;
"see there, Francis--your ball has broken the leg of his Majesty's horse!"

"What!" said the king; "is that true?"

"It is possible," said the duke, in great confusion; "my hand trembled so
violently."

"The fact is, that for an expert marksman you have made a singular shot,
Francis," said Charles frowning. "For the second time, thanks, Henriot.
Gentlemen," continued the king, "we will return to Paris; I have had
enough for to-day."

Margaret came up to congratulate Henry.

"_Ma foi!_ yes, Margot," said Charles, "you may congratulate him, and very
sincerely too, for without him the King of France would now be Henry the
Third."

"Alas! madam," said the Bearnais, "the Duke of Anjou, already my enemy,
will hate me tenfold for this morning's work. But it cannot be helped. One
does what one can, as M. d'Alencon will tell you."

And stooping, he drew his hunting-knife from