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.