Die in terror of thy guiltiness,
Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death,
Fainting, despair, despairing yield thy breath
KING RICHARD III.
A few days later, when Berenger had sent out Philip, under the
keeping of the secretaries, to see the Queen-mother represent
Royalty in one of the grand processions of Rogation-tide, the
gentle knock came to his door that always announced the arrival of
his good surgeon.
'You look stronger, M. le Baron; have you yet left your room?'
'I have walked round the gallery above the hall,' said Berenger.
'I have not gone down-stairs; that is for to-morrow.'
'What would M. le Baron say if his chirurgeon took him not merely
down-stairs, but up on flight at the Louvre?'
'Ha!' cried Berenger; 'to the King?'
'It is well-nigh the last chance, Monsieur; the Queen-mother and
all her suite are occupied with services and sermons this week; and
next week private access to the King will be far more difficult. I
have waited as long as I could that you might gain strength to
support the fatigue.'
'Hope cancels fatigue,' said Berenger, already at the other end of
the room searching for his long-disused cloak, sword, gloves, hat,
and mask.
'Not the sword,' said Pare, 'so please you. M. le Baron must
condescend to obtain entrance as my assistant--the plain black
doublet--yes, that is admirable; but I did not know that Monsieur
was so tall,' he added, in some consternation, as, for the first
time, he saw his patient standing up at his full height--unusual
even in England, and more so in France. Indeed, Berenger had grown
during his year of illness, and being, of course, extremely thin,
looked all the taller, so as to be a very inconvenient subject to
smuggle into to palace unobserved.
However, Ambroise had made up his mind to the risk, and merely
assisted Berenger in assuming his few equipments, then gave him his
arm to go down the stairs. Meeting Guibert on the way, Berenger
left word with him that he was going out to take the air with
Maitre Pare; and on the man's offering to attend him, refused the
proposal.
Pare carriage waited in the court, and Berenger, seated in its
depths, rolled unseen through the streets, till he found himself at
the little postern of the Louvre, the very door whence he was to
have led off his poor Eustacie. Here Ambroise made him take off
his small black mask, in spite of all danger of his scars being
remarked, since masks were not etiquette in the palace, and,
putting into his arms a small brass-bound case of instruments,
asked his pardon for preceding him, and alighted from the carriage.
This was Ambroise's usual entrance, and it was merely guarded by a
Scottish archer, who probably observed nothing. They then mounted
the stone stair, the same where Osbert had dragged down his
insensible master; and as, at the summit, the window appeared where
Berenger had waited those weary hours, and heard the first notes of
the bell of St.-Germain-l'Auxerrois, his breath came in such
hurried sobs, that Pare would fain have given him time to recover
himself, but he gasped, 'Not here--not here;' and Pare, seeing that
he could still move on, turned, not to the corridor leading to the
King's old apartments, now too full of dreadful associations for
poor Charles, but towards those of the young Queen.