"How will you do it, eh? You amuse me."
"When there is a door, and a blackguard like you in front of it, for instance—"
"Well?" said the valet.
"Well!" retorted Benvenuto, suiting the action to the word, "I overturn the blackguard, and break in the door."
And with a blow of his fist he laid the valet sprawling on the floor, and burst in the door with a blow of his foot.
"Help!" cried the servant; "help!"
But the poor devil's cry of distress was not needed; as Benvenuto passed into the reception-room he found himself confronted by six others, evidently stationed there to receive him. He at once divined that Madame d'Etampes had been informed of his return, and had taken measures accordingly.
Under any other circumstances, armed as he was with dagger and sword, Benvenuto would have fallen upon them, and would probably have given a good account of himself, but such an act of violence in the abode of the king's mistress might have deplorable results. For the second time, contrary to his custom, common sense carried the day over wrath, and, being certain that he could at all events have audience of the king, to whose presence, as we know, he had the privilege of being admitted at any hour, he replaced his sword, already half drawn, in its scabbard, retraced his steps, pausing at every movement in his rear, like a lion in retreat, walked slowly across the courtyard, and bent his steps toward the Louvre.
Benvenuto once more assumed a calm demeanor, and walked with measured step, but his tranquillity was only apparent. Great drops of perspiration were rolling down his cheeks, and his wrath was rising mountain high within his breast, his superhuman efforts to master it making him suffer the more. Indeed, nothing could be more utterly antipathetic to his impulsive nature than delay, than the wretched obstacle of a closed door, or the vulgar insolence of a lackey. Strong men who command their thoughts are never so near despair as when they come in collision with some material obstacle and struggle to no purpose to surmount it. Benvenuto would have given ten years of his life to have some man jostle him, and as he walked along he raised his head from time to time and gazed threateningly at those who passed, as if he would say:—
"Isn't there some unfortunate wretch among you who is tired of life? If so, let him apply to me, I'm his man!"