Monsieur de Chavigny, who at first seemed inclined to like
the joke and laughed long and loud, but a frown succeeded,
and he bit his lips with vexation.
Then the duke put to Pistache this difficult question, who
was the greatest thief in the world?
Pistache went again around the circle, but stopped at no
one, and at last went to the door and began to scratch and
bark.
“See, gentlemen,” said M. de Beaufort, “this wonderful
animal, not finding here what I ask for, seeks it out of
doors; you shall, however, have his answer. Pistache, my
friend, come here. Is not the greatest thief in the world,
Monsieur (the king’s secretary) Le Camus, who came to Paris
with twenty francs in his pocket and who now possesses ten
millions?”
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The dog shook his head.
“Then is it not,” resumed the duke, “the Superintendent
Emery, who gave his son, when he was married, three hundred
thousand francs and a house, compared to which the Tuileries
are a heap of ruins and the Louvre a paltry building?”
The dog again shook his head as if to say “no.”
“Then,” said the prisoner, “let’s think who it can be. Can
it be, can it possibly be, the `Illustrious Coxcomb, Mazarin
de Piscina,’ hey?”
Pistache made violent signs that it was, by raising and
lowering his head eight or ten times successively.
“Gentlemen, you see,” said the duke to those present, who
dared not even smile, “that it is the `Illustrious Coxcomb’
who is the greatest thief in the world; at least, according
to Pistache.”
“Let us go on to another of his exercises.”
“Gentlemen!” — there was a profound silence in the room
when the duke again addressed them — “do you not remember
that the Duc de Guise taught all the dogs in Paris to jump
for Mademoiselle de Pons, whom he styled `the fairest of the
fair?’ Pistache is going to show you how superior he is to
all other dogs. Monsieur de Chavigny, be so good as to lend
me your cane.”
Monsieur de Chavigny handed his cane to Monsieur de
Beaufort. Monsieur de Beaufort placed it horizontally at the
height of one foot.
“Now, Pistache, my good dog, jump the height of this cane
for Madame de Montbazon.”
“But,” interposed Monsieur de Chavigny, “it seems to me that
Pistache is only doing what other dogs have done when they
jumped for Mademoiselle de Pons.”
“Stop,” said the duke, “Pistache, jump for the queen.” And
he raised his cane six inches higher.
The dog sprang, and in spite of the height jumped lightly
over it.
“And now,” said the duke, raising it still six inches
higher, “jump for the king.”
The dog obeyed and jumped quickly over the cane.
“Now, then,” said the duke, and as he spoke, lowered the
cane almost level with the ground; “Pistache, my friend,
jump for the `Illustrious Coxcomb, Mazarin de Piscina.'”
The dog turned his back to the cane.
“What,” asked the duke, “what do you mean?” and he gave him
the cane again, first making a semicircle from the head to
the tail of Pistache. “Jump then, Monsieur Pistache.”
But Pistache, as at first, turned round on his legs and
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stood with his back to the cane.
Monsieur de Beaufort made the experiment a third time, but
by this time Pistache’s patience was exhausted; he threw
himself furiously upon the cane, wrested it from the hands
of the prince and broke it with his teeth.
Monsieur de Beaufort took the pieces out of his mouth and
presented them with great formality to Monsieur de Chavigny,
saying that for that evening the entertainment was ended,
but in three months it should be repeated, when Pistache
would have learned a few new tricks.
Three days afterward Pistache was found dead — poisoned.
Then the duke said openly that his dog had been killed by a
drug with which they meant to poison him; and one day after
dinner he went to bed, calling out that he had pains in his
stomach and that Mazarin had poisoned him.
This fresh impertinence reached the ears of the cardinal and