Chicot and the King.

That same evening M. de Monsoreau presented his wife in the queen’s circle. Henri, tired, had gone to bed, but after sleeping three or four hours, he woke, and feeling no longer sleepy, proceeded to the room where Chicot slept, which was the one formerly occupied by St. Luc; Chicot slept soundly, and the king called him three times before he woke. At last he opened his eyes and cried out, “What is it?”

“Chicot, my friend, it is I.”

“You; who?”

“I, Henri.”

“Decidedly, my son, the pheasants must have disagreed with you; I warned you at supper, but you would eat so much of them, as well as of those crabs.”

“No; I scarcely tasted them.”

“Then you are poisoned, perhaps. Ventre de biche! how pale you are!”

“It is my mask,” said the king.

“Then you are not ill?”

“No.”

“Then why wake me?”

“Because I am annoyed.”

“Annoyed! if you wake a man at two o’clock in the morning, at least you should bring him a present. Have you anything for me?”

“No; I come to talk to you.”

“That is not enough.”

“Chicot, M. de Morvilliers came here last evening.”

“What for?”

“To ask for an audience. What can he want to say to me, Chicot?”

“What! it is only to ask that, that you wake me?”

“Chicot, you know he occupies himself with the police.”

“No; I did not know it.”

“Do you doubt his watchfulness?”

“Yes, I do, and I have my reasons.”

“What are they?”

“Will one suffice you?”

“Yes, if it be good.”

“And you will leave me in peace afterwards?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, one day — no, it was one evening, I beat you in the Rue Foidmentel; you had with you Quelus and Schomberg.”

“You beat me?”

“Yes, all three of you.”

“How, it was you! wretch!”

“I, myself,” said Chicot, rubbing his hands, “do I not hit hard?”

“Wretch!”

“You confess, it was true?”

“You know it is, villain.”

“Did you send for M. de Morvilliers the next day?”

“You know I did, for you were there when he came.”

“And you told him the accident that had happened to one of your friends?”

“Yes.”

“And you ordered him to find out the criminal?”

“Yes.”

“Did he find him?”

“No.”

“Well, then, go to bed, Henri; you see your police is bad.” And, turning round, Chicot refused to say another word, and was soon snoring again.

The next day the council assembled. It consisted of Quelus, Maugiron, D’Epernon, and Schomberg. Chicot, seated at the head of the table, was making paper boats, and arranging them in a fleet. M. de Morvilliers was announced, and came in, looking grave.

“Am I,” said he, “before your majesty’s council?”

“Yes, before my best friends; speak freely.”

“Well, sire, I have a terrible plot to denounce to your majesty.”

“A plot!” cried all.

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Oh, is it a Spanish plot?”

At this moment the Duc d’Anjou, who had been summoned to attend the council, entered.

“My brother,” said Henri, “M. de Morvilliers comes to announce a plot to us.”

The duke threw a suspicious glance round him. “Is it possible?” he said.

“Alas, yes, monseigneur,” said M. de Morvilliers.

“Tell us all about it,” said Chicot.

“Yes,” stammered the duke, “tell us all about it, monsieur.”

“I listen,” said Henri.

“Sire, for some time I have been watching some malcontents, but they were shopkeepers, or junior clerks, a few monks and students.”

“That is not much,” said Chicot.

“I know that malcontents always make use either of war or of religion.”

“Very sensible!” said the king.

“I put men on the watch, and at last I succeeded in persuading a man from the provosty of Paris t............