He formed the acquaintance of a young Catholic priest, a sheep-owner, and an officer, who had joined company on the road, and were traveling together.  This chance association seemed to him to represent Navarre, learned, commercial, and military.

The officer recounted to him several sonnets which had been made on the loves of the king and the beautiful La Fosseuse, daughter of Rene de Montmorency, baron de Fosseux.

“Oh!” said Chicot; “in Paris, we believe that the king is mad about Mlle. de Rebours.”

“Oh! that is at Pau.”

“What! has the king a mistress in every town?”

“Very likely; I know that he was the lover of Mlle. de Dayelle, while I was in garrison at Castelnaudry.”

“Oh!  Mlle. Dayelle, a Greek, was she not?”

“Yes,” said the priest; “a Cyprian.”

“I am from Agen,” said the merchant; “and I know that when the king was there he made love to Mlle. de Tignonville.”

“Ventre de biche!” said Chicot; “he is a universal lover.  But to return to Mlle. Dayelle; I knew her family.”

“She was jealous and was always threatening; she had a pretty little poniard, which she used to keep on her work-table, and one day, the king went away and carried the poniard with him, saying that he did not wish any misfortune to happen to his successor.”

“And Mlle. de Rebours?”

“Oh! they quarreled.”

“Then La Fosseuse is the last?”

“Oh! mon Dieu! yes; the king is mad about her.”

“But what does the queen say?”

“She carries her griefs to the foot of the crucifix,” said the priest.

“Besides,” said the officer, “she is ignorant of all these things.”

“That is not possible,” said Chicot.

“Why so?”

“Because Nerac is not so large that it is easy to hide things there.”

“As for that, there is a park there containing avenues more than 3,000 feet long of cypresses, plane trees, and magnificent sycamores, and the shade is so thick it is almost dark in broad daylight.  Think what it must be at night.”

“And then the queen is much occupied.”

“Occupied?”

“Yes.”

“With whom, pray?”

“With God, monsieur,” said the priest.

“With God?”

“Yes, the queen is religious.”

“Religious!  But there is no mass at the palace, is there?”

“No mass; do you take us for heathens?  Learn, monsieur, that the king goes to church with his gentlemen, and the queen hears mass in her private chapel.”

“The queen?”

“Yes.”

“Queen Marguerite?”

“Yes; and I, unworthy as I am, received two crowns for officiating there; I even preached a very good sermon on the text, ’God has separated the wheat from the chaff.’  It is in the Bible, ’God will separate,’ but as it is a long time since that was written, I supposed that the thing was done.”