Chicot went out; but, after taking a few steps, returned just in time to see Henri let in—­not a woman, but a man.  Chicot put his eye to the large keyhole.

The man took off his hat, and Chicot saw the noble but severe face of Duplessis-Mornay, the rigid and vigilant counselor of Henri of Navarre.

“Ah!” thought Chicot, “this will annoy our lover more than I did.”

But Henri’s face showed only joy; and after locking the door, he sat down eagerly to examine some maps, plans, and letters, which his minister had brought him.  The king then began to write and to mark the maps.

“Oh! this is the way Henri of Navarre makes love,” thought Chicot.

At this moment he heard steps behind him, and fearful of being surprised, he turned hastily away, and, seeing the page, asked for his room.

“Come with me, if you please, monsieur,” said D’Aubiac, “and I will conduct you.”

Chicot began to understand the king of Navarre.  Therefore, instead of going to sleep, he sat somber and thoughtful on his bed, while the moon shed its silver light over stream and meadows.

“Henri is a real king, and he conspires,” thought Chicot.  “All this palace, park, town—­the whole province—­is a focus of conspiracy.  All the women make love, but it is political love; and all the men live in the hope of a future.  Henri is clever, his talent borders on genius, and he is in communication with Spain, the land of deceit.  Who knows if even his noble answer to the ambassador was not a farce, and if he did not warn the ambassador of it by some sign unknown to me?  Henri has spies; those beggars were nothing more nor less than gentlemen in disguise.  Those pieces of gold, so artistically cut, were pledges of recognition—­rallying signs.

“Henri feigns to care for nothing but love and pleasure, and then passes his time working with Mornay, who never seems to sleep, and does not know what love means.  Queen Marguerite has lovers, and the king knows it, and tolerates them, because he has need of them, or of her—­perhaps of both.  Happily, God, in giving him the genius for intrigue, did not add to it that of war; for they say he is afraid of the noise of musketry, and that when he was taken, when quite young, to battle, he could not stay more than a quarter of an hour in the saddle.  It is lucky, for if he had the arm, as well as the head, this man might do anything.

“There is certainly the Duc de Guise, who has both, but he has the disadvantage of being known as brave and skillful, so that every one is on their guard against him, while no one fears the Bearnais.  I alone have seen through him.  Well, having seen through him, I have no more to do here; so while he works or sleeps, I will go quietly out of the city.  There are not many ambassadors, I think, who can boast of having fulfilled their mission in one day, as I have.  So I will leave Nerac, and gallop till I am in France.”  And he began to put on his spurs.