Chicot began to breathe; the door creaked on its hinges, and opened, and Chicot saw liberty through it.

“Adieu! monsieur,” said he, advancing.

“Adieu!  M. Chicot, a pleasant journey.—­But stay, one moment; I have forgotten to ask for your pass,” cried he, seizing Chicot by the sleeve to stop him.

“How! my pass?”

“Certainly, M. Chicot; you know what a pass is?  You understand that no one can leave a town like Nerac without a pass, particularly when the king is in it.”

“And who must sign this pass?”

“The king himself; so if he sent you he cannot have forgotten to give you a pass.”

“Ah! you doubt that the king sent me?” cried Chicot, with flashing eyes, for he saw himself on the point of failing, and had a great mind to kill the officer and sentinel, and rush through the gate.

“I doubt nothing you tell me, but reflect that if the king gave you this commission—­”

“In person, monsieur.”

“All the more reason, then:  if he knows you are going out, I shall have to give up your pass to-morrow morning to the governor.”—­“And who is he?”

“M. de Mornay, who does not jest with disobedience, M. Chicot.”

Chicot put his hand to his sword, but another look showed him that the outside of the gate was defended by a guard who would have prevented his passing if he had killed the officer and sentinel.

“Well!” said Chicot to himself, with a sigh; “I have lost my game,” and he turned back.

“Shall I give you an escort, M. Chicot?” said the officer.

“No, thank you.”

Chicot retraced his steps, but he was not at the end of his griefs.  He met the chief of the watch, who said, “What! have you finished your commission already, M. Chicot?  Peste! how quick you are!”

A little further on the cornet cried to him, “Well, M. Chicot, what of the lady; are you content with Nerac?”

Finally, the soldier in the courtyard said, “Cordieu!  M. Chicot, the tailor has not done his work well; you seem more torn than when you went out.”

Chicot did not feel inclined to climb back through the window:  but by chance, or rather by charity, the door was opened, and he returned into the palace.  Here he saw the page, who said, “Dear M. Chicot, shall I give you the key to all this?”

“Yes, serpent,” murmured Chicot.

“Well! the king loves you so much, he did not wish to lose you.”

“And you knew, and never told me?”

“Oh!  M. Chicot, impossible!  It was a state secret.”

“But I paid you, knave.”

“Oh! dear M. Chicot, the secret was worth more than ten pistoles.”

Chicot returned to his room in a rage.

CHAPTER LII.

How they hunted the wolf in Navarre.

When Marguerite left the king, she went at once to the apartments of the maids of honor, and performed her promise with regard to Fosseuse.  When she returned, the king thanked her warmly, and then went up to Chicot’s room, where he found him still asleep.  Henri shook him to wake him.  “Come, compere,” said he, “get up, it is two in the morning.”