“Ah! you make me a prisoner,” cried Chicot; “I, an ambassador.  Sire, you violate the rights of nations.”

Henri began to laugh, and Chicot could not help joining him.

“You are mad,” said Henri.  “Why the devil did you want to go away from here, have you not been well treated?”

“Too well, ventre de biche! too well.  It seems to me as if I were like a goose being fattened.  Every one says to me, ’Pretty little Chicot, how gentle he is!’ but they clip my wings, and shut the doors on me.”

“Oh! reassure yourself, Chicot; you are not fat enough for my table.”

“Sire, you seem very gay this morning; what is it?”

“I am always gay when I am setting off for the chase.  Come, out of bed, compere.”

“You want me, sire?”

“Yes; you shall be my historian.”

“To count the shots?”

“Just so.”

Chicot dressed murmuringly, while the king remained in the antechamber.

“My horse,” cried Henri; “and tell M. de Mornay that I am ready.”

“What! is M. de Mornay chief huntsman?” asked Chicot.

“M. de Mornay is everything here,” replied Henri.  “I am so poor, than I can afford but one man.”

“Yes; but he is a good one.”

Chicot found the preparations much less sumptuous than those of Henri III.  A dozen or fifteen gentlemen only, among whom he recognized the Vicomte de Turenne, formed the whole suite.  And as they were none of them rich, they all wore, instead of the usual hunting dress, their helmets and cuirasses, which made Chicot ask if the wolves in Gascony used muskets and artillery.

“No,” said Henri; “but they are fierce beasts, who have claws and teeth, and draw hunters into places where they are likely to tear their clothes on the thorns, if they wear silk and velvet, or even cloth and buff, but not if they wear cuirasses.”

“That is a reason, but not a good one, sire.”

“What would you have?  I have no other.”

“Then I must be content with this.”

“You had better.”

“So be it.”

“You are angry at being disturbed for this chase.”

“Ma foi! yes.”

“So you find fault?”

“Is it forbidden?”

“Oh no.”

“You understand, sire, I am no hunter, and have nothing to do, so I must amuse myself, while you are thinking of all the wolves that a dozen men are going to kill.”

“Ah, yes, laugh away, Chicot; first it was the clothes, now the number of wolves.”

“Oh, sire!”

“But I must say you are not indulgent, for Bearn is not as large as France; so the king goes there with two hundred huntsmen, I with a dozen, as you see.”

“Yes, sire.”

“But,” said Henri, “sometimes the country gentlemen, hearing I am going, quit their chateaux and join me, which sometimes makes up a good escort for me.”

When they had ridden about half an hour—­