Chicot divided it equally, and gave the king back half.  Then he poured himself out some wine, passed from the soup to a pate made of tunny fish, then to stuffed crab, swallowed as a finish the royal broth, then, with a great sigh, said: 

“I can eat no more.”

“Par la mordieu!  I hope not, Chicot.”

“Ah! good-morning, my king.  How are you?  You seem to me very gay this morning.”

“Am I not, Chicot?”

“You have quite a color; is it your own?”

“Parbleu!”

“I compliment you on it.”

“The fact is, I feel very well this morning.”

“I am very glad of it.  But have you no little tit-bits left for breakfast?”

“Here are cherries preserved by the ladies of Montmartre.”

“They are too sweet.”

“Nuts stuffed with raisins.”

“Bah! they have left the stones in the raisins.”

“You are not content with anything.”

“Well! really, on my word, everything degenerates, even cooking, and you begin to live very badly at your court.”

“Do they live better at that of the king of Navarre?”

“Well!—­I do not say no.”

“Then there must be great changes.”

“Ah! you do not know how right you are.”

“Tell me about your journey! that will amuse me.”

“Willingly; that is what I came for.  Where shall I begin?”

“At the beginning.  How did you make your journey?”

“Oh! delightfully.”

“And met with no disagreeable adventures—­no bad company?”

“Oh! who would dream of annoying an ambassador of his Most Christian Majesty?  You calumniate your subjects, my son.”

“I asked,” said the king, flattered by the tranquillity that reigned in his kingdom, “because you had no official character, and might have run some risk.”

“I tell you, Henriquet, that you have the most charming kingdom in the world.  Travelers are nourished gratis; they are sheltered for the love of God; they walk on flowers; and as for the wheel ruts, they are carpeted with velvet and fringed with gold.  It is incredible, but true.”

“Then you are content?”

“Enchanted.”

“Yes, yes; my police is well organized.”

“Marvelously; I must do them justice.”

“And the road is safe?”

“As that of Paradise.”

“Chicot, we are returning to Virgil.”

“To what part?”

“To the Bucolics.  ‘O fortunatos nimium!’”

“Ah! very well; but why this exception in favor of plowmen?”

“Alas! because it is not the same in towns.”

“The fact is, Henri, that the towns are the centers of corruption.”

“Judge of it.  You go 500 leagues without accident, while I go only to Vincennes, three-fourths of a league, and narrowly escape assassination by the way.”

“Oh! bah!”

“I will tell you about it, my friend; I am having it written.  Without my Forty-five guardsmen I should have been a dead man.”