“Where shall I begin?”

“I have already said, from the beginning; but you always wander from the point.  You say that the journey was good?”

“You see I have returned whole.”

“Yes; then let me hear of your arrival in Navarre.  What was Henri doing when you arrived?”

“Making love.”

“To Margot?”

“Oh! no.”

“It would have astonished me had it been so; he is always unfaithful to his wife—­the rascal!  Unfaithful to a daughter of France!  Luckily, she pays him back.  And when you arrived, what was the name of Margot’s rival?”

“Fosseuse.”

“A Montmorency.  Come, that is not so bad for a bear of Bearn.  They spoke here of a peasant, a gardener’s daughter.”

“Oh! that is very old.”

“Then he is faithless to Margot?”

“As much as possible.”

“And she is furious?”

“Enraged.”

“And she revenges herself?”

“I believe so.”

Henri rubbed his hands joyfully.

“What will she do?” cried he.  “Will she move heaven and earth—­bring Spain on Navarre—­Artois and Flanders on Spain?  Will she call in her little brother Henriquet against her husband Henri?”

“It is possible.”

“You saw her?”

“Yes.”

“Then they execrate each other?”

“I believe that in their hearts they do not adore each other.”

“But in appearance?”

“They are the best friends in the world.”

“Yes, but some fine morning some new love will embroil them completely.”

“Well! this new love has come.”

“Bah!”

“Yes, on my honor; but shall I tell you what I fear?”

“Yes.”

“That this new love, instead of embroiling, will reconcile them.”

“Then there is a new love, really?”

“Oh! mon Dieu! yes.”

“Of Henri’s?”

“Of Henri’s.”

“For whom?”

“You wish to know all, do you not?”

“Yes, Chicot; tell me all about it.”

“Well, my son, then I must go back to the beginning.”

“Go back, but be quick.”

“You wrote a letter to the Bearnais?”

“Well?”

“And I read it.”

“What do you think of it?”

“That if it was not delicate, at least it was cunning.”

“It ought to have embroiled them?”

“Yes, if Henri and Margot had been an ordinary, commonplace couple.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Henri is no fool.”

“Oh!”

“And that he guessed.”

“Guessed what?”

“That you wished to make him quarrel with his wife.”

“That was clear.”

“Yes; but what was less clear was your object in doing so.”

“Ah! diable! the object—­”

“Yes, this Bearnais thought your aim was to make him quarrel with his wife, that you might not have to pay her dowry.”