“It was not to resemble Chicot, I suppose, that your majesty made me a duke?”

“Chicot loved me, and I miss him; that is all I can say.  Oh! when I think that in the same place where you now are have been all those young men, handsome, brave, and faithful—­that there, on that very chair on which you have placed your hat, Chicot has slept more than a hundred times—­”

“Perhaps that was very amusing,” interrupted the duke, “but certainly not very respectful.”

“Alas! he has now neither mind nor body.”—­“What became of him?”

“He died, like all who loved me.”

“Well, sire, I think he did well to die; he was growing old, and I have heard that sobriety was not one of his virtues.  Of what did he die—­indigestion?”

“Of grief.”

“Oh! he told you so, to make you laugh once more.”

“You are wrong; he would not sadden me with the news of his illness.  He knew how I regretted my friends—­he, who had so often seen me weep for them.”

“Then it was his shade that came to tell you?”

“No; I did not even see his shade.  It was his friend, the worthy prior Gorenflot, who wrote me this sad news.”

“I see that if he lived your majesty would make him chancellor.”

“I beg, duke, that you will not laugh at those who loved me, and whom I loved.”

“Oh! sire, I do not desire to laugh, but just now you reproached me with want of gayety, parfandious!”

“Well, now I am in the mood to hear bad news, if you have any to tell.  Luckily I have strength to bear it, or I should be dead ten times a day.”

“Which would not displease certain people of our acquaintance.”

“Oh! against them I have the arms of my Swiss.”

“I could find you a better guard than that.”

“You?”—­“Yes, sire.”

“What is it?”

“Will your majesty be so good as to accompany me to the old buildings of the Louvre?”

“On the site of the Rue de l’Astruce?”

“Precisely.”

“What shall I see there?”

“Oh! come first.”

“It is a long way, duke.”

“We can go in five minutes through the galleries.”

“D’Epernon—­”

“Well, sire?”

“If what you are about to show me be not worth seeing, take care.”

“I answer for it, sire.”

“Come, then,” said the king, rising.

The duke took his cloak, presented the king’s sword to him, then, taking a light, preceded his majesty.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Dormitory.

In less than five minutes they arrived at their destination.  The duke took out a key, and, after crossing a court, opened an arched door, the bottom of which was overgrown with long grass.  They went along a dark corridor, and then up a staircase to a room, of which D’Epernon had also the key.  He opened the door, and showed the king forty-five beds, and in each of them a sleeper.