“That reminds me of the old song,” said the Justice, “which they sang in France when I made my first essay in arms there, the King was young then.
“‘Apotre de Luthere,
Si l’on brule ta chair,
C’est seulement que tu saches d’avance
Les tourments d’enfer.’”[33]
“Well, for the witch and for the heretic a faggot is the best cure. What else is going on?”
“They say that an ingenious mechanist has invented a machine to move the King upstairs and down in his chair without difficulty; he is so corpulent that little trace is left of the princely gallant of the Cloth of Gold.”
“Queen Catharine has a hard time of it?”
“She is a good nurse, but she is careful not to cross the royal temper.”