“Have you hung any of your curled gentlemen? Ah! pardon, M. Quelus, I did not see you.”
“Chicot, I shall be angry,” said the king; but he ended by laughing, as he always did; so he went on: “But what has become of you? Do you know that I have had you sought for in all the bad parts of Paris?”
“Did you search the Louvre?”
Just then M. de Monsoreau entered.
“Ah! it is you, monsieur,” said the king; “when shall we hunt again?”
“When it shall please your majesty; I hear there are plenty of wild boars at St. Germain en Laye.”
“The wild boar is dangerous,” said Chicot; “King Charles IX., I remember, was nearly killed by one. And then spears are sharp also; is it not so, Henri? and do you know your chief huntsman must have met a wolf not long ago?”
“Why so?”
“Because he has caught the likeness; it is striking.”
M. de Monsoreau grew pale, and turning to Chicot, said: