“Very little.”
“Yes, I know you are a musician, and music is so difficult an art, that those who give themselves to it must sacrifice all their time.”
“You seem very serious over your game.”
“Yes, it is my king who disquiets me; you must know, M. Aurilly, that at chess the king is a very insignificant person, who has no will, who can only go one step forward or back, or one to the right or left, while he is surrounded by active enemies, by knights who jump three squares at a time, by a crowd of pawns who surround him, so that if he be badly counseled he is a ruined king in no time, ma foi.”
“But, M. Chicot, how does it happen that you are studying this at the door of his royal highness’ room?”
“Because I am waiting for M. Quelus, who is in there.”
“Where?”
“With his highness.”
“With his highness! What is he doing there? I did not think they were such friends.”
“Hush!” then he whispered in Aurilly’s ear “he is come to ask pardon of the duke for a little quarrel they had yesterday.”