“At least you might reply something.”
“And what should I reply? Do you take me for an ancient oracle? It is you who are tiresome with your foolish suppositions.”
“M. Chicot?”
“M. Henri.”
“Chicot, my friend, you see my grief and you laugh at me.”
“Do not have any grief.”
“But everyone betrays me.”
“Who knows? Ventre de biche! who knows?”
Henri went down to his cabinet, where, at the news of his return, a number of gentlemen had assembled, who were looking at St. Luc with evident distrust and animosity. He, however, seemed quite unmoved by this. He had brought his wife with him also, and she was seated, wrapped in her traveling-cloak, when the king entered in an excited state.
“Ah, monsieur, you here!” he cried.