“Then,” said Henri, in a softer tone, “you return without any other motive than that which you state; without any mission, or safe-conduct?”
“Sire, I return simply and purely for that reason. Now, your majesty may throw me into the Bastile, or have me shot, but I shall have done my duty. Sire, Anjou is on fire; Touraine is about to revolt; Guienne is rising. M. le Duc d’Anjou is hard at work.”
“He is well supported, is he not?”
“Sire, M. de Bussy, firm as he is, cannot make your brother brave.”
“Ah! he trembles, then, the rebel.”
“Let me go and shake St. Luc’s hand,” said Chicot, advancing.
The king followed him, and going up to his old favorite, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said,—
“You are welcome, St. Luc!”
“Ah! sire,” cried St. Luc, kissing the king’s hand, “I find again my beloved master.”
“Yes, but you, my poor St. Luc, you have grown thin.”