The young men looked at each other in wonder.
“But, sire, we wished to say to your majesty——”
“That you are no longer drunk, I suppose.”
Chicot opened his eyes.
“Your majesty is in error,” said Quelus, gravely.
“And yet I have not drunk the wine of Anjou.”
“Oh! I understand,” said Quelus, smiling.
“What?”
“If your majesty will remain alone with us, we will tell you.”
“I hate drunkards and traitors.”