“Sire,” cried three of the gentlemen.
“Patience, gentlemen,” said Quelus, “his majesty has slept badly, and had unpleasant dreams. A few words will set all right.”
“Speak then, but be brief.”
“It is possible, sire, but difficult.”
“Yes; one turns long round certain accusations.”
“No, sire, we go straight to it,” replied Quelus, looking again at Chicot and the usher, as though to reiterate his request that they might be left alone. The king signed to the usher to leave the room, but Chicot said, “Never mind me, I sleep like a top,” and closing his eyes again, he began to snore with all his strength.
CHAPTER LXXXIV.
WHERE CHICOT WAKES.
“Your majesty,” said Quelus, “knows only half the business, and that the least interesting half. Assuredly, we have all dined with M. de Bussy, and to the honor of his cook, be it said, dined well. There was, above all, a certain wine from Austria or Hungary, which really appeared to me marvelous. But during the repast, or rather after it, we had the most serious and interesting conversation concerning your majesty’s affairs.”