“You make the exordium very long.”
“How talkative you are, Valois!” cried Chicot.
“Oh! oh! M. Gascon,” said Henri, “if you do not sleep, you must leave the room.”
“Pardieu, it is you who keep me from sleeping, your tongue clacks so fast.”
Quelus, seeing it was impossible to speak seriously, shrugged his shoulders, and rose in anger.
“We were speaking of grave matters,” said he.
“Grave matters?”
“Yes,” said D’Epernon, “if the lives of eight brave gentlemen are worth the trouble of your majesty’s attention.”
“What does it mean, my son?” said Henri, placing his hand on Quelus’s shoulder.
“Well, sire, the result of our conversation was, that royalty is menaced—weakened, that is to say, that all the world is conspiring against you. Sire, you are a great king, but you have no horizon before you; the nobility have raised so many barriers before your eyes, that you can see nothing, if it be not the still higher barriers that the people have raised. When, sire, in battle one battalion places itself like a menacing wall before another, what happens? Cowards look behind them, and seeing an open space, they fly; the brave lower their heads and rush on.”