“Then do what I tell you.”
Henri gave the order to Crillon, who set off at once.
“And you?” said Henri.
“Oh! I am waiting for my saint.”
“And you will rejoin me at the Louvre?”
“In an hour; go, my son.”
Henri went; and Chicot, proceeding to the stables, met Gorenflot coming out on his ass. The poor devil had not an idea of endeavoring to escape from the fate that he thought awaited him.
“Come, come,” said Chicot, “we are waited for.” Gorenflot made no resistance, but he shed many tears.