“Yes; your accomplices.”
“Sire, your majesty is making some mistake.”
“Oh! this time you shall not escape me; your measure of crime is full.”
“Sire, be moderate; there is certainly some one who slanders me to you.”
“Wretch! you shall die of hunger in a cell of the Bastile!”
“I bow to your orders, whatever they may be.”
“Hypocrite! But where were you?”
“Sire, I was serving your majesty, and working for the glory and tranquillity of your reign.”
“Really! your audacity is great.”
“Bah!” said Chicot, “tell us about it, my prince; it must be curious.”