“You do not reply,” said the voice; “you are hardened in sin.”
“Oh! pardon! pardon!” cried Chicot, imitating the king’s voice. Then he whispered to Henri, “It is droll that the angel does not know me.”
“What can it mean?”
“Wait.”
“Wretch!” said the voice.
“Yes, I confess,” said Chicot; “I am a hardened sinner, a dreadful sinner.”
“Then acknowledge your crimes, and repent.”
“I acknowledge to have been a great traitor to my cousin Condé, whose wife I seduced.”
“Oh! hush,” said the king, “that is so long ago.”
“I acknowledge,” continued Chicot, “to have been a great rogue to the Poles, who chose me for king, and whom I abandoned one night, carrying away the crown jewels. I repent of this.”