"Ah!" said he, "if this little fellow were in the Louvre instead of here in this little house in the Rue des Barres, many things would be changed for the present as well as for the future perhaps."[13]
"Sire," said Marie, "if your Majesty is willing, I prefer him to stay here; he sleeps better."
"Let us not disturb his slumber, then," said the King; "it is so sweet to sleep when one does not dream!"
"Well, sire," said Marie, pointing to a door opening out of the room.
"Yes, you are right, Marie," said Charles IX., "let us have supper."
"My well-beloved Charles," said Marie, "you will ask the king your brother to excuse me, will you not?"
"Why?"
"For having dismissed our servants, sire," continued Marie, turning to the King of Navarre; "you must know that Charles wants to be served by me alone."
"Ventre saint gris!" said Henry, "I should think so!"
Both men entered the dining-room. The mother, anxious and careful, laid a warm blanket over the little Charles, who, thanks to the sound sleep of childhood, so envied by his father, had not wakened.