"At what time does he usually go to your wife's room?"
"About nine o'clock."
"And he leaves?"
"Before I reach there, for I never see him."
"About"—
"About eleven."
"Very well. Come this evening at midnight. The deed will be done."
Charles pressed Henry's hand cordially, and renewing his vows of friendship, left the apartment, whistling his favorite hunting-song.
"Ventre saint gris!" said the Béarnais, watching Charles, "either I am greatly mistaken, or the queen mother is responsible for all this deviltry. Truly, she does nothing but invent plots to make trouble between my wife and myself. Such a pleasant household!"
And Henry began to laugh as he was in the habit of laughing when no one could see or hear him.