"Twice Providence has saved my life. It is true that the second time Providence assumed the features of your Majesty?"
"What form did it assume the first time?"
"That of a man who would be greatly surprised to see himself mistaken for Providence; I mean Réné. You, sire, saved me from steel."
Charles frowned, for he remembered the night when he had taken Henry to the Rue des Barres.
"And Réné?" said he.
"Réné saved me from poison."
"The deuce, Henriot, you have luck," said the King, trying to smile. But a quick spasm of pain changed the effort into a nervous contraction of the lips. "That is not his profession."
"Two miracles saved me, sire. A miracle of repentance on the part of the Florentine, and a miracle of goodness on your part. Well! I will confess to your Majesty that I am afraid Heaven will grow weary of working miracles, and I tried to run away, because of the proverb: 'Heaven helps those who help themselves.'"
"Why did you not tell me this sooner, Henriot?"
"Had I uttered these words yesterday I should have been a denunciator."