"Give it me, then."
"What! you do not think such a letter can be written at once. It must be well weighed and considered."
"Well, then, think over it. I will come or send for it early to-morrow."
"Why not sleep here?"
"Here?"
"Yes, in your chair."
"I sleep no more at the Louvre."
"But you must know my intentions concerning Margot and her husband. My letter will make a noise, and they will question you; you must be able to reply."
"Mon Dieu!" said Chicot, shrugging his shoulders, "how obtuse you are, great king. Do you think I am going to carry a letter a hundred and fifty leagues without knowing what is in it? Be easy, the first halt I make I shall open your letter and read it. What! have you sent ambassadors for ten years to all parts of the world, and know no better than that? Come, rest in peace, and I will return to my solitude."
"Where is it?"