"But, sire, respect—"
"Respect! here in Navarre! You are mad, my poor Chicot."
"No, sire, I am not mad, but I am an ambassador."
A slight frown contracted Henri's brow, but disappeared at once.
"Ambassador, from whom?"
"From Henri III. I come from Paris and the Louvre, sire."
"Oh! that is different. Come with me," said the king, rising, with a sigh.
"Page, take wine up to my room. Come, Chicot, I will conduct you."
Chicot followed the king, thinking, "How disagreeable! to come and trouble this honest man in his peace and his ignorance. Bah! he will be philosophical."