"Oh, no, sire; they behave like lambs or angels, but that is only in Navarre; out of it one meets wolves and vultures around every prey. I was a prey, sire; so I had both."
"At all events, I am glad to see they did not eat you."
"Ventre de biche! sire, it was not their faults; they did their best, but they found me too tough, and could not get through my skin. But to return to my letter."
"Since you have none, dear M. Chicot, it seems to me useless to return to it."
"But I had one, sire, but I was forced to destroy it, for M. de Mayenne ran after me to steal it from me."
"Mayenne?"
"In person."
"Luckily he does not run fast. Is he still getting fatter?"
"Ventre de biche! not just now, I should think."
"Why not?"