"Sire, there are below a dozen of poorly-clothed people."
"Ah! they are my poor," said the king, rising.
"Your majesty has poor?"
"Doubtless; does not God recommend charity? If I am not a Catholic, Chicot, I am a Christian."
"Bravo, sire!"
"Come, Chicot, we will give alms together, and then go to supper."
"Sire, I follow you."
"Take that purse lying on the table, near my sword—do you see?"
They went down, but Henri seemed thoughtful and preoccupied. Chicot looked at him, and thought, "What the devil made me talk politics to this brave prince, and make him sad? Fool that I was!"
Once in the court, Henri approached the group of mendicants. There were a dozen men in different costumes. Henri took the purse from the hands of Chicot and made a sign, and then each man came forward and saluted Henri with an air of humility, which did not preclude a glance full of intelligence at the king. Henri replied by a motion of the head; then, putting his fingers into the purse, which Chicot held open, he took out a piece.