"If your majesty does me the honor to wish for my company, I ask no better than to give you a week."
"So be it; in a week you will know me like a brother. Drink, Chicot."
"Sire, I am no longer thirsty," said Chicot, who had given up all hopes of seeing the king take too much.
"Then, I will leave you; a man should not stay at table when he does nothing. Drink, I tell you."
"Why, sire?"
"To sleep better. Do you like the chase, Chicot?"
"Not much, sire; and you?"
"Passionately; since I lived at the court of Charles IX."
"Why did your majesty do me the honor to ask me?"
"Because I hunt to-morrow, and thought to take you with me."