"Chicot does not mind little things."
"But I expect some one."
"For supper; yes, let us sup—" And Chicot made a fruitless effort to rise.
"Ventre St. Gris! how quickly you get drunk. But go along, mordieu! she is getting impatient."
"She, who?"
"The lady I expect."
"A lady; why did you not say, Henriquet? Ah! pardon, I thought I was speaking—to the king of France. He has spoiled me, that good Henriquet. Ah! I will go."
"You are a gentleman, Chicot. Now go quickly."
"Adieu, sire; a good night to you."
"Adieu! and sleep well. You will find the page in the gallery, who will show you your room."