"I saw you at the palace with the king. Apropos, which way are you going?"
"Toward the Porte of Agen. Am I not in the right road?"
"Yes, go straight on; I wish you success."
"Thank you;" and Chicot went on. But before he had taken a hundred steps he met the watch.
"Peste! this town is well guarded," thought Chicot.
"You cannot pass!" cried the provost, in a voice of thunder.
"But, monsieur, I want—"
"Ah, M. Chicot, is it you? In the streets in this cold?" asked the officer.
"Ah, decidedly! It must be a bet," thought Chicot; and, bowing, he tried to pass on.
"M. Chicot, take care!" said the provost.