"All the more reason, then: if he knows you are going out, I shall have to give up your pass to-morrow morning to the governor."—"And who is he?"
"M. de Mornay, who does not jest with disobedience, M. Chicot."
Chicot put his hand to his sword, but another look showed him that the outside of the gate was defended by a guard who would have prevented his passing if he had killed the officer and sentinel.
"Well!" said Chicot to himself, with a sigh; "I have lost my game," and he turned back.
"Shall I give you an escort, M. Chicot?" said the officer.
"No, thank you."
Chicot retraced his steps, but he was not at the end of his griefs. He met the chief of the watch, who said, "What! have you finished your commission already, M. Chicot? Peste! how quick you are!"
A little further on the cornet cried to him, "Well, M. Chicot, what of the lady; are you content with Nerac?"
Finally, the soldier in the courtyard said, "Cordieu! M. Chicot, the tailor has not done his work well; you seem more torn than when you went out."
Chicot did not feel inclined to climb back through the window: but by chance, or rather by charity, the door was opened, and he returned into the palace. Here he saw the page, who said, "Dear M. Chicot, shall I give you the key to all this?"