"Harnibleu! sire, since your majesty is so hungry, you ought to invite me to breakfast with you."
"Why so, Crillon?"
"Because they say your majesty lives on air, and the air of the times is very bad. Now I should have been happy to be able to say, 'These are all pure calumnies; the king eats like every one else.'"
"No, Crillon, no; let me believe as they do. I do not wish to eat like a simple mortal. Remember this, Crillon—a king ought always to remain poetical, and only show himself in a noble position. Thus, for example, do you remember Alexander?"
"What Alexander?"
"Alexander Magnus. Ah! you do not know Latin, I remember. Well, King Alexander loved to bathe before his soldiers, because he was so well made, handsome and plump that they compared him to Apollo and even to Antinous."
"Oh! oh! sire, you would be devilishly in the wrong to bathe before yours, for you are very thin, my poor king."
"Brave Crillon, go," said Henry, striking him on the shoulder; "you are an excellent fellow, and do not flatter me; you are no courtier, my old friend."
"That is why you do not invite me to breakfast," replied Crillon, laughing good-humoredly, and taking his leave quite contentedly, for the tap on the shoulder consoled him for not getting the breakfast.
When he was gone, the breakfast was laid at once. The maitre d'hotel had surpassed himself.