"Alas! he has now neither mind nor body."—"What became of him?"
"He died, like all who loved me."
"Well, sire, I think he did well to die; he was growing old, and I have heard that sobriety was not one of his virtues. Of what did he die—indigestion?"
"Of grief."
"Oh! he told you so, to make you laugh once more."
"You are wrong; he would not sadden me with the news of his illness. He knew how I regretted my friends—he, who had so often seen me weep for them."
"Then it was his shade that came to tell you?"
"No; I did not even see his shade. It was his friend, the worthy prior Gorenflot, who wrote me this sad news."
"I see that if he lived your majesty would make him chancellor."
"I beg, duke, that you will not laugh at those who loved me, and whom I loved."