“What about the King?” inquired the mistress.
Pitou shook his head and clacked his tongue in a way humiliating to the head of the monarchy.
“And the Queen?”
Pitou said never a word.
“Oh,” groaned the crowd.
Pitou was aching for Catherine’s coming.
“Why are you wearing a helmet?”
“It is a trophy of war,” rejoined the young peasant. “A trophy is a tangible testimonial that you have vanquished an enemy.”
“Have you vanquished an enemy, Pitou?”
“An enemy—pooh!” said the valiant one, disdainfully. “Ah, good Mother Billet, you do not know that Farmer Billet and yours truly took the Bastile between us.”