"Very warm and generous blood, I can assure you, my good fool."
"Then the supply must have been running very low when you were created, my little gentleman, and it was necessary to weaken it with a good deal of water."
Philibert, who had risen to a sitting posture, laughed and once more cuddled among his cushions. "Listen," said he. "The great clock in the tower is clanging the hour of twelve. It is the time when witches come forth and play their tricks. Be careful as you pass along the corridor lest one of them should mistake you for her elder brother and snatch at your long horns."
"They will have more business with you than with me, fair youth. Has any one been to tell you what Saint Monica replied? Did you not at least arrange with one of the servants to bring you the news?"
"No."
"And you have not enough interest in the matter even to ask me what was the result!"
"What did the saint do?" asked the boy, clasping his hands under his head and regarding the indignant jester.
"I have as good a mind as I ever had to swallow a bite to eat to let you wait until morning to find out."
"Considering, as you say, that I have no curiosity about the matter, do you think that would greatly disturb me?" asked Philibert. "But come, my good fellow," he added good-naturedly, "do not be angry with me. Perhaps I am overfond of my bed, and this couch is soft with the down of many fowls. Tell me what reply was made by Saint Monica."
"She came to life!" replied Le Glorieux, in a tone of awe, as he recalled the remarkable scene he had witnessed. "It is a great pity that she stood so much in shadow that we could not see her more plainly, but from the moment I beheld her I could see a palpitation as of life beneath her raiment."