"Am I then a prisoner?"
"If that were the King's purpose, you would not be attended by a Prince of the Church and by me," replied the Chancellor.
The two functionaries led the Prince to an apartment where a guard—of honor so called—was allotted to him, and where he remained for several hours without seeing any one. From his window he looked out on the Loire, the rich country which makes such a beautiful valley between Amboise and Tours, and he was meditating on his situation, wondering what the Guises might dare to do to his person, when he heard the door of his room open, and saw the King's fool come in, Chicot, who had once been in his service.
"I heard you were in disgrace," said the Prince.
"You cannot think how sober the Court has become since the death of Henri II."
"And yet the King loves to laugh, surely."
"Which King? Francis II. or Francis of Lorraine?"
"Are you so fearless of the Duke that you speak so?"
"He will not punish me for that, sir," replied Chicot, smiling.
"And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"