Katherine. To her majesty, sire, who bade me gather roses.
King. You are a pretty child. You might have had a king’s love. Well, well, you were a fool. Does not Thibaut woo you?
Katherine. He professes to love me, sire, and I profess to hate him.
King. He was sorely wounded last night in a tavern scuffle.
Katherine. Only wounded, sire?
King. Your solicitude is adorable. Be of cheer. He may recover. And we have clapped hands on the assassin. He shall pay the penalty.
Katherine. This man should not die, sire. Thibaut d’Aussigny was a traitor, a villain—
King. If this knave’s life interests you, plead for it to my lord the Grand Constable.
Katherine. Thibaut is pitiless.
King. Thibaut is no longer in office. Try your luck with his successor.