As he spoke, one of the wax candles in the hand of the golden satyr went out; then a second, then a third. After a moment, the fourth went out also.
"Oh, oh!" cried Chicot, "that is more than a sighing sound." But he had hardly uttered the last word when in its turn the lamp was extinguished, and the room was in darkness, save for the flickering glow of the dying embers.
"Look out!" exclaimed Chicot, jumping up.
"He is going to speak," said the King, shrinking back into his bed.
"Then listen and let us hear what he says," replied Chicot, and at the same instant a voice which sounded at once both piercing and hollow, proceeded from the space between the bed and the wall.
"Hardened sinner, are you there?"
"Yes, yes, Lord." gasped Henri with chattering teeth.
"Dear me!" remarked Chicot, "that is a very hoarse voice to have come from heaven! I feel dreadfully frightened; but never mind!"
"Do you hear me?" asked the voice.
"Yes, Lord," stammered Henri; "and I bow before your anger."