St. Luc, St. Luc!”
“I am wild to-night, sire, I want to dance and drink.”
“St. Luc,” said the king, solemnly, “do you ever dream?”
“Often, sire.”
“You believe in dreams?”
“With reason.”
“How so?”
“Dreams console for the reality. Last night I had a charming dream.”
“What was it?”
“I dreamed that my wife – ”
“You still think of your wife?”
“More than ever, sire; well, I dreamed that she, with her charming face – for she is pretty, sire – ”
“So was Eve, who ruined us all.”
“Well, my wife had procured wings and the form of a bird, and so, braving locks and bolts, she passed over the walls of the Louvre, and came to my window, crying, ‘Open, St. Luc, open, my husband.’”
“And you opened?”
“I should think so.”
“Worldly.”
“As you please, sire.”
“Then you woke?”
“No, indeed, the dream was too charming; and I hope to-night to dream again; therefore I refuse your majesty’s obliging offer. If I sit up, let me at least have something to pay me for losing my dream. If your majesty will do as I said – ”
“Enough, St. Luc. I trust Heaven will send you a dream to-night which will lead you to repentance.”
“I doubt it, sire, and I advise you to send away this libertine St. Luc, who is resolved not to amend.”
“No, no, I hope, before to-morrow, grace will have touched you as it has me. Good night, I will pray for you.”
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THE KING WAS AFRAID OF BEING AFRAID
When the king left St. Luc, he found the court, according to his orders, in the great gallery. Then he gave D’O, D’Epernon and Schomberg an order to retire into the provinces, threatened Quelus and Maugiron to punish them if they quarreled anymore with Bussy, to whom he gave his hand to kiss, and then embraced his brother François.
As for the queen, he was prodigal in politeness to her.
When the usual time for retiring approached, the king seemed trying to retard it. At last ten o’clock struck.
“Come with me, Chicot,” then said he, “good night, gentlemen.”
“Good night, gentlemen,” said Chicot, “we are going to bed. I want my barber, my hairdresser, my valet de chambre, and, above all, my cream.”
“No,” said the king, “I want none of them to-night; Lent is going to begin.”
“I regret the cream,” said Chicot.
The king and Chicot entered the room, which we already know.
“Ah ça! Henri,” said Chicot, “I am the favorite to-night. Am I handsomer than that Cupid, Quelus?”
“Silence, Chicot, and you, gentlemen of the toilette, go out.”
They obeyed, and the king and Chicot were left alone.
“Why do you send them away?” asked Chicot, “they have not greased us yet. Are you going to grease me with your own royal hand? It would be an act of humility.”
“Let us pray,” said Henri.
“Thank you, that is not amusing. If that be what you called me here for, I prefer to return to the bad company I have left. Adieu, my son. Good night.”
“Stay,” said the king.
“Oh! this is tyranny. You are a despot, a Phalaris, a Dionysius. All day you have made me tear the shoulders of my friends with cow-hide, and now we are to begin again. Do not let us do it, Henri, when there’s but two, every blow tells.”
“Hold your tongue, miserable chatterer, and think of repentance.”
“I repent! And of what? Of being jester to a monk. Confiteor – I repent, mea culpa, it is a great sin.”
“No sacrilege, wretch.”
“Ah! I would rather he shut up in a cage with lions and apes, than with a mad king. Adieu, I am going.”
The king locked the door.
“Henri, you look sinister; if you do not let me go, I will cry, I will call, I will break the window, I will kick down the door.”
“Chicot,” said the king, in a melancholy tone, “you abuse my sadness.”
“Ah! I understand, you are afraid to be alone. Tyrants always are so. Take my long sword, and let me take the scabbard to my room.”
At the word “afraid,” Henri shuddered, and he looked nervously around, and seemed so agitated and grew so pale, that Chicot began to think him really ill, and said, —
“Come, my son, what is the matter, tell your troubles to your friend Chicot.”
The king looked at him and said, “Yes, you are my friend, my only friend.”
“There is,” said Chicot, “the abbey of Valency vacant.”
“Listen, Chicot, you are discreet.”
“There is also that of Pithiviers, where they make such good pies.”
“In spite of your buffooneries, you are a brave man.”
“Then do not give me an abbey, give me a regiment.”
“And even a wise one.”
“Then do not give me a regiment, make me a counselor; but no, when I think of it, I should prefer a regiment, for I should be always forced to be of the king’s opinion.”
“Hold your tongue, Chicot, the terrible hour approaches.”
“Ah! you are beginning again.”
“You will hear.”
“Hear what?”
“Wait, and the event will show you. Chicot, you are brave!”
“I boast of it, but I do not wish to try. Call your captain of the guard, your Swiss, and let me go away from this invisible danger.”
“Chicot, I command you to stay.”
“On my word, a nice master. I am afraid, I tell you. Help!”
“Well,
