“Sign, my cousin; there, below me, now pass it to M. le Cardinal and M. de Mayenne.” But these two had already disappeared. The king remarked their absence, and added, “Then pass the pen to M. de Monsoreau.” The duke did so, and was about to retire, but the king said, “Wait.” And while the others signed, he added, “My cousin, it was your advice, I believe, to guard Paris with a good army, composed of all the forces of the League. The army is made, and the natural general of the Parisians is the king.” “Assuredly, sire.” “But I do not forget that there is another army to command, and that this belongs of right to the bravest soldier in my kingdom; therefore go and command the army.” “And when am I to set out, sire?” “Immediately.” “Henri, Henri!” whispered Chicot; but, in spite of his signs and grimaces, the king gave the duke his brevet ready signed. He took it and retired, and was soon out of Paris. The rest of the assembly dispersed gradually, crying, “Vive le Roi! and Vive la Ligue!” “Oh, sire!” cried the favorites, approaching the king, “what a sublime idea you have had!” “They think that gold is going to rain on them like manna,” said Chicot, who followed his master about everywhere with lamentations. As soon as they were left alone, “Ah! M. Chicot!” said Henri, “you are never content. Diable! I do not ask even for complaisance, but for good sense.” “You are right, Henri; it is what you want most.” “Confess I have done well.” “That is just what I do not think.” “Ah! you are jealous, M. Roi de France.” “I! Heaven forbid. I shall choose better subjects for jealousy.” “Corbleu.” “Oh! what self-love.” “Am I or not king of the League?” “Certainly you are; but----” “But what?” “You are no longer King of France.” “And who is king then?” “Everybody, except you; firstly, your brother----” “My brother!” “Yes, M. d’Anjou.” “Whom I hold prisoner.” “Yes, but prisoner as he is, he was consecrated.” “By whom was he consecrated?” “By the Cardinal de Guise. Really, Henri, you have a fine police. They consecrate a king at Paris before thirty-three people, in the church of St. Genevieve, and you do not know of it!” “Oh! and you do?” “Certainly I do.” “How can you know what I do not?” “Ah! because M. de Morvilliers manages your police, and I am my own.” The king frowned. “Well, then, without counting Henri de Valois, we have François d’Anjou for king,” continued Chicot; “and then there is the Duc de Guise.” “The Duc de Guise!” “Yes, Henri de Guise, Henri le Balfré.” “A fine king! whom I exile, whom I send to the army.”