“Yes; one turns long round certain accusations.” “No, sire, we go straight to it,” replied Quelus, looking again at Chicot and the usher, as though to reiterate his request that they might be left alone. The king signed to the usher to leave the room, but Chicot said, “Never mind me, I sleep like a top,” and closing his eyes again, he began to snore with all his strength. CHAPTER LXXXIV. WHERE CHICOT WAKES. “Your majesty,” said Quelus, “knows only half the business, and that the least interesting half. Assuredly, we have all dined with M. de Bussy, and to the honor of his cook, be it said, dined well. There was, above all, a certain wine from Austria or Hungary, which really appeared to me marvelous. But during the repast, or rather after it, we had the most serious and interesting conversation concerning your majesty’s affairs.” “You make the exordium very long.” “How talkative you are, Valois!” cried Chicot. “Oh! oh! M. Gascon,” said Henri, “if you do not sleep, you must leave the room.” “Pardieu, it is you who keep me from sleeping, your tongue clacks so fast.” Quelus, seeing it was impossible to speak seriously, shrugged his shoulders, and rose in anger. “We were speaking of grave matters,” said he. “Grave matters?” “Yes,” said D’Epernon, “if the lives of eight brave gentlemen are worth the trouble of your majesty’s attention.” “What does it mean, my son?” said Henri, placing his hand on Quelus’s shoulder. “Well, sire, the result of our conversation was, that royalty is menaced--weakened, that is to say, that all the world is conspiring against you. Sire, you are a great king, but you have no horizon before you; the nobility have raised so many barriers before your eyes, that you can see nothing, if it be not the still higher barriers that the people have raised. When, sire, in battle one battalion places itself like a menacing wall before another, what happens? Cowards look behind them, and seeing an open space, they fly; the brave lower their heads and rush on.” “Well, then forward!” cried the king, “mordieu! am I not the first gentleman in my kingdom? Were they not great battles that I fought in my youth? Forward, then, gentlemen, and I will take the lead; it is my custom in the mêlée.” “Oh! yes, sire,” cried the young men, with one voice. “And,” said Quelus, “against these ramparts which are closing round your majesty, four men will march, sure to be applauded by you, and glorified by posterity.” “What do you mean, Quelus?” cried the king, with eyes in which joy was tempered by solicitude; “who are these four men?” “I, and these other gentlemen,” replied Quelus, with pride; “we devote ourselves, sire.” “To what?” “To your safety.” “Against whom?” “Against your enemies.” “Private enmities of young men?”