Then St. Luc kissed his wife’s hand, and went to the king, who was already growing impatient. Jeanne, alone and trembling, hid behind the curtains of the bed. When St. Luc entered he found the king amidst a perfect carpet of flowers, of which the stalks had been cut off-roses, jasmine, violets, and wall-flowers, in spite of the severe weather, formed an odorous carpet for Henry III. The chamber, of which the roof was painted, had in it two beds, one of which was so large as to occupy a third of the room. It was hung with gold and silk tapestry, representing mythological figures and the windows had curtains to match. From the center of the ceiling hung, suspended by a golden chain, a silver gilt lamp, in which burned a perfumed oil. At the side of the bed was a golden satyr, holding in his hand a candelabrum, containing four rose-color wax candles, also perfumed. The king, with his naked feet resting on the flowers, was seated on a chair of ebony inlaid with gold; he had on his knees seven or eight young spaniels, who were licking his bands. Two servants were curling his hair, his mustachios, and beard, a third was covering his face with a kind of cream, which had a most delightful scent. “Here,” cried Chicot, “the grease and the combs, I will try them too.” “Chicot,” said Henri, “your skin is too dry, and will use too much cream, and your beard is so hard, it will break my combs. Well, my son,” said he, turning to St. Luc, “how is your head?” St. Luc put his hand to his head and groaned. “Imagine!” continued Henri, “I have seen Bussy d’Amboise.” “Bussy!” cried St. Luc, trembling. “Yes, those fools! five of them attacked him, and let him escape. If you had been there, St. Luc----” “I should probably have been like the others.” “Oh! no, I wager you are as good as Bussy. We will try to-morrow.” “Sire, I am too ill for anything.” Henri, hearing a singular noise, turned round, and saw Chicot eating up all the supper that had been brought for two. “What the devil are you doing, M. Chicot?” cried Henri. “Taking my cream internally, since you will not allow me to do it outwardly.” “Go and fetch my captain of the guards,” said Henri. “What for?” asked Chicot, emptying a porcelain cup of chocolate. “To pass his sword through your body.” “Ah! let him come, we shall see!” cried Chicot, putting himself in such a comical attitude of defense that every one laughed. “But I am hungry,” cried the king; “and the wretch has eaten up all the supper.” “You are capricious, Henri; I offered you supper and you refused. However, your bouillon is left; I am no longer hungry, and I am going to bed.” “And I also,” said St. Luc, “for I can stand no longer.” “Stay, St. Luc,” said the king, “take these,” and he offered him a handful of little dogs. “What for?” “To sleep with you; they will take your illness from you.” “Thanks, sire,” said St. Luc, putting them back in their basket, “but I have no confidence in your receipt.”