“Yes, yes,” said St. Luc, “but some day he will find his master.” “Oh!” said the king, “he manages the sword well. Why does he not get bit by some dog?” And he threw a spiteful glance on Bussy, who was walking about, laughing at all the king’s friends. “Corbleu!” cried Chicot, “do not be so rude to my friends, M. Bussy, for I draw the sword, though I am a king, as well as if I was a common man.” “If he continue such pleasantries, I will chastise Chicot, sire,” said Maugiron. “No, no, Maugiron, Chicot is a gentleman. Besides, it is not he who most deserves punishment, for it is not he who is most insolent.” This time there was no mistaking, and Quelus made signs to D’O and D’Epernon, who had been in a different part of the room, and had not heard what was going on. “Gentlemen,” said Quelus, “come to the council; you, St. Luc, go and finish making your peace with the king.” St. Luc approached the king, while the others drew back into a window. “Well,” said D’Epernon, “what do you want? I was making love, and I warn you, if your recital be not interesting I shall be very angry.” “I wish to tell you that after the ball I set off for the chase.” “For what chase?” “That of the wild boar.” “What possesses you to go, in this cold, to be killed in some thicket?” “Never mind, I am going.” “Alone?” “No, with Maugiron and Schomberg. We hunt for the king.” “Ah! yes, I understand,” said Maugiron and Schomberg. “The king wishes a boar’s head for breakfast to-morrow.” “With the neck dressed à l’Italienne,” said Maugiron, alluding to the turn-down collar which Bussy wore in opposition to their ruffs. “Ah, ah,” said D’Epernon, “I understand.” “What is it?” asked D’O, “for I do not.” “Ah! look round you.” “Well!” “Did any one laugh at us here?” “Yes, Bussy.” “Well, that is the wild boar the king wants.” “You think the king----” “He asks for it.” “Well, then, so be it. But how do we hunt?” “In ambush; it is the surest.” Bussy remarked the conference, and, not doubting that they were talking of him, approached, with his friends. “Look, Antragues, look, Ribeirac,” said he, “how they are grouped; it is quite touching; it might be Euryale and Nisus, Damon and Pythias, Castor and----. But where is Pollux?” “Pollux is married, so that Castor is left alone.” “What can they be doing?” “I bet they are inventing some new starch.” “No, gentlemen,” said Quelus, “we are talking of the chase.” “Really, Signor Cupid,” said Bussy; “it is very cold for that. It will chap your skin.” “Monsieur,” replied Maugiron, politely, “we have warm gloves, and doublets lined with fur.” “Ah! that reassures me,” said Bussy; “do you go soon?” “To-night, perhaps.” “In that case I must warn the king; what will he say to-morrow, if he finds his friends have caught cold?” “Do not give yourself that trouble, monsieur,” said Quelus, “his majesty knows it.” “Do you hunt larks?” asked Bussy, with an impertinent air.