Chicot, looking out of the litter, saw at the door of the hotel several men wrapped in cloaks. In the midst of them was a short, stout person, whose large hat almost covered his face. They went in quickly on seeing the litter, but not before the look of this person had had time to excite Chicot’s attention. Therefore he jumped out, and asking a page for his horse, which was being led, let the royal litter go on to Essones, where the king was to sleep, while he remained behind, and, cautiously peeping in through a window, saw the men whom he had noticed sitting inside. He then entered the hotel, went into the opposite room, asked for a bottle of wine, and placed himself so that, although he could not be seen, no one could pass by without his seeing them. “Ah!” said he to himself, “shall I be forced to make my payment sooner than I expected?” Soon Chicot found that by keeping the door open he could both see into the room and hear what was said. “Gentlemen,” said the short fat man to his companions, “I think it is time to set out; the last lackey of the cortege is out of sight, and I believe now that the road is safe.” “Perfectly so, monseigneur,” replied a voice which made Chicot tremble, and which came from the mouth of a person as tall as the other was short, as pale as he was red, and as obsequious as he was arrogant. “Ah! M. Nicolas,” said Chicot, “tu quoque, that is good. It will be odd if I let you slip this time!” Then the short man came out, paid the bill, and, followed by the others, took the road to Paris. Chicot followed them at a distance. They entered by the Porte St. Antoine, and entered the Hôtel Guise. Chicot waited outside a full hour, in spite of cold and hunger. At last the door reopened, but, instead of seven cavaliers wrapped in their cloaks, seven monks came out, with their hoods over their faces, and carrying immense rosaries. “Oh!” said Chicot, “is, then, the Hôtel Guise so embalmed in sanctity that wolves change into lambs only by entering it? This becomes more and more interesting.” And he followed the monks as he had followed the cavaliers, for he believed them to be the same. The monks passed over the bridge of Notre Dame, crossed the city and the petit pont, and went up the Rue St. Geneviève. “Oh!” said Chicot, as he passed the house where he had kneeled in the morning, “are we returning to Fontainebleau? In that case I have made a round.” However, the monks stopped at the door of the Abbey of St. Geneviève, in the porch of which stood another monk, who examined everyone’s hand. “Why,” said Chicot, “it seems that to be admitted to night into the abbey one must have clean hands!” Then he saw, with astonishment, monks appear from every street leading to the abbey, some alone, some walking in pairs, but all coming to the abbey. “Ah!” said Chicot, “is there a general chapter at the abbey to-night? I have never seen one, and I should like it much.”