"No, nothing is more simple; each of those men came from a different city." "Well, sire?" "Well, that I may not always give to the same, they each tell me the name of their town, so that I can distribute my benefits equally among all the unfortunates in my kingdom." "Yes, sire; but why did you answer 'Cahors'?" "Ah!" cried Henri, with a most natural air of surprise, "did I say 'Cahors'?" "Yes, sire." "You think so?" "I am sure of it." "It must have been because we had been talking so much about it. I wish for it so much that I must have spoken of it without meaning to do so." "Hum!" said Chicot, suspiciously, "and then there was something else." "What! something else?" "A number that each one pronounced, and which, added together, made more than eight thousand." "Ah! as to that, Chicot, I did not understand it myself; unless, as the beggars are divided into corporations, they each named the number of members, which seems to me probable." "Sire, sire!" "Come and sup, my friend, nothing enlightens the mind like eating and drinking. Let us go to table, and you shall see that if my pistoles are cut, my bottles are full." Then, passing his arm familiarly through Chicot's, the king went back to his room, where supper was served. Passing by the queen's room, he glanced at it, and saw no light. "Page," said he, "is not her majesty at home?" "Her majesty is gone to see Mademoiselle de Montmorency, who is ill." "Ah! poor Fosseuse!" said Henri: "it is true, the queen has such a good heart. Come to supper, Chicot." CHAPTER L. THE TRUE MISTRESS OF THE KING OF NAVARRE. The repast was joyous. Henri seemed no longer to have any weight either on his heart or his mind, and he was an excellent companion. As for Chicot, he dissembled the uneasiness he had felt since the coming of the Spanish ambassador and the scene with the mendicants. He endeavored to drink little and keep cool, to observe everything; but this Henri would not allow. However, Chicot had a head of iron, and as for Henri, he said he could drink these wines of the country like milk. "I envy you," said Chicot to the king; "your court is delightful, and your life pleasant." "If my wife were here, Chicot, I would not say what I am about to say, but in her absence I will tell you that the best part of my life is that which you do not see." "Ah! sire, they tell, indeed, fine tales of you." Henri leaned back in his chair to laugh. "They say I reign more over my female than my male subjects, do they not?" said he. "Yes, sire, and it astonishes me." "Why so?" "Because, sire, you have much of that restless spirit which makes great kings." "Ah, Chicot! you are wrong; I am lazy, and the proof of it is in my life. If I have a love to choose, I take the nearest; if a wine, the bottle close to my hand. To your health, Chicot." "Sire, you do me honor," said Chicot, emptying his glass. "Thus," continued the king, "what quarrels in my household!"