WHAT WAS PASSING AT THE LOUVRE ABOUT THE TIME CHICOT ENTERED NÉRAC. The necessity of following Chicot to the end of his mission has kept us a long time away from the Louvre. The king, after having passed so bravely through his adventurous return from Vincennes, experienced that retrospective emotion which sometimes is felt by the bravest heart after the danger is over. He entered the Louvre without saying anything, made his prayers longer than usual, forgetting to thank the officers and guards who had served him so well. Then he went to bed, astonishing his valets by the rapidity of his toilet; and D'Epernon, who remained in his room to the last, expecting thanks at least, went away in a very bad humor. At two o'clock every one slept in the Louvre. The next day, Henri took four bouillons in bed instead of two, and then sent for MM. de Villeguie and D'O to come to his room, to speak about a new financial edict. The queen received the order to dine alone, but it was added that in the evening the king would receive. All day he played with Love, saying, every time that the animal showed his white teeth, "Ah, rebel! you want to bite me also; you attack your king also; but you are conquered, M. Love--conquered, wretched leaguer--conquered." His secretaries of state were somewhat astonished at all this, particularly as he said nothing else, and signed everything without looking at it. At three o'clock in the afternoon he asked for D'Epernon. They replied that he was reviewing the light horse; then he inquired for De Loignac, but he also was absent. He asked for lunch, and, while he ate, had an edifying discourse read to him, which he interrupted by saying to the reader, "Was it not Plutarch who wrote the life of Sylla?" "Yes, sire," said the reader, much astonished at being interrupted in his pious reading by this profane question. "Do you remember that passage where the historian recounts how the dictator avoided death?" The reader hesitated. "Not precisely, sire; it is a long time since I read Plutarch." At this moment, the Cardinal de Joyeuse was announced. "Ah! here is a learned man, he will tell me at once!" cried the king. "Sire," said the cardinal, "am I lucky enough to arrive apropos--it is a rare thing in this world." "Ma foi! yes; you heard my question?" "Your majesty asked, I think, in what manner, and when, Sylla narrowly escaped death?" "Just so--can you answer me, cardinal?" "Nothing more easy, sire." "So much the better." "Sylla, who had killed so many men, never risked his life but in combats; did your majesty mean in one of those?" "Yes; in one in which I think I recollect he was very near death. Open a Plutarch, cardinal; there should be one there translated by Amyot, and read me the passage where he escaped the javelins of his enemies, thanks to the swiftness of his white horse."