or he was remarkably clear-sighted: and though often
betrayed, was never deceived. But ennui was the curse of his life; he
was ennuye now, and was wondering if any one would come and amuse him,
when M. le Duc d'Epernon was announced. Henri was delighted.

"Ah! good-evening, duke; I am enchanted to see you. Why were you not
present at the execution of Salcede?--I told you there would be room in
my box."

"Sire, I was unable to avail myself of your majesty's kindness."

"Unable?"

"Yes, sire; I was busy."

"One would think that you were my minister, coming to announce, with a
long face, that some subsidy had not been paid."

"Ma foi! your majesty is right; the subsidy has not been paid, and I am
penniless. But it was not that which occupied me."

"What then?"

"Your majesty knows what passed at the execution of Salcede?"

"Parbleu! I was there."

"They tried to carry off the criminal."

"I did not see that."

"It is the rumor all through the city, however."

"A groundless one."

"I believe your majesty is wrong."

"On what do you found your belief?"

"Because Salcede denied before the people what he had confessed to the
judges."

"Ah! you know that, already."

"I try to know all that interests your majesty."

"Thanks; but what do you conclude from all this?"

"That a man who dies like Salcede was a good servant, sire."

"Well?"

"And the master who has such followers is fortunate."

"You mean to say that I have none such; or, rather, that I no longer
have them. You are right, if that be what you mean."

"I did not mean that; your majesty would find, I am sure, were there
occasion, followers as devoted as Salcede."

"Well, duke, do not look gloomy; I am sad enough already. Do be gay."

"Gayety cannot be forced, sire."

The king struck the table angrily. "You are a bad friend," said he; "I
lost all, when I lost my former ones."

"May I dare to say to your majesty that you hardly encourage the new
ones."

The king looked at him with an expression which he well understood.

"Ah! your majesty reproaches me with your benefits," said he, "but I do
not reproach you with my devotion."

"Lavalette," cried Henri, "you make me sad; you who are so clever, and
could so easily make me joyful. It is not your nature to fight
continually, like my old favorites; but you are facetious and amusing,
and give good counsel. You know all my affairs, like that other more
humble friend, with whom I never ex