After the departure of the young men, Chicot went on quietly; but as
soon as they had disappeared in the valley, he stopped at the top of a
hill and looked all round him; then, seeing no one, he seated himself,
and commenced an examination. He had now two purses, for he perceived
that the packet he had received contained money, besides the letter. It
was quite a royal purse, embroidered with an "H" at each end.

"It is pretty," said Chicot, "no one could be more generous or more
stupid. Decidedly I shall never make anything of the king. All that
astonishes me is that he did not have the letter embroidered outside
also. Now let me see how much money he has sent. One hundred crowns;
just the sum I borrowed from Gorenflot. Ah! pardon, Henri, this is good.
But the purse annoys me; if I were to keep it I should feel as if the
very birds, as they flew over my head, would denounce me as a royal
messenger."

So saying, he drew from his pocket Gorenflot's bag, emptied the king's
money into it, then placed a stone in the purse, and threw it into the
Orge, which flowed under the bridge at his feet.

"So much for myself--now for Henri," said Chicot; and he took up the
letter, broke the seal with the utmost tranquillity, and sent the
envelope into the river after the purse. "Now," said he, "let us read.

"'Dear brother, the deep love which you felt for our late dear
brother and king, Charles IX., still clings to the Louvre and to my
heart; it grieves me, therefore, to have to write to you about
vexatious things. You are strong, however, against ill fortune, so
that I do not hesitate to communicate these things to you--things
which can only be told to a tried friend. Besides, I have an