The King seemed incapable of speech, and it was Chicot who filled the
gap.

"It is pretty apparent," he said, with a rude laugh. "The cock will lay
and Foucauld will pay--to-morrow!"

The young nobleman's colour rose; between him and the Gascon gentleman
was no love lost.

"There are some debts I pay to-day," he cried haughtily. "For the rest,
farewell my little master! When one does not understand the jest it is
time to be gone."

He was halfway to the door, watched by all, when the King spoke.

"Foucauld!" he cried, in an odd, strangled voice. "Foucauld!" And the
Huguenot favourite turned back, wondering. "One minute!" the King
continued, in the same forced voice. "Stay till morning--in my closet.
It is late now. We'll play away the rest of the night!"

"Your Majesty must excuse me," Rochefoucauld answered frankly. "I am
dead asleep."

"You can sleep in the Garde-Robe," the King persisted.

"Thank you for nothing, sire!" was the gay answer. "I know that bed! I
shall sleep longer and better in my own."

The King shuddered, but strove to hide the movement under a shrug of his