"I am angry with you, Monsieur Manicamp," continued the king.

"With me, sire?"

"Yes. How was it that you, who are De Guiche's intimate friend, and who
know that he is subject to such acts of folly, did not stop him in time?"

Manicamp no longer knew what to do; the tone in which the king spoke was
anything but that of a credulous man. On the other hand, it did not
indicate any particular severity, nor did he seem to care very much about
the cross-examination. There was more of raillery in it than menace.
"And you say, then," continued the king, "that it was positively De
Guiche's horse that was found dead?"

"Quite positive, sire."

"Did that astonish you?"

"No, sire; for your majesty will remember that, at the last hunt, M. de
Saint-Maure had a horse killed under him, and in the same way."

"Yes, but that one was ripped open."

"Of course, sire."

"Had Guiche's horse been ripped open like M. de Saint-Maure's horse, I
should not have been astonished."

Manicamp opened his eyes very wide.