than with a mad king. Adieu, I am going."

The king locked the door.

"Henri, you look sinister; if you do not let me go, I will cry,
I will call, I will break the window, I will kick down the door."

"Chicot," said the king, in a melancholy tone, "you abuse my
sadness."

"Ah! I understand, you are afraid to be alone. Tyrants always
are so. Take my long sword, and let me take the scabbard to my
room."

At the word "afraid," Henri shuddered, and he looked nervously
around, and seemed so agitated and grew so pale, that Chicot
began to think him really ill, and said,--

"Come, my son, what is the matter, tell your troubles to your
friend Chicot."

The king looked at him and said, "Yes, you are my friend, my only
friend."

"There is," said Chicot, "the abbey of Valency vacant."

"Listen, Chicot, you are discreet."

"There is also that of Pithiviers, where they make such good pies."