jewels; and I
repent bitterly."

"Idiot!" exclaimed Henri, "what are you talking about now? Nobody
remembers anything about that."

"Let me alone," answered Chicot, "I must go on pretending to be the
King."

"Speak," said the voice.

"I acknowledge," continued Chicot, "that I snatched the throne from my
brother D'Alencon, who was the rightful heir, since I had formally
renounced my claims when I was elected King of Poland; I repent
bitterly."

"Rascal!" cried the King.

"There is yet something more," said the voice.

"I acknowledge to have plotted with my excellent mother, Catherine de'
Medicis, to hunt from France my brother-in-law the King of Navarre,
after first destroying all his friends, and my sister Queen
Marguerite, after first destroying all her lovers; and I repent
bitterly."

"Scoundrel! Cease!" muttered the King, his teeth clenched in anger.

"Sire, it is no use trying to hide what Providence knows as well as we
do."

"There is a crime unconfessed that has nothing to do with politics,"
said the voice.

"Ah, now we are getting to it," observed Chicot dolefully; "it is
about my conduct, I suppose?"

"It is," answered the voice.

"I cannot deny," continued Chicot, always speaking in the name of the
King, "that I am very effeminate, very lazy; a hopeless trifler, an
incorrigible hypocrite."

"It is true," said the voice.

"I have behaved ill to all women, to my own wife in particular; and
such a good wife too."

"A man should love his wife as himself, and above all the world,"
cried the voice angrily.

"Oh dear!" wailed Chicot in despairing tones; "then I certainly have
sinned terribly."

"And by your example you have caused others to sin."

"That is true, sadly true."

"You very nearly sent that poor Saint-Luc to perdition."

"Bah!" said Chicot, "are you sure I did not send him there quite?"

"No; but such a fate may befall both of you if you do not let him go
back to his family at break of day."

"Dear me!" said Chicot to the King, "the voice seems to take a great
interest in the house of Cosse."

"If you disobey me, you will suffer the same torments as Sardanapalus,
Nabuchodnosor, and the Marshal De Retz."

Henry III. gave a loud groan; at this threat he became more frightened
than ever.

"I am lost," he ejaculated wildly; "I am lost. That voice from on high
will be my death-warrant."

ALEXANDRE DUMAS, JUNIOR

(1824-1895)

BY FRANCISQUE SARCEY

We shall no