hese alleys of cypresses, and 3,000 feet
of shade, make me feel uncomfortable. I am coming from Paris to tell the
truth at Nerac, where they have such deep shade, that women do not see
their husbands walking with other women. Corbiou! they will be ready to
kill me for troubling so many charming promenades. Happily I know the
king is a philosopher, and I trust in that. Besides, I am an ambassador,
and sacred."

Chicot entered Nerac in the evening, just at the time of the promenades
which occupied the king so much. Chicot could see the simplicity of the
royal manners by the ease with which he obtained an audience. A valet
opened the door of a rustic-looking apartment bordered with flowers,
above which was the king's antechamber and sitting-room. An officer or
page ran to find the king, wherever he might be when any one wished for
an audience, and he always came at the first invitation. Chicot was
pleased with this; he judged the king to be open and candid, and he
thought so still more when he saw the king coming up a winding walk
bordered with laurels and roses, an old hat on his head, and dressed in
a dark green doublet and gray boots, and with a cup and ball in his
hand. He looked gay and happy, as though care never came near him.

"Who wants me?" said he to the page.

"A man who looks to me half courtier, half soldier."

Chicot heard these words, and advanced.

"It is I, sire."

"What! M. Chicot in Navarre! Ventre St. Gris! welcome, dear M. Chicot!"

"A thousand thanks, sire."

"Quite well? Ah, parbleu! we will drink together, I am quite delighted.
Chicot, sit down there." And he pointed to a grass bank.

"Oh no, sire!"

"Have you come 200 leagues for me to leave you standing? No, no; sit
down; one cannot talk standing."

"But, sire, respect--"

"Respect! here in Navarre! You are mad, my poor Chicot."

"No, sire, I am not mad, but I am an ambassador."

A slight frown contracted Henri's brow, but disappeared at once.

"Ambassador, from whom?"

"From Henri III. I come from Paris and the Louvre, sire."

"Oh! that is different. Come with me," said the king, rising, with a
sigh.

"Page, take wine up to my room. Come, Chicot, I will conduct you."

Chicot followed the king, thinking, "How disagreeable! to come and
trouble this honest man in his peace and his ignorance. Bah! he will be
philosophical."

CHAPTER XLIV.

HOW THE KING OF NAVARRE GUESSES THAT "TURENNIUS" MEANS TURENNE, AND
"MARGOTA"