dined as usual at the table of the King, who joked him greatly on the
mistakes he had made while hawking that morning.

Henry made excuses for himself, saying that he came from the mountains
and not the plain, but he promised Charles to study the art. Catharine
was charming, and on leaving the table begged Marguerite to pass the
evening with her.

At eight o'clock Henry took two attendants, left by the Porte Saint
Honore, made a long circuit, returned by the Tour de Bois, and crossing
the Seine at the ferry of Nesle, rode up the Rue Saint Jacques, where he
dismissed his gentlemen, as if he were going to keep some love
appointment. At the corner of the Rue des Mathurins he found a man on
horseback, wrapped in a cloak. He approached him.

"Mantes!" said the man.

"Pau!" replied the king.

The man at once dismounted. Henry put on his splashed mantle, mounted
the horse, which was covered with foam, returned by the Rue de la Harpe,
crossed the Pont Saint Michel, passed down the Rue Barthelemy, again
crossed the river at the Pont aux Meuniers, descended the quays, took
the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, and knocked at the door of Maitre la Huriere's.

La Mole was in a room writing a long love-letter--to whom may easily be
imagined.

Coconnas was in the kitchen with La Huriere, watching half a dozen
partridges roasting, and disputing with his friend the host as to when
they should be removed from the spit. At this moment Henry knocked.
Gregoire opened the door and led the horse to the stable, while the
traveller entered, stamping on the floor as if to warm his benumbed
feet.

"Maitre La Huriere," said La Mole, as he continued to write, "here is a
gentleman asking for you."

La Huriere advanced, looked at Henry from head to foot, and as his thick
cloth mantle did not inspire the innkeeper with very great veneration:

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Well, by Heaven!" said Henry, pointing to La Mole, "monsieur has just
told you; I am a gentleman from Gascony come to court."

"What do you want?"

"A room and supper."

"Humph!" said La Huriere, "have you a lackey?"

This was the question usually asked, as is well known.

"No," replied Henry, "but I hope to have one when I make my fortune."

"I do not let rooms to any one unless he has a lackey," said La Huriere.

"Even if I offered to pay you double for your supper?"

"Oh! you are very generous, worthy sir!" said La Huriere, looking
suspiciously at Henry.

"Not at all, bu