Simon pretends to be, the most
debonnaire man since Louis le Debonnaire, what have I to fear?"

"Oh, mon Dieu! nothing, my dear son," said the palatine, taking the hand
of the prince, and looking at him with as much maternal tenderness as
her little eyes were capable of expressing, "nothing, if every one knew
you as well as I do, and saw you so truly good that you cannot hate even
your enemies; but Henry IV., whom unluckily you resemble a little too
much on certain points, was as good, and that did not prevent the
existence of a Ravaillac. Alas! mein Gott," continued the princess,
mixing up French and German in her agitation, "it is always the best
kings that they do assassinate; tyrants take precautions, and the
poniard never reaches them. You must never go out without a guard; it is
you, and not I, my son, who require a regiment of soldiers."

"My mother," answered the regent, "will you listen to a story?"

"Yes, certainly, for you relate them exquisitely."

"Well, you know that there was in Rome, I forget in what precise year of
the republic, a very brave consul, who had the misfortune, shared by
Henry IV. and myself, of going out of a night. It happened that this
consul was sent against the Carthaginians, and having invented an
implement of war called a crow, he gained the first naval battle in
which the Romans had been victors, so that when he returned to Rome,
congratulating himself beforehand, no doubt, on the increase of fortune
which would follow his increase of reputation, he was not deceived; all
the population awaited him at the city gates, and conducted him in
triumph to the capitol, where the senate expected him.

"The senate announced to him that, in reward for his victory, they were
going to bestow on him something which must be highly pleasing to him,
which was, that whenever he went out he should be preceded by a
musician, who should announce to every one, by playing on the flute,
that he was followed by the famous Duilius, the conqueror of the
Carthaginians. Duilius, you will understand, my mother, was at the
height of joy at such an honor. He returned home with a proud bearing,
and preceded by his flute-player, who played his best, amid the
acclamations of the multitude, who cried at the top of their voices,
'Long live, Duilius; long live the conqueror of the Carthaginians; long
live the savior of Rome!' This was so intoxicating that the poor consul
nearly went crazy with joy. Twice during the d