“Your departure?”

“Pardieu! You will tell him I am gone into England; and that I am living in my little country-house.”

“In England, you! — And the king’s orders?”

“You get more and more silly: do you imagine that I am going to the Louvre, to place myself at the disposal of that little crowned wolf-cub?”

“The king a wolf-cub? Why, monsieur le chevalier, you are mad!”

“On the contrary, I never was so sane. You do not know what he wants to do with me, this worthy son of Louis le Juste! — But,mordioux! that is policy. He wishes to ensconce me snugly in the Bastile — purely and simply, look you!”