— ”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Guitant, with a burst of laughter; “those men must be poets.”
“Come, Guitant, speak, if you please, respectfully of these gentlemen,” said Mazarin; “don’t you know that I was in my youth a poet? I wrote verses in the style of Benserade — — ”
“You, my lord?”
“Yes, I; shall I repeat to you some of my verses?”
“Just as you please, my lord. I do not understand Italian.”
“Yes, but you understand French,” and Mazarin laid his hand upon Guitant’s shoulder.
“My good, my brave Guitant, whatsoever command I may give you in that language —