“Sire!” cried he, “you have an army.”

“Wait!” replied Henri.

At Lauzerte, six hundred more men came and ranged themselves behind the cavaliers.

“Foot soldiers!” cried Chicot.

“Nothing but beaters,” said the king.

Chicot frowned and spoke no more.

Twenty times his eyes turned toward the country, and the idea of flight presented itself to him.  But Chicot had his guard of honor, doubtless as ambassador of the king of France, and so well was he recommended to this guard, that he could not make a movement that was not repeated by ten men.

This annoyed him, and he said so to the king.

“Diable!” said Henri, “it is your own fault; you tried to run away from Nerac, and I am afraid you will try it again.”

“Sire, if I give my word as a gentleman not to do so?”

“That will do.”

“Besides, I should be wrong to do so.”

“How so?”

“Yes; for if I stay, I believe I shall see curious things.”

“I am of your opinion, my dear Chicot.”

At this moment they were going through the town of Montcuq, and four field-pieces took their place in the army.

“I return to my first idea,” said Chicot, “that the wolves in this country are different from others, and are differently treated; with artillery, for instance.”

“Ah!” said Henri, “it is a mania of the people of Montcuq.  Since I gave them these four pieces they take them about everywhere.”

“Well, sire, shall we arrive to-day?”

“No, to-morrow.”

“To-morrow morning or evening?”

“Morning.”

“Then,” said Chicot, “it is at Cahors we are to hunt, is it not, sire?”

“On that side,” replied Henri.

“But, sire, you who have infantry, cavalry, and artillery to hunt wolves with, should also have taken the royal standard, and then the honor to the wolves would have been complete.”

“We have not forgotten it, Chicot, ventre St. Gris! only it is left in the case for fear of dirtying it.  But if you wish to see it, and know under whose banner you march, you shall see it.”

“No, no, it is useless; leave it where it is.”

“Well, be easy, you will see it before long.”

They passed the second night at Catus.  Troops kept arriving all night.

“It is lucky we are not going on to Paris,” said Chicot, “we should arrive with 100,000 men.”

The next morning, by eight o’clock, they were before Cahors, with 1,000 foot soldiers and 2,000 horse.

They found the city in a state of defense, M. de Vezin having heard rumors of the advance.

“Ah!” said the king, “he is warned; that is very annoying.”

“We must lay siege in due form, sire,” said Mornay; “we expect still about 2,000 men, and that is enough.”

“Let us assemble the council and begin the trenches.”

Chicot listened to all this in amazement.  The pensive air of Henri alone reassured him, for it confirmed his suspicions that he was no warrior.  He let every one speak, and said nothing.  All at once he raised his head, and said in a commanding tone: