'Hè，hè！'chuckled the King，rubbing his hands with that internal laugh which irradiates the countenance.He could not disguise his delight，though he made a momentary effort to compose himself.No one had the least idea what it meant，not even Olivier.He remained silent for a moment，but with a thoughtful and satisfied air.
'Are they in force？'he asked suddenly.
'They are indeed，Sire，'replied Coictier.
'How many？'
'Six thousand at the very least.'
The King could not repress a pleased'Good！—Are they armed？'he went on.
'With scythes，pikes，hackbuts，pickaxes—every description of violent weapon.'
The King seemed in nowise disturbed by this alarming list.Compére Jacques thought it advisable to add：'If your Majesty sends not speedy succour to the provest，he is lost！'
'We will send，'said the King with simulated earnestness.'Good！we will certainly send.Monsieur the Provost is our friend.Six thousand！These are determined rogues！Their boldness is extraordinary，and we are highly incensed thereat.But we have few men about us to-night.It will be time enough to-morrow morning.'
Coictier gave a cry.'This moment，Sire！They would have time to sack the court-house twenty times over，storm the manor，and hang the provost himself.For God's sake，Sire，send before to-morrow morning！'
The King looked him full in the face.'I said to-morrow morning.'It was one of those looks to which there is no reply.
After a pause，Louis again raised his voice.'My good Jacques，you should know that—What did—'he corrected himself—'what does the feudal jurisdiction of the provost comprise？'
'Sire，the Rue de la Calandre as far as the Rue de l'Herberie，the Place Saint-Michel and places commonly called Les Mureaux situated near the Church of Notre-Dame des Champs，'—here the King lifted the brim of his hat—'which mansions are thirteen in number；further the Court of Miracles，further the Lazaretto called the Banlieue，further the whole of the high-road beginning at the Lazaretto and ending at the Porte Saint-Jacques.Of these several places he is reeve of the ways，chief，mean，and inferior justiciary，full and absolute lord.'
'So，ho！'said the King，scratching his left ear with his right hand，'that comprises a good slice of my town！Ah，Monsieur the Provost was king of all this！'
This time he did not correct himself.He continued cogitating and as if talking to himself：'Softly，Monsieur the Provost，you had a very pretty piece of our Paris！'
Suddenly he burst out：'Pasque-Dieu！what are all these people that claim to be highway-reeves，justiciaries，lords and masters along with us！that have their toll-gates at the corner of every field，their gibbet and their executioner at every cross-way among our people，so that，as the Greek thought he had as many gods as he had springs of water，the Persian as many as the stars he saw，the Frenchman reckons as many kings as he sees gibbets.Pardieu！this thing is evil，and the confusion of it incenses me！I would know if it be God's pleasure that there should be in Paris any keepers of the highways but the King，any justiciary but our Parliament，any emperor but ourself in this empire？By my soul，but the day must come when there shall be in France but one king，one lord，one judge，one headsman，just as in paradise there is but one God！'
He lifted his cap again and went on，still deep in his own thoughts，with the look and tone of a huntsman uncoupling and cheering on his pack：
'Good，my people！Well done！Pull down these false lords！Do your work！At them！At them！Pillage，hang，sack them！Ah，you would be kings，my lords！At them！my people，at them！'
He stopped himself abruptly，bit his lips as if to regain possession of his escaping thoughts，bent his piercing eye in turn on each of the five persons around him，and suddenly taking his hat in both hands and regarding it steadfastly，he exclaimed：'Oh，I would burn thee，didst thou know what I have in my head！'
Then casting around him the alert and suspicious glance of a fox stealing back to his hole—'No matter，'he said，'we will send help to Monsieur the Provost.Most unfortunately we have very few troops here at this moment to send against such a mob.We must wait till to-morrow.Order shall then be restored in the city，and all who are taken shall be promptly hanged.'
'That reminds me，Sire，'said Coictier，'I forgot in my first perturbation，the watch have seized two stragglers of the band.If your Majesty pleases to see these men，they are here.'
'If it be my pleasure！'cried the King.'What！Pasque-Dieu！canst thou forget such a thing？Run quick.Olivier，do thou go and bring them here.'
M re Olivier went out and returned immediately with the two prisoners，surrounded by archers of the body-guard.The first of the two had a wild，imbecile face，drunken and wonder-struck.He was clad in rags and walked with one knee bent and dragging his foot.The other presented a pale and smiling countenance，with which the reader is already acquainted.
The King scrutinized them a moment without speaking，then abruptly addressed the first prisoner：
'What is thy name？'
'Gieffroy Pincebourde.'
'Thy trade？'
'Truand.'
'What wast thou doing in that damnable riot？'
The truand gazed at the King，swinging his arms the while with an air of sottish stupidity.His was one of those uncouth heads in which the intellect is about as much at its ease as a light under an extinguisher.
'Were you not going to outrageously attack and plunder your lord the Provost of the Palais？'
'I know they were going to take something from somebody，but that's all.'
A soldier showed the King a pruning-hook which had been found on the truand.
'Dost thou recognise this weapon？'demanded the King.
'Yes，'tis my pruning-hook.I am a vine-dresser.'
'And dost thou know this man for thy companion？'added Louis，pointing to the other prisoner.
'No，I do not know him.'
