He could not listen long to any man.

"Is it so?
Is it so?
Do you do these things ?" Count Hannibal shrugged his shoulders and was about to answer, when a thick, drunken voice rose from the crowd behind him.
"Is it what?
Eh! Is it what ?" it droned.

And a figure with bloodshot eyes, disordered beard, and rich clothes awry, forced its way through the obsequious circle.

It was Marshal Tavannes.

"Eh, what?
You'd beard the King, would you ?" he hiccoughed truculently, his eyes on Father Pezelay, his hand on his sword.