"For the rest, farewell my little master! When one does not understand the jest it is time to be gone." He was halfway to the door, watched by all, when the King spoke.
"Foucauld!" he cried, in an odd, strangled voice.

"Foucauld!" And the Huguenot favourite turned back, wondering.

"One minute!" the King continued, in the same forced voice.

"Stay till morning--in my closet.
It is late now.

We'll play away the rest of the night!" "Your Majesty must excuse me," Rochefoucauld answered frankly.