Charles II. withdrew his hand from that of the king, and drawing back, to salute him with more ceremony, "With all my heart, thanks!" replied he, "sire; but I have prayed without success to the greatest king on earth; now I will go and ask a miracle of God." And he went out without being willing to hear any more, his head carried loftily, his hand trembling, with a painful contraction of his noble countenance, and that profound gloom which, finding no more hope in the world of men, appeared to go beyond it, and ask it in worlds unknown. The officer of musketeers, on seeing him pass by thus pale, bowed almost to his knees as he saluted him. He then took a flambeau, called two musketeers, and descended the deserted staircase with the unfortunate king, holding in his left hand his hat, the plume of which swept the steps. Arrived at the door, the musketeer asked the king which way he was going, that he might direct the musketeers.
"Monsieur," replied Charles II., in a subdued voice, "you who have known my father, say, did you ever pray for him? If you have done so, do not forget me in your prayers. Now, I am going alone, and beg of you not to accompany me, or have me accompanied any further."
The officer bowed and sent away the musketeers into the interior of the palace. But he himself remained an instant under the porch watching the departing Charles II., till he was lost in the turn of the next street. "To him as to his father formerly," murmured he, "Athos, if he were here, would say with reason, – 'Salute fallen majesty!'" Then, reascending the staircase: "Oh! the vile service that I follow!" said he at every step. "Oh! my pitiful master! Life thus carried on is no longer tolerable, and it is at length time that I should do something! No more generosity, no more energy! The master has succeeded, the pupil is starved forever. Mordioux! I will not resist. Come, you men," continued he, entering the ante-chamber, "why are you all looking at me so? Extinguish these torches and return to your posts. Ah! you were guarding me? Yes, you watch over me, do you not, worthy fellows? Brave fools! I am not the Duc de Guise. Begone! They will not assassinate me in the little passage. Besides," added he, in a low voice, "that would be a resolution, and no resolutions have been formed since Monsieur le Cardinal Richelieu died. Now, with all his faults, that was a man! It is settled: to-morrow I will throw my cassock to the nettles."
Then, reflecting: "No," said he, "not yet! I have one great trial to make and I will make it; but that, and I swear it, shall be the last, Mordioux!"
He had not finished speaking when a voice issued from the king's chamber. "Monsieur le lieutenant!" said this voice.
"Here I am," replied he.
"The king desires to speak to you."
"Humph!" said the lieutenant; "perhaps of what I was thinking about." And he went into the king's apartment.
Chapter XII. The King and the Lieutenant
As soon as the king saw the officer enter, he dismissed his valet de chambre and his gentleman.
"Who is on duty to-morrow, monsieur?" asked he.
The lieutenant bowed his head with military politeness, and replied, "I am, sire."
"What! still you?"
"Always I, sire."
"How can that be, monsieur?"
"Sire, when traveling, the musketeers supply all the posts of your majesty's household; that is to say, yours, her majesty the queen's, and monsieur le cardinal's, the latter of whom borrows of the king the best part, or rather the numerous part, of the royal guard."
"But in the interims?"
"There are no interims, sire, but for twenty or thirty men who rest out of a hundred and twenty. At the Louvre it is very different, and if I were at the Louvre I should rely upon my brigadier; but, when traveling, sire, no one knows what may happen, and I prefer doing my duty myself."
"Then you are on guard every day?"
"And every night. Yes, sire."
"Monsieur, I cannot allow that-I will have you rest."
"That is very kind, sire; but I will not."
"What do you say?" said the king, who did not at first comprehend the full meaning of this reply.
"I say, sire, that I will not expose myself to the chance of a fault. If the devil had a trick to play on me, you understand, sire, as he knows the man with whom he has to deal, he would chose the moment when I should not be there. My duty and the peace of my conscience before everything, sire."
"But such duty will kill you, monsieur."
"Eh! sire, I have performed it for thirty years, and in all France and Navarre there is not a man in better health than I am. Moreover, I entreat you, sire, not to trouble yourself about me. That would appear very strange to me, seeing that I am not accustomed to it."
The king cut short the conversation by a fresh question. "Shall you be here, then, to-morrow morning?"
"As at present? yes, sire."
The king walked several times up and down his chamber; it was very plain that he burned with a desire to speak, but that he was restrained by some fear or other. The lieutenant, standing motionless, hat in hand, watched him making these evolutions, and, whilst looking at him, grumbled to himself, biting his mustache:
"He has not half a crown worth of resolution! Parole d'honneur! I would lay a wager he does not speak at all!"
The king continued to walk about, casting from time to time a side glance at the lieutenant. "He is the very image of his father," continued the latter, in is secret soliloquy, "he is at once proud, avaricious, and timid. The devil take his master, say I."
The king stopped. "Lieutenant," said he.
"I am here, sire."
"Why did you cry out this evening, down below in the salons-'The king's service! His majesty's musketeers!'"
"Because you gave me the order, sire."
"I?" "Yourself."
"Indeed, I did not say a word, monsieur."
"Sire, an order is given by a sign, by a gesture, by a glance, as intelligibly, as freely, and as clearly as by word of mouth. A servant who has nothing but ears is not half a good servant."
"Your eyes are very penetrating, then, monsieur."
"How is that, sire?"
"Because they see what is not."
"My eyes are good, though, sire, although they have served their master long and much: when they have anything to see, they seldom miss the opportunity. Now, this evening, they saw that your majesty colored with endeavoring to conceal the inclination to yawn, that your majesty looked with eloquent supplications, first to his eminence, and then at her majesty, the queen-mother, and at length to the entrance door, and they so thoroughly remarked all I have said, that they saw your majesty's lips articulate these words: 'Who will get me out of this?'"
"Monsieur!"
"Or something to this effect, sire-'My musketeers!' I could then no longer hesitate. That look was for me. I cried out instantly, 'His majesty's musketeers!' And, besides, that was shown to be true, sire, not only by your majesty's not saying I was wrong, but proving I was right by going out at once."
The king turned away to smile; then, after a few seconds, he again fixed his limpid eye upon that countenance, so intelligent, so bold, and so firm, that it might have been said to be the proud and energetic profile of the eagle facing the sun. "That is all very well," said he, after a short silence, during which he endeavored, in vain, to make his officer lower his eyes.
But seeing the king said no more, the latter pirouetted on his heels, and took three steps towards the door, muttering, "He will not speak! Mordioux! he will not speak!"
"Thank you, monsieur," said the king at last.
"Humph!" continued the lieutenant; "there was only wanting that. Blamed for having been less of a fool than another might have been." And he went to the door, allowing his spurs to jingle in true military style. But when he was on the threshold,