The king, without speaking a word, wiped the drops of cold and abundant perspiration which trickled from his temples. The moment of silence which followed this vehement outbreak represented for him who had spoken, and for him who had listened, ages of suffering.
“Monsieur,” said the king at length, “you spoke the word forgetfulness. I have heard nothing but that word; I will reply, then, to it alone. Others have perhaps been able to forget, but I have not, and the proof is, that I remember that one day of riot, that one day when the furious people, raging and roaring as the sea, invaded the royal palace; that one day when I feigned sleep in my bed, one man alone, naked sword in hand, concealed behind my curtain, watched over my life, ready to risk his own for me, as he had before risked it twenty times for the lives of my family. Was not the gentleman, whose name I then demanded, called M. d’Artagnan? say, Monsieur.”
“Your Majesty has a good memory,” replied the officer, coldly.
“You see, then,” continued the king, “if I have such remembrances of my childhood, what an amount I may gather in the age of reason.”
“Your Majesty has been richly endowed by God,” said the officer, in the same tone.
“Come, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” continued Louis, with feverish agitation, “ought you not to be patient as I am? Ought you not to do as I do? Come!”
“And what do you do, sire?”
“I wait.”
“Your Majesty may do so, because you are young; but I, sire, have not time to wait; old age is at my door, and death is behind it, looking into the very depths of my house. Your Majesty is beginning life, its future is full of hope and fortune; but I, sire, I am on the other side of the horizon, and we are so far from each other, that I should never have time to wait till Your Majesty came up to me.”
Louis made another turn in his apartment, still wiping the moisture from his brow, in a manner that would have terrified his physicians, if his physicians had witnessed the state His Majesty was in.
“It is very well, Monsieur,” said Louis XIV, in a sharp voice; “you are desirous of having your discharge, and you shall have it. You offer me your resignation of the rank of lieutenant of the Musketeers?”
“I deposit it humbly at Your Majesty’s feet, sire.”
“That is sufficient. I will order your pension.”
“I shall have a thousand obligations to Your Majesty.”
“Monsieur,” said the king, with a violent effort, “I think you are losing a good master.”
“And I am sure of it, sire.”
“Shall you ever find such another?”
“Oh, sire! I know that Your Majesty is alone in the world; therefore will I never again take service with any other king upon earth, and will never again have other master than myself.”
“You say so?”
“I swear so, Your Majesty.”
“I shall remember that word, Monsieur.”
D’Artagnan bowed.
“And you know I have a good memory,” said the king.
“Yes, sire; and yet I should desire that that memory should fail Your Majesty in this instance, in order that you might forget all the miseries I have been forced to spread before your eyes. Your Majesty is so much above the poor and the mean, that I hope—”
“My majesty, Monsieur, will act like the sun, which looks upon all, great and small, rich and poor, giving luster to some, warmth to others, and life to all. Adieu, Monsieur d’Artagnan—adieu: you are free.”
And the king, with a hoarse sob, which was lost in his throat, passed quickly into the next room. D’Artagnan took up his hat from the table on which he had thrown it, and went out.
15
The Proscribed
D’Artagnan had not reached the bottom of the staircase, when the king called his gentleman. “I have a commission to give you, Monsieur,” said he.
“I am at Your Majesty’s commands.”
“Wait, then.” And the young king began to write the following letter, which cost him more than one sigh, although, at the same time, something like a feeling of triumph glittered in his eyes:
“My Lord Cardinal—Thanks to your good counsels, and, above all, thanks to your firmness, I have succeeded in overcoming a weakness unworthy of a king. You have too ably arranged my destiny to allow gratitude not to stop me at the moment when I was about to destroy your work. I felt I was wrong to wish to make my life turn from the course you had marked out for it. Certainly it would have been a misfortune to France and my family if a misunderstanding had taken place between me and my minister. This, however, would certainly have happened if I had made your niece my wife. I am perfectly aware of this, and will henceforth oppose nothing to the accomplishment of my destiny. I am prepared, then, to wed the infanta, Maria Theresa. You may at once open the conference.
The king, after reperusing the letter, sealed it himself.
“This letter for my Lord Cardinal,” said he.
The gentleman took it. At Mazarin’s door he found Bernouin waiting with anxiety.
“Well?” asked the minister’s valet de chambre.
“Monsieur,” said the gentleman, “here is a letter for His Eminence.”
“A letter! Ah! we expected one after the little journey of the morning.”
“Oh! you know, then, that His Majesty—”
“As first minister, it belongs to the duties of our charge to know everything. And His Majesty prays and implores, I presume.”
“I don’t know, but he sighed frequently whilst he was writing.”
“Yes, yes, yes; we understand all that; people sigh sometimes from happiness as well as from grief, Monsieur.”
“And yet the king did not look very happy when he returned, Monsieur.”
“You did not see clearly. Besides, you only saw His Majesty on his return, for he was only accompanied by the lieutenant of the Guards. But I had His Eminence’s telescope; I
