, as much from the pleasure one feels in relieving one's
heart, as on account of the rarity of the fact. I will speak the truth,
then, to my king, at the same time imploring him to excuse the frankness
of an old soldier."

Louis looked at his officer with anxiety, which he manifested by
the agitation of his gesture. "Well, then speak," said he, "for I am
impatient to hear the truths you have to tell me."

The officer threw his hat upon a table, and his countenance, always so
intelligent and martial, assumed, all at once, a strange character of
grandeur and solemnity. "Sire," said he, "I quit the king's service
because I am dissatisfied. The valet, in these times, can approach his
master as respectfully as I do, can give him an account of his labor,
bring back his tools, return the funds that have been intrusted to him,
and say, 'Master, my day's work is done. Pay me, if you please, and let
us part.'"

"Monsieur! monsieur!" exclaimed the king, crimson with rage.

"Ah! sire," replied the officer, bending his knee for a moment, "never
was servant more respectful than I am before your majesty; only you
commanded me to tell the truth. Now I have begun to tell it, it must
come out, even if you command me to hold my tongue."

There was so much resolution expressed in the deep-sunk muscles of the
officer's countenance, that Louis XIV. had no occasion to tell him to
continue; he continued, therefore, whilst the king looked at him with a
curiosity mingled with admiration.

"Sire, I have, as I have said, now served the house of France
thirty-five years; few people have worn out so many swords in that
service as I have, and the swords I speak of were good swords, too,
sire. I was a boy, ignorant of everything except courage, when the king
your father guessed that there was a man in me. I was a man, sire, when
the Cardinal de Richelieu, who was a judge of manhood, discovered an
enemy in me. Sire, the history of that enmity between the ant and the
lion may be read from the first to the last line, in the secret archives
of your family. If ever you feel an inclination to know it, do so, sire;
the history is worth the trouble--it is I who tell you so. You will
there read that the lion, fatigued, harassed, out of breath, at length
cried for quarter, and the justice must be rendered him to say that
he gave as much as he required. Oh! those were glorious times, sire,
strewed over with battles like one of Tasso's or Ariosto's epics. T