as willing to lend the giver the cross-bow of which he
made use himself.

"Kings give what they lend, sire," interposed a governess; and then
Louis presented it to him, wishing it was something more valuable; for
his pocket-money evidently did not permit him to indulge in such
expensive gifts as those he had received; but such as they were, he gave
them with his whole heart. The recipient of the gift kept it, and
regarded it as vastly more valuable than if it had been covered with
gold and diamonds from another.

September 7, 1651, was a memorable day in the annals of France, and if
it was not marked by the popular rejoicings which had greeted the birth
of the king, it was because the people were worn out by the war of the
Frondeurs. The grand master of ceremonies had notified the Parliament
that Louis XIV. would take the "seat of justice," the place of the
monarch in this body on solemn and important occasions, on that day, for
the purpose of declaring his majority, and assuming the government.
There was a great deal of simple fiction in the formalities, for his
majesty was only a boy of fourteen, with far less education than is
usually obtained by one of that age at the present time, and was
incapable of ruling over a great nation.

There was even some fiction in regard to his age, for though he had
entered his fourteenth year, he was hardly thirteen years old. If a boy
of that age were transferred from his place in school to the presidency
of the United States to-day, the cases would be parallel. The education
of the juvenile king had been neglected, perhaps intentionally, by
Mazarin for his cunning purposes, and though he had been instructed in
all the forms and ceremonials of the court, he was deficient in his
knowledge of the solid branches of learning, even for one in his sphere
at that age. But the government, so far as he was concerned, was all a
fiction. It was to be carried on in his name in the future as it had
been in the name of his mother, the queen-regent, before, though neither
of them was the actual ruler. Mazarin was more than "the power behind
the throne;" he was practically the throne itself.

At seven o'clock in the morning, six heralds, clothed in crimson velvet
covered with _fleurs de lis_, the royal emblem of France, mounted on
elegantly caparisoned horses, led the court to the palace where the
Parliament assembled. The king's trumpeters came next to the heralds,
and they were followed by th