ad, then, Monsieur d'Artagnan, and that will come
to the same thing, since I should only take them to have them hanged."

D'Artagnan wiped the sweat which flowed from his brow.

"I have told you," pursued Louis XIV., "that I would one day be an
affectionate, generous, and constant master. You are now the only man of
former times worthy of my anger or my friendship. I will not spare you
either sentiment, according to your conduct. Could you serve a king,
Monsieur d'Artagnan, who should have a hundred kings, his equals, in
the kingdom? Could I, tell me, do with such weak instruments the great
things I meditate? Did you ever see an artist effect great works with
an unworthy tool? Far from us, monsieur, the old leaven of feudal abuse!
The Fronde, which threatened to ruin monarchy, has emancipated it. I
am master at home, Captain d'Artagnan, and I shall have servants who,
lacking, perhaps, your genius, will carry devotion and obedience to the
verge of heroism. Of what consequence, I ask you, of what consequence
is it that God has given no sense to arms and legs? It is to the head he
has given genius, and the head, you know, the rest obey. I am the head."

D'Artagnan started. Louis XIV. continued as if he had seen nothing,
although this emotion had not by any means escaped him. "Now, let us
conclude between us two the bargain I promised to make with you one day
when you found me in a very strange predicament at Blois. Do me justice,
monsieur, when you admit I do not make any one pay for the tears of
shame that I then shed. Look around you; lofty heads have bowed. Bow
yours, or choose such exile as will suit you. Perhaps, when reflecting
upon it, you will find your king has a generous heart, who reckons
sufficiently upon your loyalty to allow you to leave him dissatisfied,
when you possess a great state secret. You are a brave man; I know you
to be so. Why have you judged me prematurely? Judge me from this day
forward, D'Artagnan, and be as severe as you please."

D'Artagnan remained bewildered, mute, undecided for the first time in
his life. At last he had found an adversary worthy of him. This was no
longer trick, it was calculation; no longer violence, but strength; no
longer passion, but will; no longer boasting, but council. This young
man who had brought down a Fouquet, and could do without a D'Artagnan,
deranged the somewhat headstrong calculations of the musketeer.

"Come, let us see what stops you?" said the king,