me that you are right,--satisfied if I prove
to you that you are wrong. Nay, sire, you can but listen to me. I am
old now, and I am attached to everything that is really great and really
powerful in your kingdom. I am of those who have shed their blood for
your father and for yourself, without ever having asked a single favor
either from yourself or from your father. I have never inflicted the
slightest wrong or injury on any one in this world, and even kings are
still my debtors. You can but listen to me, I repeat. I have come to ask
you for an account of the honor of one of your servants whom you have
deceived by a falsehood, or betrayed by want of heart of judgment. I
know that these words irritate your majesty, but the facts themselves
are killing us. I know that you are endeavoring to find some
means whereby to chastise me for my frankness; but I know also the
chastisement I will implore God to inflict upon you when I relate to Him
your perjury and my son's unhappiness."

The king during these remarks was walking hurriedly to and fro, his hand
thrust into the breast of his coat, his head haughtily raised, his eyes
blazing with wrath. "Monsieur," he cried, suddenly, "if I acted towards
you as a king, you would be already punished; but I am only a man, and
I have the right to love in this world every one who loves me,--a
happiness which is so rarely found."

"You cannot pretend to such a right as a man any more than as a king,
sire; or if you intend to exercise that right in a loyal manner, you
should have told M. de Bragelonne so, and not have exiled him."

"It is too great a condescension, monsieur, to discuss these things with
you," interrupted Louis XIV., with that majesty of air and manner he
alone seemed able to give his look and his voice.

"I was hoping that you would reply to me," said the comte.

"You shall know my reply, monsieur."

"You already know my thoughts on the subject," was the Comte de la
Fere's answer.

"You have forgotten you are speaking to the king, monsieur. It is a
crime."

"You have forgotten you are destroying the lives of two men, sire. It is
a mortal sin."

"Leave the room!"

"Not until I have said this: 'Son of Louis XIII., you begin your reign
badly, for you begin it by abduction and disloyalty! My race--myself
too--are now freed from all that affection and respect towards you,
which I made my son swear to observe in the vaults of Saint-Denis, in
the presence of the reli