r. He sprang up eagerly, thinking that the
ecclesiastic might have arrived. It was, however, only his personal
attendant, to say that Louvois would crave an interview. Close at his
heels came the minister himself, high-nosed and heavy-chinned.
Two leather bags were dangling from his hand.

"Sire," said he, when Bontems had retired, "I trust that I do not
intrude upon you."

"No, no, Louvois. My thoughts were in truth beginning to be very
indifferent company, and I am glad to be rid of them."

"Your Majesty's thoughts can never, I am sure, be anything but
pleasant," said the courtier. "But I have brought you here something
which I trust may make them even more so."

"Ah! What is that?"

"When so many of our young nobles went into Germany and Hungary, you
were pleased in your wisdom to say that you would like well to see what
reports they sent home to their friends; also what news was sent out
from the court to them."

"Yes."

"I have them here--all that the courier has brought in, and all that are
gathered to go out, each in its own bag. The wax has been softened in
spirit, the fastenings have been steamed, and they are now open."

The king took out a handful of the letters and glanced at the addresses.

"I should indeed like to read the hearts of these people," said he.
"Thus only can I tell the true thoughts of those who bow and simper
before my face. I suppose," with a sudden flash of suspicion from his
eyes, "that you have not yourself looked into these?"

"Oh, sire, I had rather die!"

"You swear it?"

"As I hope for salvation!"

"Hum! There is one among these which I see is from your own son."

Louvois changed colour, and stammered as he looked at the envelope.
"Your Majesty will find that he is as loyal out of your presence as in
it, else he is no son of mine," said he.

"Then we shall begin with his. Ha! it is but ten lines long. 'Dearest
Achille, how I long for you to come back! The court is as dull as a
cloister now that you are gone. My ridiculous father still struts about
like a turkey-cock, as if all his medals and crosses could cover the
fact that he is but a head lackey, with no more real power than I have.
He wheedles a good deal out of the king, but what he does with it I
cannot imagine, for little comes my way. I still owe those ten thousand
livres to the man in the Rue Orfevre. Unless I have some luck at
lansquenet, I shall have to come out soon and join you.' Hem! I