e heart of Louis XIV., and
the cardinal, on turning round at the simple noise of the approaching
footsteps of his majesty, saw the immediate effect of them upon the
countenance of his pupil, an effect betrayed to the keen eyes of his
eminence by a slight increase of color. But what was the ventilation of
such a secret to him whose craft had for twenty years deceived all the
diplomatists of Europe?

From the moment the young king heard these last words, he appeared as if
he had received a poisoned arrow in his heart. He could not remain quiet
in a place, but cast around an uncertain, dead, and aimless look over
the assembly. He with his eyes interrogated his mother more than
twenty times: but she, given up to the pleasure of conversing with her
sister-in-law, and likewise constrained by the glance of Mazarin, did
not appear to comprehend any of the supplications conveyed by the looks
of her son.

From this moment, music, lights, flowers, beauties, all became odious
and insipid to Louis XIV. After he had a hundred times bitten his lips,
stretched his legs and his arms like a well-brought-up child, who,
without daring to gape, exhausts all the modes of evincing his
weariness--after having uselessly again implored his mother and the
minister, he turned a despairing look towards the door, that is to say,
towards liberty.

At this door, in the embrasure of which he was leaning, he saw, standing
out strongly, a figure with a brown and lofty countenance, an aquiline
nose, a stern but brilliant eye, gray and long hair, a black mustache,
the true type of military beauty, whose gorget, more sparkling than a
mirror, broke all the reflected lights which concentrated upon it, and
sent them back as lightning. This officer wore his gray hat with its
long red plumes upon his head, a proof that he was called there by his
duty, and not by his pleasure. If he had been brought thither by his
pleasure--if he had been a courtier instead of a soldier, as pleasure
must always be paid for at the same price--he would have held his hat in
his hand.

That which proved still better that this officer was upon duty, and was
accomplishing a task to which he was accustomed, was, that he watched,
with folded arms, remarkable indifference, and supreme apathy, the joys
and _ennuis_ of this _fete_. Above all, he appeared, like a philosopher,
and all old soldiers are philosophers,--he appeared above all to
comprehend the _ennuis_ infinitely better than