become
his own master, had been always soaring in its gaze, observed an
insulting device representing Holland arresting the progress of the sun,
with this inscription: "_In conspectu meo stetit sol._"

"'In my presence the sun stands still,'" exclaimed the king furiously.
"Ah! you will hardly deny it now, I suppose."

"And the sun," said D'Artagnan, "is this," as he pointed to the panels
of the cabinet, where the sun was brilliantly represented in every
direction with this motto, "_Nec pluribus impar._"

Louis' anger, increased by the bitterness of his own personal
sufferings, hardly required this additional circumstance to foment it.
Every one saw, from the kindling passion in the king's eyes, that an
explosion was most imminent. A look from Colbert kept back the storm
from bursting forth. The ambassador ventured to frame excuses by saying
that the vanity of nations was a matter of little consequence; that
Holland was proud that, with such limited resources, she had maintained
her rank as a great nation, even against powerful monarchs, and that if
a little smoke had intoxicated his country men, the king would be
kindly disposed, and would excuse this intoxication. The king seemed as
if he would be glad of some one's advice; he looked at Colbert, who
remained impassible; then at D'Artagnan, who simply shrugged his
shoulders, a movement which was like the opening of the flood-gates,
whereby the king's anger, which he had restrained for so long a period,
now burst forth. As no one knew what direction his anger might take, all
preserved a dead silence. The second ambassador took advantage of it to
begin his excuses also. While he was speaking, and while the king, who
had again gradually returned to his own personal reflections, listened
to the voice, full of nervous anxiety, with the air of an absent man
listening to the murmuring of a cascade, D'Artagnan, on whose left hand
Saint-Aignan was standing, approached the latter, and, in a voice which
was loud enough to reach the king's ears, said: "Have you heard the
news?"

"What news?" said Saint-Aignan.

"About La Valliere?"

The king started, and involuntarily advanced a step nearer to them.

"What has happened to La Valliere?" inquired Saint-Aignan, in a tone
which can very easily be imagined.

"Ah, poor girl! she is going to take the veil."

"The veil!" exclaimed Saint-Aignan.

"The veil!" cried the king, in the midst of the ambassador's discourse;
but then,