the enchanted
forest, each tree of which inclosed a demon. It is more than setting out
to conquer a world."

"But yet, sire, when you ask it--"

"I have already told you that I never asked," replied Louis with a
haughtiness that made the king of England turn pale.

And the latter, like a wounded man, made a retreating movement--"Pardon
me, my brother," replied he. "I have neither a mother nor a sister who
are suffering. My throne is hard and naked, but I am firmly seated on
my throne. Pardon me that expression, my brother; it was that of an
egotist. I will retract it, therefore, by a sacrifice,--I will go to
monsieur le cardinal. Wait for me, if you please--I will return."

Chapter X. The Arithmetic of M. de Mazarin.

Whilst the king was directing his course rapidly towards the wing of the
castle occupied by the cardinal, taking nobody with him but his _valet
de chambre_, the officer of musketeers came out, breathing like a man
who has for a long time been forced to hold his breath, from the little
cabinet of which we have already spoken, and which the king believed
to be quite solitary. This little cabinet had formerly been part of
the chamber, from which it was only separated by a thin partition. It
resulted that this partition, which was only for the eye, permitted the
ear the least indiscreet to hear every word spoken in the chamber.

There was no doubt, then, that this lieutenant of musketeers had heard
all that passed in his majesty's apartment.

Warned by the last words of the young king, he came out just in time to
salute him on his passage, and to follow him with his eyes till he had
disappeared in the corridor.

Then as soon as he had disappeared, he shook his head after a fashion
peculiarly his own, and in a voice which forty years' absence from
Gascony had not deprived of its Gascon accent, "A melancholy service,"
said he, "and a melancholy master!"

These words pronounced, the lieutenant resumed his place in his
_fauteuil_, stretched his legs and closed his eyes, like a man who
either sleeps or meditates.

During this short monologue and the _mise en scene_ that had accompanied
it, whilst the king, through the long corridors of the old castle,
proceeded to the apartment of M. de Mazarin, a scene of another sort was
being enacted in those apartments.

Mazarin was in bed, suffering a little from the gout. But as he was a
man of order, who utilized even pain, he forced his wakefulness to be