he went into the king's apartment.

Chapter XII. The King and the Lieutenant.

As soon as the king saw the officer enter, he dismissed his _valet de
chambre_ and his gentleman.

"Who is on duty to-morrow, monsieur?" asked he.

The lieutenant bowed his head with military politeness, and replied, "I
am, sire."

"What! still you?"

"Always I, sire."

"How can that be, monsieur?"

"Sire, when traveling, the musketeers supply all the posts of your
majesty's household; that is to say, yours, her majesty the queen's, and
monsieur le cardinal's, the latter of whom borrows of the king the best
part, or rather the numerous part, of the royal guard."

"But in the interims?"

"There are no interims, sire, but for twenty or thirty men who rest out
of a hundred and twenty. At the Louvre it is very different, and if I
were at the Louvre I should rely upon my brigadier; but, when traveling,
sire, no one knows what may happen, and I prefer doing my duty myself."

"Then you are on guard every day?"

"And every night. Yes, sire."

"Monsieur, I cannot allow that--I will have you rest."

"That is very kind, sire; but I will not."

"What do you say?" said the king, who did not at first comprehend the
full meaning of this reply.

"I say, sire, that I will not expose myself to the chance of a fault. If
the devil had a trick to play on me, you understand, sire, as he knows
the man with whom he has to deal, he would chose the moment when I
should not be there. My duty and the peace of my conscience before
everything, sire."

"But such duty will kill you, monsieur."

"Eh! sire, I have performed it for thirty years, and in all France
and Navarre there is not a man in better health than I am. Moreover, I
entreat you, sire, not to trouble yourself about me. That would appear
very strange to me, seeing that I am not accustomed to it."

The king cut short the conversation by a fresh question. "Shall you be
here, then, to-morrow morning?"

"As at present? yes, sire."

The king walked several times up and down his chamber; it was very plain
that he burned with a desire to speak, but that he was restrained by
some fear or other. The lieutenant, standing motionless, hat in hand,
watched him making these evolutions, and, whilst looking at him,
grumbled to himself, biting his mustache:

"He has not half a crown worth of resolution! _Parole d'honneur!_ I
would lay a wager he does not speak at all!"

The king continued to wa