years of age without ever having had a louis in my purse, and without
ever having met with a protector on my way,--I who have protected so
many people! So I change my formula, sire; and when any one says to me
'Later,' I reply '_Now_.' It is rest that I solicit, sire. That may be
easily granted me. That will cost nobody anything."

"I did not look for this language, monsieur, particularly from a man
who has always lived among the great. You forget you are speaking to the
king, to a gentleman who is, I suppose, as of good a house as yourself;
and when I say later, I mean a certainty."

"I do not at all doubt it, sire; but this is the end of the terrible
truth I had to tell you. If I were to see upon that table a _marshal's_
stick, the sword of constable, the crown of Poland, instead of later, I
swear to you, sire, that I should still say _Now!_ Oh, excuse me, sire!
I am from the country of your grandfather, Henry IV. I do not speak
often: but when I do speak, I speak all."

"The future of my reign has little temptation for you, monsieur, it
appears," said Louis, haughtily.

"Forgetfulness, forgetfulness everywhere!" cried the officer, with a
noble air; "the master has forgotten the servant, so the servant is
reduced to forget his master. I live in unfortunate times, sire. I see
youth full of discouragement and fear, I see it timid and despoiled,
when it ought to be rich and powerful. I yesterday evening, for example,
open the door to a king of England, whose father, humble as I am, I
was near saving, if God had not been against me--God, who inspired His
elect, Cromwell! I open, I said, the door, that is to say, the palace of
one brother to another brother, and I see--stop, sire, that is a load
on my heart!--I see the minister of that king drive away the proscribed
prince, and humiliate his master by condemning to want another king, his
equal. Then I see my prince, who is young, handsome and brave, who
has courage in his heart and lightening in his eye,--I see him tremble
before a priest, who laughs at him behind the curtain of his alcove,
where he digests all the gold of France, which he afterwards stuffs
into secret coffers. Yes--I understand your looks, sire. I am bold to
madness; but what is to be said? I am an old man, and I tell you here,
sire, to you, my king, things which I would cram down the throat of any
one who should dare to pronounce them before me. You have commanded me,
to pour out the bottom of my he