“But,” interrupted Athos, “that does not preclude your majesty from allowing M. de Bragelonne to marry Mademoiselle de la Valliere. The sacrifice is worthy of so great a monarch; it is fully merited by M. de Bragelonne, who has already rendered great service to your majesty, and who may well be regarded as a brave and worthy man. Your majesty, therefore, in renouncing the affection you entertain, offers a proof at once of generosity, gratitude, and good policy.”
“Mademoiselle de la Valliere does not love M. de Bragelonne,” said the king, hoarsely.
“Does your majesty know that to be the case?” remarked Athos, with a searching look.
“I do know it.”
“Since a very short time, then; for doubtless, had your majesty known it when I first preferred my request, you would have taken the trouble to inform me of it.”
“Since a very short time, it is true, monsieur.”
Athos remained silent for a moment, and then resumed: “In that case, I do not understand why your majesty should have sent M. de Bragelonne to London. That exile, and most properly so, too, is a matter of astonishment to every one who regards your majesty’s honor with sincere affection.”
“Who presumes to impugn my honor, Monsieur de la Fere?”
“The king’s honor, sire, is made up of the honor of his whole nobility. Whenever the king offends one of his gentlemen, that is, whenever he deprives him of the smallest particle of his honor, it is from him, from the king himself, that that portion of honor is stolen.”
“Monsieur de la Fere!” said the king, haughtily.