Chicot looked with interest at the young man, so beautiful, so brave, so rich, and yet speaking in this desponding tone.
"Sire," continued the comte, "everything that has happened to me for some time has strengthened my resolution. I wish to throw myself into the arms of God, who is the sovereign consoler of the afflicted, as he is of the happy. Deign then, sire, to facilitate my entrance into a religious life, for my heart is sad unto death."
The king was moved at this doleful request.
"Ah! I understand," said he; "you wish to become a monk, but you fear the probation."
"I do not fear the austerities, sire, but the time they leave one in indecision. It is not to soften my life, nor to spare my body any physical suffering, or my mind any moral privation, but it is to pass at once from this world to the grating which separates me from it, and which one generally attains so slowly."
"Poor boy!" said the king. "I think he will make a good preacher; will he not, Chicot?"
Chicot did not reply. Du Bouchage continued:
"You see, sire, that it is with my own family that the struggle will take place, and with my relations that I shall meet with the greatest opposition. My brother, the cardinal, at once so good and so worldly, will find a thousand reasons to persuade me against it. At Rome your majesty is all-powerful; you have asked me what I wish for, and promised to grant it; my wish is this, obtain from Rome an authority that my novitiate be dispensed with."
The king rose smiling, and taking the comte's hand, said—
"I will do what you ask, my son. You wish to serve God, and you are right; he is a better master than I am. You have my promise, dear comte."