“Oh! whatever you wish, sir.”
“Then, sire, one of my officers has committed so grave a fault against discipline, that I thought your majesty ought to be sole judge of the offense.”
“Oh, M. de Suffren, I had hoped your first request would have been a favor, and not a punishment.”
“Your majesty, as I have had the honor to say, shall judge what ought to be done. In the last battle the officer of whom I speak was on board La Sévère.”
“Oh, the ship that struck her flag!” cried the king, frowning.
“Yes, sire. The captain of La Sévère had indeed struck his flag, and already Sir Hugh, the English admiral, had despatched a boat to take possession of his prize, when the lieutenant in command of the guns of the middle deck, perceiving that the firing above had ceased, and having received orders to stop his own fire, went on deck, saw the flag lowered, and the captain ready to surrender. At this sight, sir, all his French blood revolted, he took the flag which lay there, and, seizing a hammer, ordered the men to recommence the fire, while he nailed it to the mast. It was by this action, sire, that La Sévère was preserved to your majesty.”
“A splendid action!” cried the king and queen simultaneously.
“Yes, sire—yes, madame, but a grave fault against discipline. The order had been given by the captain, and the lieutenant ought to have obeyed. I, however, ask for the pardon of the officer, and the more so as he is my own nephew.”
“Your nephew!” cried the king; “and you have never mentioned him!”
“Not to you, sire; but I made my report to the ministers, begging them to say nothing about it until I had obtained his pardon from your majesty.”