"Conjecture! What may that mean, monsieur?"
"Very frequently, sire, conjecture with regard to a particular subject implies a want of frankness on the part of the king—"
"Monsieur!"
"And a want of confidence on the part of the subject," pursued Athos, intrepidly.
"You are forgetting yourself," said the king, hurried away by his anger in spite of his control over himself.
"Sire, I am obliged to seek elsewhere for what I thought I should find in your majesty. Instead of obtaining a reply from you, I am compelled to make one for myself."
The king rose. "Monsieur le Comte," he said, "I have now given you all the time I had at my disposal." This was a dismissal.
"Sire," replied the comte, "I have not yet had time to tell your majesty what I came with the express object of saying, and I so rarely see your majesty that I ought to avail myself of the opportunity."
"Just now you spoke of conjectures; you are now becoming offensive, monsieur."
"Oh, sire! offend your majesty! I? Never! All my life through have I maintained that kings are above all other men, not only from their rank and power, but from their nobleness of heart and their true dignity of mind. I never can bring myself to believe that my sovereign, he who passed his word to me, did so with a mental reservation."