“Then you are on guard every day?”
“And every night. Yes, sire.”
“Monsieur, I cannot allow that—I will have you rest.”
“That is very kind, sire; but I will not.”
“What do you say?” said the king, who did not at first comprehend the full meaning of this reply.
“I say, sire, that I will not expose myself to the chance of a fault. If the devil had a trick to play on me, you understand, sire, as he knows the man with whom he has to deal, he would chose the moment when I should not be there. My duty and the peace of my conscience before everything, sire.”
“But such duty will kill you, monsieur.”
“Eh! sire, I have performed it for thirty years, and in all France and Navarre there is not a man in better health than I am. Moreover, I entreat you, sire, not to trouble yourself about me. That would appear very strange to me, seeing that I am not accustomed to it.”
The king cut short the conversation by a fresh question. “Shall you be here, then, to-morrow morning?”
“As at present? yes, sire.”