Louis XIV. turned around, astonished that any one should dare to address him. But the queen pressed the child’s hand.
“Yes, sir.” he said.
“Does your majesty remember, when playing in the park of Fontainebleau, or in the palace courts at Versailles, ever to have seen the sky grow suddenly dark and heard the sound of thunder?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Well, then, this noise of thunder, however much your majesty may have wished to continue playing, has said, ‘go in, sire. You must do so.’”
“Certainly, sir; but they tell me that the noise of thunder is the voice of God.”
“Well then, sire,” continued D’Artagnan, “listen to the noise of the people; you will perceive that it resembles that of thunder.”
In truth at that moment a terrible murmur was wafted to them by the night breeze; then all at once it ceased.
“Hold, sire,” said D’Artagnan, “they have just told the people that you are asleep; you see, you still are king.”
The queen looked with surprise at this strange man, whose brilliant courage made him the equal of the bravest, and who was, by his fine and quick intelligence, the equal of the most astute.