Three times M. Deslon repeated the same thing, and rather impatiently the last time.
“Sire,” said he, “do you not hear me?”
“What do you wish, monsieur?” said the King, as if starting from a reverie.
“I ask your commands for M. de Bouillé, sire!”
“I have no more commands to give, monsieur—I am a prisoner.”
“But, at least, sir—”
“That he does what he can for me.”
M. Deslon retired, without being able to obtain another answer.
In fact, the King was indeed a prisoner.