The king continued to walk about, casting from time to time a side glance at the lieutenant. “He is the very image of his father,” continued the latter, in his secret soliloquy, “he is at once proud, avaricious, and timid. The devil take his master, say I.”
The king stopped. “Lieutenant,” said he.
“I am here, sire.”
“Why did you cry out this evening, down below in the salons—‘The king’s service! His majesty’s musketeers!’”
“Because you gave me the order, sire.”
“I?”
“Yourself.”
“Indeed, I did not say a word, monsieur.”
“Sire, an order is given by a sign, by a gesture, by a glance, as intelligibly, as freely, and as clearly as by word of mouth. A servant who has nothing but ears is not half a good servant.”
“Your eyes are very penetrating, then, monsieur.”