[Chapter VIII]
THE SEER
A few minutes later, the door opened to admit the imposing figure of the octogenarian, Martin. The king graciously motioned him to advance. He approached diffidently, a pale ray from the setting sun shining upon his face and lighting up a flaming mark across his breast. This was the red flannel scapula of the Heart of Jesus stamped with the words: "I shall reign."
"Come forward, my friend. Ask what you wish. We have seen you so often opposite the palace that we decided to attend to your request. Take a seat and do not be timid."
The monarch pointed to a tabouret, but the peasant did not heed the invitation. Glancing around the apartment, he suddenly noticed the voluptuous Pompeian lamp and then turned indignantly, almost threateningly, upon the king who, somewhat disconcerted—though he scarcely knew why—repeated:
"Ask what you wish."
"I ask for nothing," said the old man with emphasis. "I come not to implore from the king either honors or riches. I am sent by God to speak to your Royal Highness certain truths, to remind you of the past and to reveal to you the future. I come not of myself. I am the obscurest laborer in France, by name Martin. I live in a village of but twelve cottages. I am a Christian. I believe in our holy religion and our holy monarchy. When evil men rebelled against God and His earthly agent, my sword remained sheathed because to shed blood is forbidden. But I placed on my breast this Heart, that men might know that with my life I would maintain my faith."
"Good man, be seated," insisted the monarch.
"I have too great a reverence for your person to remain otherwise than standing. I should be kneeling, for so should I choose to honor the uncle and heir of my king."
"What do you mean? Am I not the king, himself?" And Louis XVIII smiled indulgently.