The Count gazed up in the King's face, still kneeling; and every head was bent forward, every ear listened eagerly. A momentary pause followed, as if there was a great struggle within him; and then he answered. "Sire, I will not ask my life of your Majesty;--not from any false pride, for I feel and acknowledge that it is yours to give or to take,--but because my conduct, however much it might originate in mistake, must appear so ungrateful to you that you cannot, at this moment, feel I deserve your mercy. The only favour I will ask, then, is this: that should I be brought to a trial, which must end, as I know, inevitably in my fall, you will read every word of my deposition, and I therein promise to give your Majesty a full and true account, without the falsification of a single word, of all that has taken place in this last lamentable business."
Louvois took a half step forward as if to speak, and not a little anxiety was upon his countenance. But, contrary to the general impression of those present, all that the Count had said had pleased the King; though his latter words had not a little alarmed the minister, who knew that truths might be displayed which he was most anxious to conceal.
"Monsieur de Morseiul," replied the King, "I will promise what you ask, at all events. But what you have said has pleased me, for it shows that you understand my spirit towards my subjects, and that I can grant without being asked. Your life, Sir, is given to you. What punishment we shall inflict may, perhaps, depend upon the sentence of a judicial court or of our council."
"May it please your Majesty," said Louvois, stepping forward, "to hear me one moment. You have, perhaps, thought me inimical to Monsieur de Morseiul, but such, indeed, is not the case; and I would propose, that instead of subjecting him to any trial at all, you, at once, pronounce sentence of banishment upon him, which is all the mercy that he can expect. His estates, as ought to be the case, must be forfeited to the crown."
"And he driven forth," said the King, "to employ his military talents in the service of our enemies."
"Never, never, never, Sire!" exclaimed the Count, clasping his hands eagerly. "Never should my sword be drawn against my native land. I would rather beg my bread in misery, from door to door: I would rather live in want, and die in sorrow, than do so base an act!"
There was truth and zeal upon his countenance, and Louvois urged what he had proposed; but while he was addressing the Monarch, in a lower tone, one of the side doors of the hall opened, and a lady came partly in, speaking to some one behind her, as if she knew not that any one was in the hall. The moment that she perceived her mistake, Madame de Maintenon drew back; but the King advanced a step and besought her to come in.
"We want your presence much, Madam," he said with a smile, "for we cannot decide upon what is to be done with this young culprit. But you seem in haste, and who is this with you? I have somewhere seen his face before."
The King might well fail to recognise the countenance of Jerome Riquet, for it was at that moment actually cadaverous in appearance, from the various emotions that were going on in his heart.
"I was at that moment seeking your Majesty," said Madame de Maintenon, advancing with her usual calm grace, "and was passing this way to your cabinet, to crave an audience ere you went out. But I thought the ceremony of the day was over."