Louis surveyed him with scorn. "I cannot grant your request," said he. "You are too sickly to enter my service."
He then rose from his chair and turned his back. This of course signified that the audience was at an end; but, to his unspeakable astonishment, he felt the touch of a hand upon his arm, and, turning round, beheld Eugene!
"Is that all your majesty has to say to me?" said the prince.
"That is all," cried Louis, imperiously. "The audience is at an end- -begone!"
"Not yet," replied Eugene, "not yet."
Madame de Maintenon uttered a cry of horror, and her tapestry fell from her hands.
"Do you know that you are a traitor?" exclaimed the king.
"No, sire. I am but a man who, driven to despair, can no longer withhold the cry of a heart wrung by every species of contumely and injustice. Were I tamely to submit to all that you have done to wound me, I were a hound unfit to bear the name of nobleman. By the memory of Cardinal Mazarin, your benefactor, nay, more, the spouse of your mother, I claim the right to remonstrate with your majesty, and to ask you to reverse your decision."
"You have summoned to your aid a name which I have ever cherished and honored," replied Louis. "For his sake I grant you fifteen minutes' audience. Be quick, then, and say what you will at once."
"Then, sire, may I ask if you remember the solemn promise you made to the cardinal on his death-bed?"