"Yes, sire," sighed De Conti. "We cannot sleep for thinking of the laurels of our kinsman of Savoy, and we humbly crave your royal permission to join the imperial crusade against the Turks."
Louis frowned, but quickly recovered himself. "Of course—of course," replied he, condescendingly; "if the laurels of the little prince disturb your slumbers, you have my full consent to go after him. 'Twere a pity to deny you so small a boon."
And, without giving opportunity to the two princes to thank him, the king turned around and addressed Marshal Crequi:
"Who knows," said he, raising his voice, "whether these two silly boys have not chosen the wiser part? Though they may never earn any laurels, they may fight away some of their folly—which loss would be to them great gain."
"Sire, it is perfectly natural for youth to desire glory," returned the old marshal. "I think that thirst for fame is honorable to a young nobleman, and for this reason I have consented that my son, the Marquis do Blanchefort, should join the imperial crusade, provided he obtains your majesty's consent. I venture to hope that your majesty will not refuse to him what you have conceded to the Princes de Conti."
Louis looked with amazement at the smiling countenance of the old marshal, but he answered as before:
"I certainly will not do less for your soil than for the De Contis.
He has my consent to accompany them on their journey after glory."
The young Marquis de Blanchefort, who was near at hand, would have expressed his gratitude for the royal permission to leave France, but the king turned coldly away, and darted a peremptory glance at Louvois.
The minister understood, and came forward at once.
De Blanchefort, meanwhile, hurried off to join the De Contis, who, surrounded by a group of young noblemen, were engaged in a low, but earnest conversation.