DUKE DE BELLEGARDE.
He saves France, sire.
THE KING.
Does he? He damns my soul!
With one arm fights the heathen, with the other
He signs a compact with the Huguenots.
[Whispering to Duke de Bellegarde.
DUKE DE BELLEGARDE.
Treats he his own
More kindly? Did he spare Saint Preuil?
THE KING.
He has
A bitter tenderness, they say, for those
He loves. He must love me tremendously!
[Abruptly, after a pause, folding his arms.