scarcely entered his chamber, when the usher pronounced the "Pass on, gentlemen!" which signified that his Majesty wished to be alone. On one of the days of public dinners, (grand couvert) Louis XIV. would probably not have recoiled from the annoyance of eating in public; but these never took place during holy week, and, alone in his chamber, he had scarcely touched the three dishes of vegetables, which were brought him as his whole dinner the Friday and Saturday before Easter. began to be rife, that he was going to remain shut up until evening. The people who asserted this, knew nothing more of the matter in reality, that those to whom they mysteriously went to communicate it. But it was with this, as with almost all rumors, -namely, one person had said perhaps, a second, probably, and a third, certainly.

The rumor

The

They came, however, very near having guessed rightly. The hour was about to strike, and the guards had not come. hour struck,-nothing yet. The newsmongers triumphed.—It is so delightful to see that happen which one has predicted, even if it be a misfortune!

The priests were at the altar; the queen in her gallery; Bossuet, in that of his pupil. The poor dauphin did not seem to understand much in regard to all this commotion, and his preceptor seemed not at all inclined to explain to him its cause.

That which was considered the most astonishing was not that the king did not come, but that he had not sent word. In the smallest as in the greatest things, he was never seen to be undecided; he never made his appearance where he was not expected; and never failed to come where he was expected. Thus every second, every minute added to the general anxiety, and although there was some little constraint for the sake of the queen and the dauphin, it was enough to cast one glance over the assemblage to perceive all the signs of the most intense expectation.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE STRUGGLES OF BOURDALOUE, AND THE VACILLATION OF THE KING.

LET us quit the chapel for a moment, and see what was passing elsewhere.

In the sacristy a man was walking up and down. From time to time he approached the door, listened a moment, and then recommenced his walk. He had an extremely agitated air. His breathing was rapid and violent; his white surplice was throbbing above his heart. But as the hour advanced, and the dull murmurs of the chapel continued to prove that the king was not there, a ray of joy seemed to pierce through the sombre glance of his eye.

In the cabinet of the king a man was also walking; it was the king himself. He was not alone. If it had not been for that, the question would have been decided long before, and he would have sent orders to the chapel that he was not to be waited for. It had only depended upon himself to send these orders in the morning; and nevertheless, although quite decided, he had been in no haste to do it. Besides, having too much the feeling of his own independence to fear that his will might appear less firm, because he delayed to express it, he had not felt at his ease; he had recoiled. Without distinctly recalling the words of Bossuet, for he had scarcely listened to him, he thought of them in spite of himself; and although this was not sufficient to

make him change his mind, it was enough to deprive him of a little of his habitual assurance,—of that faith in himself and his own actions which ordinarily did not permit him even to suspect that he deceived himself, or did wrong. This novel disposition of mind had not escaped Bossuet in his last interview with the king, and on this account, encouraged to attempt a last effort, he had sent the Duke of Montausier to him.

But why not go himself? It was now neither indolence nor fear. Difficult as had been the struggle the day before, to be frank and bold with the king, it was now just as easy,—the battle once commenced,-to remain frank, and to become bolder and bolder. But he feared that his influence upon the king might already be weakened by the continued friction of these interviews, following one another so closely, and the duke had willingly accepted the mission, making him however promise to intervene anew, if circumstances should require it.

We will not attempt to describe his uneasiness, his anguish. His visit of the day before to Mme. de Montespan had made almost as much noise as the departure of the latter; in the opinion of the court, the two events were much more closely connected than was really the case. To the ordinary respect which all felt for his merit and rank, was now accordingly added all the consideration which courtiers cannot fail to have for whoever is powerful, or seems to be so. To have caused the exile of Mme. de Montespan! If he had been a nobody, this alone would have made him a great personage. From the corner of his gallery, he saw all eyes turned upon him; all the curiosity excited by the events of the day, and the absence of the king, was transferred to him. He affected to talk with the dauphin; but some seconds after the hour had struck, the movement of heads towards his gallery became so universal and distinct, that he could not avoid raising his eyes. He encountered those of the queen.

She looked at him with a supplicating air, as if to recall to him his promises of the morning. It was too much; he went out.

The Duke de Montausier had been very near arriving too late. He had found the king coming out of his cabinet to tell his suite without him.

to go

"You are not at chapel ?" the king asked, upon seeing him. "I came from there, Sire. We only await your Majesty." The king was silent, and re-entered his cabinet.

We have already seen what an influence the old duke exercised over Louis XIV. Bossuet did this also, doubtless, but by his arguments; it was enough for Montausier to make his appearance.

He followed the king, and waited. There was a long silence. "But it is an actual persecution!" cried the king at length. "Do they come to look for you, if you happen to choose to stay away from mass ?_"

"I never choose to stay away, Sire, except when I am ill. Then your Majesty knows that there are certain points in which a king is less free than the lowest of his subjects—"

"Ah!" said the king, "there has been pains enough taken to remind me of it for the last two days. I thought it was finished. It seems to me I have done enough—"

"You have done nothing, if you do not finish. A Good Friday,-two days before Easter! I do not believe that a king of France has ever failed-"

"No king of France has ever found himself in my present position."

"So much the more reason for you to seek from God the which you do not find among men. The chapel-"

peace

"What should I do there? My mind would be elsewhere.

The service would only fatigue me; the sermon-"

He stopped. "Well! the sermon ?" said the inexorable Mon

tausier.

"The sermon? Don't speak to me of it again. I have been very indulgent to allow so much to be said to me of it" "Listen, Sire. It is very easy not to speak to you of it any more; but it is no longer in any one's power to prevent all the court, all France from talking of it. Come and hear it, and

soon nothing more will be said of it; stay here, and it will soon be the talk of all Europe. He was afraid,' they will say "

The king made a movement.

"Yes, afraid," resumed the duke; "will it be a falsehood? But what am I saying to you! Chase away these miserable considerations of pride. Come, because it is your duty; come, because God and the world have an equal right to exact it. Come. Ah! Sire, will you be deaf to the voice of an old servant? It is the first favor he has ever asked from you; it will be the last, please God. But come,-the hour is already past. In the name of your salvation, your glory, come-".

And he was very near taking the king by the arm. That would have been going too far. The king followed him, fascinated; slowly, it is true, and with a still visible reluctance.

"Come;" he said, once more; and he opened the door.-Bossuet was the other side of it.

"You have been there!" said the king, stupefied.

"No, sire, I have just come. They were just about to an nounce me."

"Let his Majesty pass!-Aside!" cried the duke. And the king passed out in silence.