Je m'ennuie tellement, Marcel!" he sighed.
"Ough! But, no, my friend, I do not doubt you would be as dull as
any of them at present. A man in love is the weariest and most
futile thing in all this weary, futile world. What shall I do with
your body what time your soul is at Lavedan? I doubt me you are in
haste to get you there. So go, Marcel. Get you wed, and live out
your amorous intoxication; marriage is the best antidote. When that
is done, return to me."
"That will be never, Sire," I answered slyly.
"Say you so, Master Cupid Bardelys?" And he combed his beard
reflectively. "Be not too sure. There have been other passions -
aye, as great as yours - yet have they staled. But you waste my
time. Go, Marcel; you are excused your duties by me for as long as
your own affairs shall hold you elsewhere - for as long as you
please. We are here upon a gloomy business - as you know. There
are my cousin Montmorency and the others to be dealt with, and we
are holding no levees, countenancing no revels. But come to me
when you will, and I will see you. Adieu!"
I murmured my thanks, and very deep and sincere were they. Then,
having kissed his hand, I left him.
Louis XIII is a man who lacks not maligners. Of how history may
come to speak of him it is not mine to hazard. But this I can say,
that I, at least, did never find him other than a just and kindly
master, an upright gentleman, capricious at times and wilful, as
must inevitably be the case with such spoilt children of fortune as
are princes, but of lofty ideals and high principles.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188