The lieutenant, standing motionless, hat in hand, watched him making these evolutions, and, whilst looking at him, grumbled to himself, biting his mustache: "He has not half a crown worth of resolution! Parole d'honneur! I would lay a wager he does not speak at all!" The king continued to walk about, casting from time to time a side glance at the lieutenant.

"He is the very image of his father," continued the latter, in his secret soliloquy, "he is at once proud, avaricious, and timid.

The devil take his master, say I." The king stopped.

"Lieutenant," said he.
"I am here, sire." "Why did you cry out this evening, down below in the salons--'The king's service! His majesty's musketeers!'" "Because you gave me the order, sire." "I ?" "Yourself." "Indeed, I did not say a word, monsieur." "Sire, an order is given by a sign, by a gesture, by a glance, as intelligibly, as freely, and as clearly as by word of mouth.

A servant who has nothing but ears is not half a good servant." "Your eyes are very penetrating, then, monsieur." "How is that, sire ?" "Because they see what is not." "My eyes are good, though, sire, although they have served their master long and much: when they have anything to see, they seldom miss the opportunity.