straightened themselves up and brought their halberds to attention,
while the young officer, who had been looking wistfully out of the
window at some courtiers who were laughing and chatting on the terraces,
turned sharply upon his heel, and strode over to the white and gold door
of the royal bedroom.

He had hardly taken his stand there before the handle was very gently
turned from within, the door revolved noiselessly upon its hinges, and a
man slid silently through the aperture, closing it again behind him.

"Hush!" said he, with his finger to his thin, precise lips, while his
whole clean-shaven face and high-arched brows were an entreaty and a
warning. "The king still sleeps."

The words were whispered from one to another among the group who had
assembled outside the door. The speaker, who was Monsieur Bontems, head
_valet de Chambre_, gave a sign to the officer of the guard, and led him
into the window alcove from which he had lately come.

"Good-morning, Captain de Catinat," said he, with a mixture of
familiarity and respect in his manner.

"Good-morning, Bontems. How has the king slept?"

"Admirably."

"But it is his time."

"Hardly."