Now, he was leaning, as we have said, against the carved
door-frame when the melancholy, weary eyes of the king, by
chance, met his.

It was not the first time, as it appeared, that the eyes of
the officer had met those eyes, and he was perfectly
acquainted with the expression of them; for, as soon as he
had cast his own look upon the countenance of Louis XIV.,
and had read by it what was passing in his heart -- that is
to say, all the ennui that oppressed him -- all the timid
desire to go out which agitated him, -- he perceived he must
render the king a service without his commanding it, --
almost in spite of himself. Boldly, therefore, as if he had
given the word of command to cavalry in battle, "On the
king's service!" cried he, in a clear, sonorous voice.

At these words, which produced the effect of a peal of
thunder, prevailing over the orchestra, the singing and the
buzz of the promenaders, the cardinal and the queen-mother
looked at each other with surprise.

Louis XIV., pale, but resolved, supported as he was by that
intuition of his own thought which he had found in the mind
of the officer of musketeers, and which he had just
manifested by the order given, arose from his chair, and
took a step towards the door.

"Are you going, my son?" said the queen, whilst Mazarin
satisfied himself with interrogating by a look which might