thirty-five years; my poor shoulders are tired; I feel that I must give
place to the young. I don't belong to this age; I have still one foot in
the old one; it results that everything is strange in my eyes, everything
astonishes and bewilders me. In short, I have the honor to ask your
majesty for my discharge."

"Monsieur," said the king, looking at the officer, who wore his uniform
with an ease that would have caused envy in a young man, "you are
stronger and more vigorous than I am."

"Oh!" replied the officer, with an air of false modesty, "your majesty
says so because I still have a good eye and a tolerably firm foot -
because I can still ride a horse, and my mustache is black; but, sire,
vanity of vanities all that - illusions all that - appearance, smoke,
sire! I have still a youthful air, it is true, but I feel old, and
within six months I am certain I shall be broken down, gouty, impotent.
Therefore, then, sire - "

"Monsieur," interrupted the king, "remember your words of yesterday. You
said to me in this very place where you now are, that you were endowed
with the best health of any man in France; that fatigue was unknown to
you! that you did not mind spending whole days and nights at your post.
Did you tell me that, monsieur, or not? Try and recall, monsieur."

The officer sighed. "Sire," said he, "old age is boastful; and it is
pardonable for old men to praise themselves when others no longer do it.
It is very possible I said that; but the fact is, sire, I am very much
fatigued, an request permission to retire."

"Monsieur," said the king, advancing towards the officer with a gesture