“And you stand firm before me as before the enemy,” said the Cardinal; “you will have no cause to regret it in the end, my dear Fabert.”

Mazarin also approached the Cardinal, but with caution, and, giving to his mobile features an expression of profound sadness, made him five or six very low bows, turning his back to the group gathered around the King, so that in the latter quarter they might be taken for those cold and hasty salutations which are made to a person one desires to be rid of, and, on the part of the Duke, for tokens of respect, blended with a discreet and silent sorrow.

The minister, ever calm, smiled disdainfully; and, assuming that firm look and that air of grandeur which he always wore in the hour of danger, he again leaned upon his pages, and, without waiting for a word or a glance from his sovereign, he suddenly resolved upon his line of conduct, and walked directly toward him, traversing the whole length of the tent.  No one had lost sight of him, although all affected not to observe him.  Every one now became silent, even those who were conversing with the King.  All the courtiers bent forward to see and to hear.

Louis XIII turned toward him in astonishment, and, all presence of mind totally failing him, remained motionless and waited with an icy glance-his sole force, but a force very effectual in a prince.

The Cardinal, on coming close to the monarch, did not bow; and, without changing his attitude, with his eyes lowered and his hands placed on the shoulders of the two boys half bending, he said: 

“Sire, I come to implore your Majesty at length to grant me the retirement for which I have long sighed.  My health is failing; I feel that my life will soon be ended.  Eternity approaches me, and before rendering an account to the eternal King, I would render one to my earthly sovereign.  It is eighteen years, Sire, since you placed in my hands a weak and divided kingdom; I return it to you united and powerful.  Your enemies are overthrown and humiliated.  My work is accomplished.  I ask your Majesty’s permission to retire to Citeaux, of which I am abbot, and where I may end my days in prayer and meditation.”

The King, irritated by some haughty expressions in this address, showed none of the signs of weakness which the Cardinal had expected, and which he had always seen in him when he had threatened to resign the management of affairs.  On the contrary, feeling that he had the eyes of the whole court upon him, Louis looked upon him with the air of a king, and coldly replied: 

“We thank you, then, for your services, Monsieur le Cardinal, and wish you the repose you desire.”

Richelieu was deeply moved, but no indication of his anger appeared upon his countenance.  “Such was the coldness with which you left Montmorency to die,” he said to himself; “but you shall not escape me thus.”  He then continued aloud, bowing at the same time: