"
This de Sigognac could not dispute, and he only nodded in token of
assent, as he grasped the hilt of his sword, so as to be ready to draw
it at the slightest cause for suspicion or alarm. Meantime they had
walked on as far as the Porte de la Conference, and now saw ahead of
them a great cloud of dust, and through it the glitter of bayonets.
They stepped aside to let the cavalcade pass, and saw that the soldiers
preceded the carriage of the king, who was returning from Saint Germain
to the Louvre. The curtains of the royal vehicle were raised, and
the glasses let down, so that the people could distinctly see their
sovereign, Louis XIII, who, pale as a ghost and dressed all in black,
sat as motionless as an effigy in wax. Long, dark brown hair fell about
his mournful, ghastly countenance, upon which was depicted the same
terrible ennui that drove Philip II of Spain, to seclude himself so
much, during the later years of his life, in the silence and solitude of
the dreary Escorial. His eyes were fixed on vacancy, and seemed utterly
lifeless--no desire, no thought, no will lent them light or expression.
A profound disgust for and weariness of everything in this life had
relaxed his lower lip, which fell sullenly, in a morose, pouting way.
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