Aramis dug his nails into his flesh and groaned aloud.
“Oh! my lord bishop,” he cried, seizing Juxon’s hands, “where is Providence? where is Providence?”
“My son,” replied the bishop, with firmness, “you see Him not, because the passions of the world conceal Him.”
“My son,” said the king to Aramis, “do not take it so to heart. You ask what God is doing. God beholds your devotion and my martyrdom, and believe me, both will have their reward. Ascribe to men, then, what is happening, and not to God. It is men who drive me to death; it is men who make you weep.”
“Yes, sire,” said Aramis, “yes, you are right.