“I should like to see this young man, Tréville—I should like to see him; and if anything can be done—well, we will make it our business to do it.”

“When will your Majesty deign to receive him?”

“To-morrow at midday, Tréville.”

“Shall I bring him alone?”

“No, bring me all four together; I wish to thank them all at once. Devoted men are so rare, Tréville, we must recompense devotion.”

“At twelve o’clock, sire, we will be at the Louvre.”

“Ah! by the back staircase, Tréville, by the back staircase. It is useless to let the cardinal know.”

“Yes, sire.”

“You understand, Tréville; an edict is still an edict; it is forbidden to fight, after all.”

“But this encounter, sire, is quite out of the ordinary conditions of a duel. It is a brawl; and the proof is that there were five of the cardinal’s guards against my three musketeers and M. d’Artagnan.”

“That is true,” said the king; “but never mind, Tréville; come anyway by the back staircase.”

Tréville smiled. But as it was already something to have prevailed upon this child to rebel against his master, he saluted the king respectfully, and with this agreement took leave of him.

That evening the three musketeers were informed of the honour which was bestowed upon them. As they had long been acquainted with the king, they were not much excited by the circumstance; but D’Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, saw in it his future fortune, and passed the night in golden dreams.

M. de Tréville had ordered his three musketeers and their companion to be with him at half-past six in the morning. He took them with him, without assuring them or promising them anything.

When they had reached the foot of the back stairs he desired them to wait.

Ten minutes had scarcely passed away when the door of the king’s closet opened, and M. de Tréville saw the king advancing to the door.—“Ah! that’s you, Tréville. Where are your musketeers? I told you to bring them with you. Why have you not done so?”

“They are below, sire; and with your permission La Chesnaye will tell them to come up.”“Yes, yes, let them come up immediately. It is nearly eight o’clock, and at nine I expect a visit. Come in, Tréville.”

At that moment the three musketeers and D’Artagnan, led by La Chesnaye, the King’s valet appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Come in, my braves,” said the king, “come in; I have a scolding for you.”

“Therefore, sire, your Majesty sees that they are come quite contrite and repentant to offer you their excuses.”

“Quite contrite and repentant! Hem!” said the king, “I place no confidence in their hypocritical faces. In particular, there is one yonder with a Gascon face.—Come here, sir.”

D’Artagnan, who understood that it was to him this compliment was addressed, approached, assuming a most despondent air.