D’Artagnan sighed deeply, for this voice responded to a secret voice of his soul, which told him that great misfortunes awaited him.

The whole of the next day was spent in preparations for departure.  D’Artagnan went to take leave of M. de Treville.  At that time it was believed that the separation of the Musketeers and the Guards would be but momentary, the king holding his Parliament that very day and proposing to set out the day after.  M. de Treville contented himself with asking d’Artagnan if he could do anything for him, but d’Artagnan answered that he was supplied with all he wanted.

That night brought together all those comrades of the Guards of M. Dessessart and the company of Musketeers of M. de Treville who had been accustomed to associate together.  They were parting to meet again when it pleased God, and if it pleased God.  That night, then, was somewhat riotous, as may be imagined.  In such cases extreme preoccupation is only to be combated by extreme carelessness.

At the first sound of the morning trumpet the friends separated; the Musketeers hastening to the hotel of M. de Treville, the Guards to that of M. Dessessart.  Each of the captains then led his company to the Louvre, where the king held his review.

The king was dull and appeared ill, which detracted a little from his usual lofty bearing.  In fact, the evening before, a fever had seized him in the midst of the Parliament, while he was holding his Bed of Justice.  He had, not the less, decided upon setting out that same evening; and in spite of the remonstrances that had been offered to him, he persisted in having the review, hoping by setting it at defiance to conquer the disease which began to lay hold upon him.

The review over, the Guards set forward alone on their march, the Musketeers waiting for the king, which allowed Porthos time to go and take a turn in his superb equipment in the Rue aux Ours.

The procurator’s wife saw him pass in his new uniform and on his fine horse.  She loved Porthos too dearly to allow him to part thus; she made him a sign to dismount and come to her.  Porthos was magnificent; his spurs jingled, his cuirass glittered, his sword knocked proudly against his ample limbs.  This time the clerks evinced no inclination to laugh, such a real ear clipper did Porthos appear.

The Musketeer was introduced to M. Coquenard, whose little gray eyes sparkled with anger at seeing his cousin all blazing new.  Nevertheless, one thing afforded him inward consolation; it was expected by everybody that the campaign would be a severe one.  He whispered a hope to himself that this beloved relative might be killed in the field.

Porthos paid his compliments to M. Coquenard and bade him farewell.  M. Coquenard wished him all sorts of prosperities.  As to Mme. Coquenard, she could not restrain her tears; but no evil impressions were taken from her grief as she was known to be very much attached to her relatives, about whom she was constantly having serious disputes with her husband.