“All that, my dear friend, is strikingly true,” replied Athos.

“Well, strikingly true as it may be, it is not less true, my friend, that I shall return — greatly beloved by M. Monk, who calls me dear captain all day long, although I am neither dear to him nor a captain; — and much appreciated by the king, who has already forgotten my name; — it is not less true, I say, that I shall return to my beautiful country, cursed by the soldiers I had raised with the hopes of large pay, cursed by the brave Planchet, of who I have borrowed a part of his fortune.”

“How is that?  What the devil had Planchet to do in all this?”

“Ah, yes, my friend; but this king, so spruce, so smiling, so adored, M. Monk fancies he has recalled him, you fancy you have supported him, I fancy I have brought him back, the people fancy they have reconquered him, he himself fancies he has negotiated his restoration; and yet nothing of all this is true, for Charles II., king of England, Scotland, and Ireland, has been replaced upon the throne by a French grocer, who lives in the Rue des Lombards, and is named Planchet.  And such is grandeur!  ‘Vanity!’ says the Scripture:  vanity, all is vanity.’”

Athos could not help laughing at this whimsical outbreak of his friend.

“My dear D’Artagnan,” said he, pressing his hand affectionately, “should you not exercise a little more philosophy?  Is it not some further satisfaction to you to have saved my life as you did by arriving so fortunately with Monk, when those damned parliamentarians wanted to burn me alive?”

“Well, but you, in some degree, deserved a little burning, my friend.”

“How so?  What, for having saved King Charles’s million?”

“What million?”

“Ah, that is true! you never knew that, my friend; but you must not be angry, for it was my secret.  That word ‘REMEMBER’ which the king pronounced upon the scaffold.”

“And which means ‘souviens-toi!’”

“Exactly.  That was signified.  ’Remember there is a million buried in the vaults of Newcastle Abbey, and that that million belongs to my son.’”

“Ah! very well, I understand.  But what I understand likewise, and what is very frightful, is, that every time his majesty Charles II. will think of me, he will say to himself:  ’There is the man who came very near to making me lose my crown.  Fortunately I was generous, great, full of presence of mind.’  That will be said by the young gentleman in a shabby black doublet, who came to the chateau of Blois, hat in hand, to ask me if I would give him access to the king of France.”

“D’Artagnan!  D’Artagnan!” said Athos, laying his hand on the shoulder of the musketeer, “you are unjust.”

“I have a right to be so.”

“No — for you are ignorant of the future.”

D’Artagnan looked his friend full in the face, and began to laugh.  “In truth, my dear Athos,” said he, “you have some sayings so superb, that they only belong to you and M. le Cardinal Mazarin.”