“Humph!” said Charles, “I am sorry to hear that; I should like to do much for you; I like you very much.”

“Sire — "

“But, let us see,” said Charles with a smile, “if we cannot make you break your word.  Duke, assist me.  If you were offered, that is to say, if I offered you the chief command of my musketeers?” D’Artagnan bowed lower than before.

“I should have the regret to refuse what your gracious majesty would offer me,” said he; “a gentleman has but his word, and that word, as I have had the honor to tell your majesty, is engaged to the king of France.”

“We shall say no more about it, then,” said the king, turning towards Athos, and leaving D’Artagnan plunged in the deepest pangs of disappointment.

“Ah!  I said so!” muttered the musketeer.  “Words! words!  Court holy water!  Kings have always a marvelous talent for offering us that which they know we will not accept, and in appearing generous without risk.  So be it! — triple fool that I was to have hoped for a moment!”

During this time, Charles took the hand of Athos.  “Comte,” said he, “you have been to me a second father; the services you have rendered to me are above all price.  I have, nevertheless, thought of a recompense.  You were created by my father a Knight of the Garter — that is an order which all the kings of Europe cannot bear; by the queen regent, Knight of the Holy Ghost — which is an order not less illustrious; I join to it that of the Golden Fleece sent me by the king of France, to whom the king of Spain, his father-in-law, gave two on the occasion of his marriage; but in return, I have a service to ask of you.”

“Sire,” said Athos, with confusion, “the Golden Fleece for me! when the king of France is the only person in my country who enjoys that distinction?”

“I wish you to be in your country and all others the equal of all those whom sovereigns have honored with their favor,” said Charles, drawing the chain from his neck; “and I am sure, comte, my father smiles on me from his grave.”

“It is unaccountably strange,” said D’Artagnan to himself, whilst his friend, on his knees, received the eminent order which the king conferred on him — “it is almost incredible that I have always seen showers of prosperity fall upon all who surrounded me, and that not a drop ever reached me!  If I were a jealous man, it would be enough to make one tear one’s hair, parole d’honneur!”

Athos rose from his knees, and Charles embraced him tenderly.  “General!” said he to Monk — then stopping, with a smile, “pardon me, duke, I mean.  No wonder if I make a mistake; the word duke is too short for me, I always seek some title to lengthen it.  I should wish to see you so near my throne, that I might say to you, as to Louis XIV., my brother!  Oh!  I have it; and you will almost be my brother, for I make you viceroy of Ireland and Scotland, my dear duke.  So, after that fashion, henceforward I shall not make a mistake.”