“Does that interest you?”

“Why, yes, sire.  My friend Athos is quite covered with orders, and that dazzles me.”

“You shall be a knight of my order a month after you have taken your commission of captain.”

“Ah! ah!” said the officer, thoughtfully, “after the expedition.”

“Precisely.”

“Where is your majesty going to send me?”

“Are you acquainted with Bretagne?”

“No, sire.”

“Have you any friends there?”

“In Bretagne?  No, ma foi!”

“So much the better.  Do you know anything about fortifications?”

“I believe I do, sire,” said D’Artagnan, smiling.

“That is to say you can readily distinguish a fortress from a simple fortification, such as is allowed to chatelains or vassals?”

“I distinguish a fort from a rampart as I distinguish a cuirass from a raised pie-crust, sire.  Is that sufficient?”

“Yes, monsieur.  You will set out, then.”

“For Bretagne?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Absolutely alone.  That is to say, you must not even take a lackey with you.”

“May I ask your majesty for what reason?”

“Because, monsieur, it will be necessary to disguise yourself sometimes, as the servant of a good family.  Your face is very well known in France, M. d’Artagnan.”

“And then, sire?”

“And then you will travel slowly through Bretagne, and will examine the fortifications of that country.”

“The coasts?”

“Yes, and the isles; commencing by Belle-Ile-en-Mer.”

“Ah! which belongs to M. Fouquet!” said D’Artagnan, in a serious tone, raising his intelligent eye to Louis XIV.

“I fancy you are right, monsieur, and that Bell-Isle does belong to M. Fouquet, in fact.”

“Then your majesty wishes me to ascertain if Belle-Isle is a strong place?”

“Yes.”

“If the fortifications of it are new or old?”

“Precisely.”

“And if the vassals of M. Fouquet are sufficiently numerous to form a garrison?”

“That is what I want to know; you have placed your finger on the question.”

“And if they are not fortifying, sire?”

“You will travel about Bretagne, listening and judging.”

“Then I am a king’s spy?” said D’Artagnan, bluntly, twisting his mustache.

“No, monsieur.”

“Your pardon sire; I spy on your majesty’s account.”

“You start on a voyage of discovery, monsieur.  Would you march at the head of your musketeers, with your sword in your hand, to observe any spot whatever, or an enemy’s position?”

At this word D’Artagnan started.

“Do you,” continued the king, “imagine yourself to be a spy?”

“No, no,” said D’Artagnan, but pensively; “the thing changes its face when one observes an enemy:  one is but a soldier.  And if they are fortifying Belle-Isle?” added he, quickly.