“Or something to this effect, sire — ‘My musketeers!’ I could then no longer hesitate.  That look was for me.  I cried out instantly, ’His majesty’s musketeers!’ And, besides, that was shown to be true, sire, not only by your majesty’s not saying I was wrong, but proving I was right by going out at once.”

The king turned away to smile; then, after a few seconds, he again fixed his limpid eye upon that countenance, so intelligent, so bold, and so firm, that it might have been said to be the proud and energetic profile of the eagle facing the sun.  “That is all very well,” said he, after a short silence, during which he endeavored, in vain, to make his officer lower his eyes.

But seeing the king said no more, the latter pirouetted on his heels, and took three steps towards the door, muttering, “He will not speak! Mordioux! he will not speak!”

“Thank you, monsieur,” said the king at last.

“Humph!” continued the lieutenant; “there was only wanting that.  Blamed for having been less of a fool than another might have been.”  And he went to the door, allowing his spurs to jingle in true military style.  But when he was on the threshold, feeling the king’s desire drew him back, he returned.

“Has your majesty told me all?” asked he, in a tone we cannot describe, but which, without appearing to solicit the royal confidence, contained so much persuasive frankness, that the king immediately replied: 

“Yes; but draw near, monsieur.”

“Now then,” murmured the officer, “he is coming to it at last.”

“Listen to me.”

“I shall not lose a word, sire.”

“You will mount on horseback to-morrow, at about half-past four in the morning, and you will have a horse saddled for me.”

“From your majesty’s stables?”

“No; one of your musketeers’ horses.”

“Very well, sire.  Is that all?”

“And you will accompany me.”

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“Shall I come to seek your majesty, or shall I wait?”

“You will wait for me.”

“Where, sire?”

“At the little park-gate.”

The lieutenant bowed, understanding that the king had told him all he had to say.  In fact, the king dismissed him with a gracious wave of the hand.  The officer left the chamber of the king, and returned to place himself philosophically in his fauteuil, where, far from sleeping, as might have been expected, considering how late it was, he began to reflect more deeply than he had ever reflected before.  The result of these reflections was not so melancholy as the preceding ones had been.