less eager to partake of your joy, although from a distance.
Wait for me.” And D’Artagnan was already passing through the
vestibule, when a man, half servant, half soldier, who
filled in Monk’s establishment the double functions of
porter and guard, stopped our musketeer, saying to him in
English:
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“I beg your pardon, my Lord d’Artagnan!”
“Well,” replied the latter: “what is it? Is the general
going to dismiss me? I only needed to be expelled by him.”
These words, spoken in French, made no impression upon the
person to whom they were addressed and who himself only
spoke an English mixed with the rudest Scotch. But Athos was
grieved at them, for he began to think D’Artagnan was not
wrong.
The Englishman showed D’Artagnan a letter: “From the
general,” said he.
“Aye! that’s it, my dismissal!” replied the Gascon. “Must I
read it, Athos?”
“You must be deceived,” said Athos, “or I know no more
honest people in the world but you and myself.”
D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and unsealed the letter,
while the impassible Englishman held for him a large
lantern, by the light of which he was enabled to read it.
“Well, what is the matter?” said Athos, seeing the
countenance of the reader change.
“Read it yourself,” said the musketeer.
Athos took the paper and read:
Monsieur d’Artagnan. — The king regrets very much you did
not come to St. Paul’s with his cortege. He missed you, as I
also have missed you, my dear captain. There is but one
means of repairing all this. His majesty expects me at nine
o’clock at the palace of St. James’s: will you be there at
the same time with me? His gracious majesty appoints that
hour for an audience he grants you.”
This letter was from Monk.
CHAPTER 33
The Audience.
“Well?” cried Athos with a mild look of reproach when
D’Artagnan had read the letter addressed to him by Monk.
“Well!” said D’Artagnan, red with pleasure, and a little
with shame, at having so hastily accused the king and Monk.
“This is a politeness, — which leads to nothing, it is
true, but yet it is a politeness.”
“I had great difficulty in believing the young prince
ungrateful,” said Athos.
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“The fact is, that his present is still too near his past,”
replied D’Artagnan; “after all, everything to the present
moment proved me right.”
“I acknowledge it, my dear friend, I acknowledge it. Ah!
there is your cheerful look returned. You cannot think how
delighted I am.”
“Thus you see,” said D’Artagnan, “Charles II. receives M.
Monk at nine o’clock; he will receive me at ten; it is a
grand audience, of the sort which at the Louvre are called
`distributions of court holy water.’ Come, let us go and
place ourselves under the spout, my dear friend! Come
along.”
Athos replied nothing; and both directed their steps, at a
quick pace, towards the palace of St. James’s, which the
crowd still surrounded, to catch, through the windows, the
shadows of the courtiers, and the reflection of the royal
person. Eight o’clock was striking when the two friends took
their places in the gallery filled with courtiers and
politicians. Every one looked at these simply-dressed men in
foreign costumes, at these two noble heads so full of
character and meaning. On their side, Athos and D’Artagnan,
having with two glances taken the measure of the whole
assembly, resumed their chat.
A great noise was suddenly heard at the extremity of the
gallery, — it was General Monk, who entered, followed by
more than twenty officers, all eager for a smile, as only
the evening before he was master of all England, and a
glorious morrow was looked to, for the restorer of the
Stuart family.
“Gentlemen,” said Monk, turning round, “henceforward I beg
you to remember that I am no longer anything. Lately I
commanded the principal army of the republic; now that army
is the king’s, into whose hands I am about to surrender, at
his command, my power of yesterday.”
Great surprise was painted on all the countenances, and the