been on guard.”
“Ah! yes; I know, my lord, and I expected nothing less from
your partiality; so that if it were only the abduction in
itself, Mordieux! that would be nothing; but there are —-
”
“What?”
“The circumstances of that abduction.”
“What circumstances?”
“Oh! you know very well what I mean, my lord.”
“No, curse me if I do.”
“There is — in truth, it is difficult to speak it.”
“There is?”
“Well, there is that devil of a box!”
Monk colored visibly. “Well, I have forgotten it.”
“Deal box,” continued D’Artagnan, “with holes for the nose
and mouth. In truth, my lord, all the rest was well; but the
box, the box! that was really a coarse joke.” Monk fidgeted
about in his chair. “And, notwithstanding my having done
that,” resumed D’Artagnan, “I, a soldier of fortune, it was
quite simple, because by the side of that action, a little
inconsiderate I admit, which I committed, but which the
gravity of the case may excuse, I am circumspect and
reserved.”
“Oh!” said Monk, “believe me, I know you well, Monsieur
d’Artagnan, and I appreciate you.”
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D’Artagnan never took his eyes off Monk; studying all which
passed in the mind of the general, as he prosecuted his
idea. “But it does not concern me,” resumed he.
“Well, then, whom does it concern?” said Monk, who began to
grow a little impatient.
“It relates to the king, who will never restrain his
tongue.”
“Well! and suppose he should say all he knows?” said Monk,
with a degree of hesitation.
“My lord,” replied D’Artagnan, “do not dissemble, I implore
you, with a man who speaks so frankly as I do. You have a
right to feel your susceptibility excited, however benignant
it may be. What, the devil! it is not the place for a man
like you, a man who plays with crowns and scepters as a
Bohemian plays with his balls; it is not the place of a
serious man, I said, to be shut up in a box like some freak
of natural history; for you must understand it would make
all your enemies ready to burst with laughter, and you are
so great, so noble, so generous, that you must have many
enemies. This secret is enough to set half the human race
laughing, if you were represented in that box. It is not
decent to have the second personage in the kingdom laughed
at.”
Monk was quite out of countenance at the idea of seeing
himself represented in his box. Ridicule, as D’Artagnan had
judiciously foreseen, acted upon him in a manner which
neither the chances of war, the aspirations of ambition, nor
the fear of death had been able to do.
“Good,” thought the Gascon, “he is frightened: I am safe.”
“Oh! as to the king,” said Monk, “fear nothing, my dear
Monsieur d’Artagnan; the king will not jest with Monk, I
assure you!”
The momentary flash of his eye was noticed by D’Artagnan.
Monk lowered his tone immediately: “The king,” continued he,
“is of too noble a nature, the king’s heart is too high to
allow him to wish ill to those who do him good.”
“Oh! certainly,” cried D’Artagnan. “I am entirely of your
grace’s opinion with regard to his heart, but not as to his
head — it is good, but it is trifling.”
“The king will not trifle with Monk, be assured.”
“Then you are quite at ease, my lord?”
“On that side, at least! yes, perfectly.”
“Oh! I understand you; you are at ease as far as the king is
concerned?”
“I have told you I was.”
“But you are not so much so on my account?”
“I thought I had told you that I had faith in your loyalty
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and discretion.”
“No doubt, no doubt, but you must remember one thing —- ”
“What is that?”
“That I was not alone, that I had companions; and what
companions!”
“Oh! yes, I know them.”
“And, unfortunately, my lord, they know you, too!”
“Well?”
“Well; they are yonder, at Boulogne, waiting for me.”
“And you fear —- “