his feet had taken root.
“Monsieur le mousquetaire,” said he, “are you a gentleman?”
“I have that honor.”
“Very well! I also am one, and between gentlemen some
consideration ought to be observed.”
The soldier lowered his arms, overcome by the dignity with
which these words were pronounced.
“Speak, monsieur,” said he; “and if you ask me anything in
my power —- ”
“Thank you. You have an officer, have you not?”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Our lieutenant? Yes, monsieur.”
“Well, I wish to speak to him.”
“Oh, that’s a different thing. Come up, monsieur.”
The unknown saluted the soldier in a lofty fashion, and
ascended the staircase; whilst a cry, “Lieutenant, a visit!”
transmitted from sentinel to sentinel, preceded the unknown,
and disturbed the slumbers of the officer.
Dragging on his boots, rubbing his eyes, and hooking his
cloak, the lieutenant made three steps towards the stranger.
“What can I do to serve you, monsieur?” asked he.
“You are the officer on duty, lieutenant of the musketeers,
are you?”
“I have that honor,” replied the officer.
“Monsieur, I must absolutely speak to the king.”
The lieutenant looked attentively at the unknown, and in
that look, however rapid, he saw all he wished to see —
that is to say, a person of high distinction in an ordinary
dress.
“I do not suppose you to be mad,” replied he; “and yet you
seem to me to be in a condition to know, monsieur, that
people do not enter a king’s apartments in this manner
without his consent.”
“He will consent.”
“Monsieur, permit me to doubt that. The king has retired
this quarter of an hour; he must be now undressing. Besides,
the word is given.”
“When he knows who I am, he will recall the word.”
The officer was more and more surprised, more and more
subdued.
“If I consent to announce you, may I at least know whom to
announce, monsieur?”
“You will announce His Majesty Charles II., King of England,
Scotland, and Ireland.”
The officer uttered a cry of astonishment, drew back, and
there might be seen upon his pallid countenance one of the
most poignant emotions that ever an energetic man endeavored
to drive back to his heart.
“Oh, yes, sire; in fact,” said he, “I ought to have
recognized you.”
“You have seen my portrait, then?”
“No, sire.”
“Or else you have seen me formerly at court, before I was
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
driven from France?”
“No, sire, it is not even that.”
“How then could you have recognized me, if you have never
seen my portrait or my person?”
“Sire, I saw his majesty your father at a terrible moment.”
“The day —- ”
“Yes.”
A dark cloud passed over the brow of the prince; then,
dashing his hand across it, “Do you still see any difficulty
in announcing me?” said he.
“Sire, pardon me,” replied the officer, “but I could not
imagine a king under so simple an exterior; and yet I had
the honor to tell your majesty just now that I had seen
Charles I. But pardon me, monsieur; I will go and inform the
king.”
But returning after going a few steps, “Your majesty is
desirous, without doubt, that this interview should be a
secret?” said he.
“I do not require it; but if it were possible to preserve it
—- ”
“It is possible, sire, for I can dispense with informing the
first gentleman on duty; but, for that, your majesty must
please to consent to give up your sword.”
“True, true; I had forgotten that no one armed is permitted
to enter the chamber of a king of France.”
“Your majesty will form an exception, if you wish it; but
then I shall avoid my responsibility by informing the king’s
attendant.”
“Here is my sword, monsieur. Will you now please to announce
me to his majesty?”
“Instantly, sire.” And the officer immediately went and
knocked at the door of communication, which the valet opened
to him.
“His Majesty the King of England!” said the officer.
“His Majesty the King of England!” replied the valet de
chambre.
At these words a gentleman opened the folding-doors of the