officer, brave and handsome as a youthful Caesar; “then,
pretending to see Raoul for the first time:
“Ah! but if I mistake not,” continued he, “here he is; you
won’t forget the boy, sir.”
Raoul put his hand in his pocket.
“What are you about?” asked D’Artagnan.
“To give ten francs to this honest fellow,” replied Raoul,
taking a pistole from his pocket.
“Ten kicks on his back!” said D’Artagnan; “be off, you
little villain, and forget not that I have your address.”
Friquet, who did not expect to be let off so cheaply,
bounded off like a gazelle up the Quai a la Rue Dauphine,
and disappeared. Raoul mounted his horse, and both leisurely
took their way to the Rue Tiquetonne.
D’Artagnan watched over the youth as if he had been his own
son.
They arrived without accident at the Hotel de la Chevrette.
The handsome Madeleine announced to D’Artagnan that Planchet
had returned, bringing Mousqueton with him, who had
heroically borne the extraction of the ball and was as well
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as his state would permit.
D’Artagnan desired Planchet to be summoned, but he had
disappeared.
“Then bring some wine,” said D’Artagnan. “You are much
pleased with yourself,” said he to Raoul when they were
alone, “are you not?”
“Well, yes,” replied Raoul. “It seems to me I did my duty. I
defended the king.”
“And who told you to defend the king?”
“The Comte de la Fere himself.”
“Yes, the king; but to-day you have not fought for the king,
you have fought for Mazarin; which is not quite the same
thing.”
“But you yourself?”
“Oh, for me; that is another matter. I obey my captain’s
orders. As for you, your captain is the prince, understand
that rightly; you have no other. But has one ever seen such
a wild fellow,” continued he, “making himself a Mazarinist
and helping to arrest Broussel! Breathe not a word of that,
or the Comte de la Fere will be furious.”
“You think the count will be angry with me?”
“Think it? I’m certain of it; were it not for that, I should
thank you, for you have worked for us. However, I scold you
instead of him, and in his place; the storm will blow over
more easily, believe me. And moreover, my dear child,”
continued D’Artagnan, “I am making use of the privilege
conceded to me by your guardian.”
“I do not understand you, sir,” said Raoul.
D’Artagnan rose, and taking a letter from his writing-desk,
presented it to Raoul. The face of the latter became serious
when he had cast his eyes upon the paper.
“Oh, mon Dieu!” he said, raising his fine eyes to
D’Artagnan, moist with tears, “the count has left Paris
without seeing me?”
“He left four days ago,” said D’Artagnan.
“But this letter seems to intimate that he is about to incur
danger, perhaps death.”
“He — he — incur danger of death! No, be not anxious; he
is traveling on business and will return ere long. I hope
you have no repugnance to accept me as your guardian in the
interim.”
“Oh, no, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Raoul, “you are such a
brave gentleman and the Comte de la Fere has so much
affection for you!”
“Eh! Egad! love me too; I will not torment you much, but
only on condition that you become a Frondist, my young
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friend, and a hearty Frondist, too.”
“But can I continue to visit Madame de Chevreuse?”
“I should say you could! and the coadjutor and Madame de
Longueville; and if the worthy Broussel were there, whom you
so stupidly helped arrest, I should tell you to excuse
yourself to him at once and kiss him on both cheeks.”
“Well, sir, I will obey you, although I do not understand
you.
“It is unnecessary for you to understand. Hold,” continued
D’Artagnan, turning toward the door, which had just opened,
“here is Monsieur du Vallon, who comes with his coat torn.”
“Yes, but in exchange,” said Porthos, covered with
perspiration and soiled by dust, “in exchange, I have torn
many skins. Those wretches wanted to take away my sword!