another and have therefore no fear of others recognizing us,
let us go and see the king’s entrance.”
They had not been long in the crowd before loud cries
announced the king’s arrival. A carriage had been sent to
meet him, and the gigantic Porthos, who stood a head above
the entire rabble, soon announced that he saw the royal
equipage approaching. D’Artagnan raised himself on tiptoe,
and as the carriage passed, saw Harrison at one window and
Mordaunt at the other.
The next day, Athos, leaning out of his window, which looked
upon the most populous part of the city, heard the Act of
Parliament, which summoned the ex-king, Charles I., to the
bar, publicly cried.
“Parliament indeed!” cried Athos. “Parliament can never have
passed such an act as that.”
At this moment the landlord came in.
“Did parliament pass this act?” Athos asked of him in
English.
“Yes, my lord, the pure parliament.”
“What do you mean by `the pure parliament’? Are there, then,
two parliaments?”
“My friend,” D’Artagnan interrupted, “as I don’t understand
English and we all understand Spanish, have the kindness to
speak to us in that language, which, since it is your own,
you must find pleasure in using when you have the chance.”
“Ah! excellent!” said Aramis.
As to Porthos, all his attention was concentrated on the
allurements of the breakfast table.
“You were asking, then?” said the host in Spanish.
“I asked,” said Athos, in the same language, “if there are
two parliaments, a pure and an impure?”
“Why, how extraordinary!” said Porthos, slowly raising his
head and looking at his friends with an air of astonishment,
“I understand English, then! I understand what you say!”
“That is because we are talking Spanish, my dear friend,”
said Athos.
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“Oh, the devil!” said Porthos, “I am sorry for that; it
would have been one language more.”
“When I speak of the pure parliament,” resumed the host, “I
mean the one which Colonel Bridge has weeded.”
“Ah! really,” said D’Artagnan, “these people are very
ingenious. When I go back to France I must suggest some such
convenient course to Cardinal Mazarin and the coadjutor. One
of them will weed the parliament in the name of the court,
and the other in the name of the people; and then there
won’t be any parliament at all.”
“And who is this Colonel Bridge?” asked Aramis, “and how
does he go to work to weed the parliament?”
“Colonel Bridge,” replied the Spaniard, “is a retired
wagoner, a man of much sense, who made one valuable
observation whilst driving his team, namely, that where
there happened to be a stone on the road, it was much easier
to remove the stone than try and make the wheel pass over
it. Now, of two hundred and fifty-one members who composed
the parliament, there were one hundred and ninety-one who
were in the way and might have upset his political wagon. He
took them up, just as he formerly used to take up the stones
from the road, and threw them out of the house.”
“Neat,” remarked D’Artagnan. “Very!”
“And all these one hundred and ninety-one were Royalists?”
asked Athos.
“Without doubt, senor; and you understand that they would
have saved the king.”
“To be sure,” said Porthos, with majestic common sense;
“they were in the majority.”
“And you think,” said Aramis, “he will consent to appear
before such a tribunal?”
“He will be forced to do so,” smiled the Spaniard.
“Now, Athos!” said D’Artagnan, “do you begin to believe that
it’s a ruined cause, and that what with your Harrisons,
Joyces, Bridges and Cromwells, we shall never get the upper
hand?”
“The king will be delivered at the tribunal,” said Athos;
“the very silence of his supporters indicates that they are
at work.”
D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders.
“But,” said Aramis, “if they dare to condemn their king, it
can only be to exile or imprisonment.”
D’Artagnan whistled a little air of incredulity.
“We shall see,” said Athos, “for we shall go to the
sittings, I presume.”
“You will not have long to wait,” said the landlord; “they
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