but in the distance was heard, like the noise of the tide
rushing in, the deep hum of the populous waves increasing
now around Notre Dame.
This noise redoubled when D’Artagnan, with a company of
musketeers, placed himself at the gates of Notre Dame to
secure the service of the church. He had instructed Porthos
to profit by this opportunity to see the ceremony; and
Porthos, in full dress, mounted his finest horse, taking the
part of supernumerary musketeer, as D’Artagnan had so often
done formerly. The sergeant of this company, a veteran of
the Spanish wars, had recognized Porthos, his old companion,
and very soon all those who served under him were placed in
possession of startling facts concerning the honor of the
ancient musketeers of Treville. Porthos had not only been
well received by the company, but he was moreover looked on
with great admiration.
At ten o’clock the guns of the Louvre announced the
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departure of the king, and then a movement, similar to that
of trees in a stormy wind that bend and writhe with agitated
tops, ran though the multitude, which was compressed behind
the immovable muskets of the guard. At last the king
appeared with the queen in a gilded chariot. Ten other
carriages followed, containing the ladies of honor, the
officers of the royal household, and the court.
“God save the king!” was the cry in every direction; the
young monarch gravely put his head out of the window, looked
sufficiently grateful and even bowed; at which the cries of
the multitude were renewed.
Just as the court was settling down in the cathedral, a
carriage, bearing the arms of Comminges, quitted the line of
the court carriages and proceeded slowly to the end of the
Rue Saint Christophe, now entirely deserted. When it arrived
there, four guards and a police officer, who accompanied it,
mounted into the heavy machine and closed the shutters; then
through an opening cautiously made, the policeman began to
watch the length of the Rue Cocatrix, as if he was waiting
for some one.
All the world was occupied with the ceremony, so that
neither the chariot nor the precautions taken by those who
were within it had been observed. Friquet, whose eye, ever
on the alert, could alone have discovered them, had gone to
devour his apricots upon the entablature of a house in the
square of Notre Dame. Thence he saw the king, the queen and
Monsieur Mazarin, and heard the mass as well as if he had
been on duty.
Toward the end of the service, the queen, seeing Comminges
standing near her, waiting for a confirmation of the order
she had given him before quitting the Louvre, said in a
whisper:
“Go, Comminges, and may God aid you!”
Comminges immediately left the church and entered the Rue
Saint Christophe. Friquet, seeing this fine officer thus
walk away, followed by two guards, amused himself by
pursuing them and did this so much the more gladly as the
ceremony ended at that instant and the king remounted his
carriage.
Hardly had the police officer observed Comminges at the end
of the Rue Cocatrix when he said one word to the coachman,
who at once put his vehicle into motion and drove up before
Broussel’s door. Comminges knocked at the door at the same
moment, and Friquet was waiting behind Comminges until the
door should be opened.
“What dost thou there, rascal?” asked Comminges.
“I want to go into Master Broussel’s house, captain,”
replied Friquet, in that wheedling way the “gamins” of Paris
know so well how to assume when necessary.
“And on what floor does he live?” asked Comminges.
“In the whole house,” said Friquet; “the house belongs to
him; he occupies the second floor when he works and descends
to the first to take his meals; he must be at dinner now; it
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is noon.”
“Good,” said Comminges.
At this moment the door was opened, and having questioned
the servant the officer learned that Master Broussel was at
home and at dinner.
Broussel was seated at the table with his family, having his