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the service of the King and Queen of France, and form part of the company of Monsieur Dessessart, who, as well as his brother-in-law, Monsieur de Treville, is particularly attached to their Majesties. What I have done, then, has been for the queen, and not at all for your Grace. And still further, it is very probable I should not have done anything of this, if it had not been to make myself agreeable to someone who is my lady, as the queen is yours.”

      “Yes,” said the duke, smiling, “and I even believe that I know that other person; it is—”

      “My Lord, I have not named her!” interrupted the young man, warmly.

      “That is true,” said the duke; “and it is to this person I am bound to discharge my debt of gratitude.”

      “You have said, my Lord; for truly, at this moment when there is question of war, I confess to you that I see nothing in your Grace but an Englishman, and consequently an enemy whom I should have much greater pleasure in meeting on the field of battle than in the park at Windsor or the corridors of the Louvre—all which, however, will not prevent me from executing to the very point my commission or from laying down my life, if there be need of it, to accomplish it; but I repeat it to your Grace, without your having personally on that account more to thank me for in this second interview than for what I did for you in the first.”

      “We say, ‘Proud as a Scotsman,’” murmured the Duke of Buckingham.

      “And we say, ‘Proud as a Gascon,’” replied d’Artagnan. “The Gascons are the Scots of France.”

      D’Artagnan bowed to the duke, and was retiring.

      “Well, are you going away in that manner? Where, and how?”

      “That’s true!”

      “Fore Gad, these Frenchmen have no consideration!”

      “I had forgotten that England was an island, and that you were the king of it.”

      “Go to the riverside, ask for the brig SUND, and give this letter to the captain; he will convey you to a little port, where certainly you are not expected, and which is ordinarily only frequented by fishermen.”

      “The name of that port?”

      “St. Valery; but listen. When you have arrived there you will go to a mean tavern, without a name and without a sign—a mere fisherman’s hut. You cannot be mistaken; there is but one.”

      “Afterward?”

      “You will ask for the host, and will repeat to him the word ‘Forward!’”

      “Which means?”

      “In French, EN AVANT. It is the password. He will give you a horse all saddled, and will point out to you the road you ought to take. You will find, in the same way, four relays on your route. If you will give at each of these relays your address in Paris, the four horses will follow you thither. You already know two of them, and you appeared to appreciate them like a judge. They were those we rode on; and you may rely upon me for the others not being inferior to them. These horses are equipped for the field. However proud you may be, you will not refuse to accept one of them, and to request your three companions to accept the others—that is, in order to make war against us. Besides, the end justified the means, as you Frenchmen say, does it not?”

      “Yes, my Lord, I accept them,” said d’Artagnan; “and if it please God, we will make a good use of your presents.”

      “Well, now, your hand, young man. Perhaps we shall soon meet on the field of battle; but in the meantime we shall part good friends, I hope.”

      “Yes, my Lord; but with the hope of soon becoming enemies.”

      “Be satisfied; I promise you that.”

      “I depend upon your word, my Lord.”

      D’Artagnan bowed to the duke, and made his way as quickly as possible to the riverside. Opposite the Tower of London he found the vessel that had been named to him, delivered his letter to the captain, who after having it examined by the governor of the port made immediate preparations to sail.

      Fifty vessels were waiting to set out. Passing alongside one of them, d’Artagnan fancied he perceived on board it the woman of Meung—the same whom the unknown gentleman had called Milady, and whom d’Artagnan had thought so handsome; but thanks to the current of the stream and a fair wind, his vessel passed so quickly that he had little more than a glimpse of her.

      The next day about nine o’clock in the morning, he landed at St. Valery. D’Artagnan went instantly in search of the inn, and easily discovered it by the riotous noise which resounded from it. War between England and France was talked of as near and certain, and the jolly sailors were having a carousal.

      D’Artagnan made his way through the crowd, advanced toward the host, and pronounced the word “Forward!” The host instantly made him a sign to follow, went out with him by a door which opened into a yard, led him to the stable, where a saddled horse awaited him, and asked him if he stood in need of anything else.

      “I want to know the route I am to follow,” said d’Artagnan.

      “Go from hence to Blangy, and from Blangy to Neufchatel. At Neufchatel, go to the tavern of the Golden Harrow, give the password to the landlord, and you will find, as you have here, a horse ready saddled.”

      “Have I anything to pay?” demanded d’Artagnan.

      “Everything is paid,” replied the host, “and liberally. Begone, and may God guide you!”

      “Amen!” cried the young man, and set off at full gallop.

      Four hours later he was in Neufchatel. He strictly followed the instructions he had received. At Neufchatel, as at St. Valery, he found a horse quite ready and awaiting him. He was about to remove the pistols from the saddle he had quit to the one he was about to fill, but he found the holsters furnished with similar pistols.

      “Your address at Paris?”

      “Hotel of the Guards, company of Dessessart.”

      “Enough,” replied the questioner.

      “Which route must I take?” demanded d’Artagnan, in his turn.

      “That of Rouen; but you will leave the city on your right. You must stop at the little village of Eccuis, in which there is but one tavern—the Shield of France. Don’t condemn it from appearances; you will find a horse in the stables quite as good as this.”

      “The same password?”

      “Exactly.”

      “Adieu, master!”

      “A good journey, gentlemen! Do you want anything?”

      D’Artagnan shook his head, and set off at full speed. At Eccuis, the same scene was repeated. He found as provident a host and a fresh horse. He left his address as he had done before, and set off again at the same pace for Pontoise. At Pontoise he changed his horse for the last time, and at nine o’clock galloped into the yard of Treville’s hotel. He had made nearly sixty leagues in little more than twelve hours.

      M de Treville received him as if he had seen him that same morning; only, when pressing his hand a little more warmly than usual, he informed him that the company of Dessessart was on duty at the Louvre, and that he might repair at once to his post.

       22 THE BALLET OF LA MERLAISON

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      ON THE MORROW, NOTHING was talked of in Paris but the ball which the aldermen of the city were to give to the king and queen, and in which their

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