LITMIR.BIZ

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Really, one might just as well permit dueling."

      Manicamp started, and moved as if he were about to withdraw. "Is your majesty satisfied?" he inquired.

      "Delighted; but do not withdraw yet, Monsieur de Manicamp," said Louis, "I have something to say to you."

      "Well, well!" thought D'Artagnan, "there is another who is not up to our mark;" and he uttered a sigh which might signify, "oh! the men of our stamp, where are they now?"

      At this moment an usher lifted up the curtain before the door, and announced the king's physician.

      "Ah!" exclaimed Louis, "here comes Monsieur Valot, who has just been to see M. de Guiche. We shall now hear news of the wounded man."

      Manicamp felt more uncomfortable than ever. "In this way, at least," added the king, "our conscience will be quite clear." And he looked at D'Artagnan, who did not seem in the slightest degree discomposed.

CHAPTER XXV.

       Table of Contents

THE PHYSICIAN.

       Table of Contents

      M. Valot entered. The position of the different persons present was precisely the same: the king was seated, Saint-Aignan still leaning over the back of his armchair, D'Artagnan with his back against the wall, and Manicamp still standing.

      "Well, M. Valot," said the king, "have you obeyed my directions?"

      "With the greatest alacrity, sire."

      "You went to the doctor's house in Fontainebleau?"

      "Yes, sire."

      "And you found M. de Guiche there?"

      "I did, sire."

      "What state was he in? Speak unreservedly."

      "In a very sad state, indeed, sire."

      "The wild boar did not quite devour him, however?"

      "Devour whom?"

      "Guiche."

      "What wild boar?"

      "The boar that wounded him."

      "M. de Guiche wounded by a boar?"

      "So it is said, at least."

      "By a poacher, rather, or by a jealous husband, or an ill-used lover, who, in order to be revenged, fired upon him."

      "What is that you say, Monsieur Valot? Are not M. de Guiche's wounds produced by defending himself against a wild boar?"

      "M. de Guiche's wounds are produced by a pistol-bullet which broke his ring-finger and the little finger of the right hand, and afterward buried itself in the intercostal muscles of the chest."

      "A bullet! Are you sure Monsieur de Guiche has been wounded by a bullet?" exclaimed the king, pretending to look much surprised.

      "Indeed I am, sire; so sure, in fact, that here it is." And he presented to the king a half-flattened bullet, which the king looked at, but did not touch.

      "Did he have that in his chest, poor fellow?" he asked.

      "Not precisely. The ball did not penetrate, but was flattened, as you see, either upon the trigger of the pistol or upon the right side of the breast-bone."

      "Good heavens!" said the king, seriously, "you said nothing to me about this, Monsieur de Manicamp."

      "Sire—"

      "What does all this mean, then—this invention about hunting a wild boar at nightfall? Come, speak, monsieur."

      "Sire—"

      "It seems, then, that you are right," said the king, turning round toward his captain of musketeers, "and that a duel actually took place."

      The king possessed, to a greater extent than any one else, the faculty enjoyed by the great in power or position, of compromising and dividing those beneath him. Manicamp darted a look full of reproaches at the musketeer. D'Artagnan understood the look at once, and, not wishing to remain beneath the weight of such an accusation, advanced a step forward, and said; "Sire, your majesty commanded me to go and explore the place where the cross-roads meet in the Bois-Rochin, and to report to you, according to my own ideas, what had taken place there. I submitted my observations to you, but without denouncing any one. It was your majesty yourself who was the first to name the Comte de Guiche."

      "Well, monsieur, well," said the king, haughtily, "you have done your duty, and I am satisfied with you. But you, Monsieur de Manicamp, have failed in yours, for you have told me a falsehood."

      "A falsehood, sire. The expression is a hard one."

      "Find another instead, then."

      "Sire, I will not attempt to do so. I have already been unfortunate enough to displease your majesty, and it will, in every respect, be far better for me to accept most humbly any reproaches you may think proper to address to me."

      "You are right, monsieur; whoever conceals the truth from me risks my displeasure."

      "Sometimes, sire, one is ignorant of the truth."

      "No further falsehood, monsieur, or I double the punishment."

      Manicamp bowed and turned pale. D'Artagnan again made another step forward, determined to interfere, if the still increasing anger of the king attained certain limits.

      "You see, monsieur," continued the king, "that it is useless to deny the thing any longer. M. de Guiche has fought a duel."

      "I do not deny it, sire; and it would have been generous in your majesty not to have forced me to tell a falsehood."

      "Forced! Who forced you?"

      "Sire, M. de Guiche is my friend: your majesty has forbidden duels under pain of death; a falsehood might save my friend's life, and I told it."

      "Good!" murmured D'Artagnan, "an excellent fellow, upon my word!"

      "Instead of telling a falsehood, monsieur, you should have prevented him from fighting," said the king.

      "Oh, sire, your majesty, who is the most accomplished gentleman in France, knows quite as well any of us other gentlemen that we have never considered M. de Botteville dishonored for having suffered death on the Place de Greve. That which does in truth dishonor a man is to avoid meeting his enemy, and not to avoid meeting his executioner."

      "Well, monsieur, that may be so," said Louis XIV.; "I am very desirous of suggesting a means of your repairing all."

      "If it be a means of which a gentleman may avail himself, I shall most eagerly do so."

      "The name of M. de Guiche's adversary?"

      "Oh, oh!" murmured D'Artagnan, "are we going to take Louis XIII. as a model?"

      "Sire!" said Manicamp, with an accent of reproach.

      "You will not name him, it appears, then?" said the king.

      "Sire, I do not know him."

      "Bravo!" murmured D'Artagnan.

      "Monsieur de Manicamp, hand your sword to the captain."

      Manicamp bowed very gracefully, unbuckled his sword, smiling as he did so, and handed it for the musketeer to take. But Saint-Aignan advanced hurriedly between him and D'Artagnan. "Sire," he said, "will your majesty permit me to say a word?"

      "Do so," said the king, delighted perhaps at the bottom of his heart for some one to step between him and the wrath which he felt had carried him too far.

      "Manicamp, you

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