“Brave young man!” murmured the king.
“Well, he did remain with them; and Your Majesty has in him so firm a champion that it was he who gave Jussac the terrible sword thrust which has made the cardinal so angry.”
“He who wounded Jussac!” cried the king, “he, a boy! Tréville, that’s impossible!”
“It is as I have the honor to relate it to Your Majesty.”
“Jussac, one of the first swordsmen in the kingdom?”
“Well, sire, for once he found his master.”
“I will see this young man, Tréville—I will see him; and if anything can be done—well, we will make it our business.”
“When will Your Majesty deign to receive him?”
“Tomorrow, at midday, Tréville.”
“Shall I bring him alone?”
“No, bring me all four together. I wish to thank them all at once. Devoted men are so rare, Tréville, by the back staircase. It is useless to let the cardinal know.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You understand, Tréville—an edict is still an edict, it is forbidden to fight, after all.”
“But this encounter, sire, is quite out of the ordinary conditions of a duel. It is a brawl; and the proof is that there were five of the cardinal’s Guardsmen against my three musketeers and M. d’Artagnan.”