_contrepartie_ of the play in which Monk should take his revenge.  The
part of the king would be confined to simply pardoning the viceroy of
Ireland all he should undertake against D'Artagnan.  Nothing more was
necessary to place the conscience of the Duke of Albemarle at rest than
a _te absolvo_ said with a laugh, or the scrawl of "Charles the King,"
traced at the foot of a parchment; and with these two words pronounced,
and these two words written, poor D'Artagnan was forever crushed beneath
the ruins of his imagination.

And then, a thing sufficiently disquieting for a man with such foresight
as our musketeer, he found himself alone; and even the friendship of
Athos could not restore his confidence.  Certainly if the affair had only
concerned a free distribution of sword-thrusts, the musketeer would have
counted upon his companion; but in delicate dealings with a king, when
the _perhaps_ of an unlucky chance should arise in justification of Monk
or of Charles of England, D'Artagnan knew Athos well enough to be sure he
would give the best possible coloring to the loyalty of the survivor, and
would content himself with shedding floods of tears on the tomb of the
dead, supposing the dead to be his friend, and afterwards composing his
epitaph in the most pompous superlatives.

"Decidedly," thought the Gascon; and this thought was the result of the
reflections which he had just whispered to himself and which we have
repeated aloud - "decidedly, I must be reconciled with M. Monk, and
acquire proof of his perfect indifference for the past.  If, and God
forbid it should be so! he is still sulky and reserved in the expression
of this sentiment, I shall give my money to Athos to take away with him,
and remain in England just long enough to unmask him, then, as I have a
quick eye and a light foot, I shall notice the first hostile sign; to
decamp or conceal myself at the residence of my lord Buckingham, who
seems a good sort of devil at the bottom, and to whom, in return for his
hospitality, I shall relate all that history of the diamonds, which can
now compromise nobody but an old queen, who need not be ashamed, after
being the wife of a miserly creature like Mazarin, of having formerly
been the mistress of a handsome nobleman like Buckingham.  _Mordioux!_
that is the thing, and this Monk shall not get the better of me.  Eh?
and besides I have an idea!"

We know that, in general, D'Artagnan was not wanting in ideas; and during
this soliloquy, D'Artagnan buttoned his vest up to the chin, and nothing
excited his imagination like this preparation for a combat of any kind,
called _accinction_ by the Romans.  He was quite heated when he reached the
mansion of the Duke of Albemarle.  He was introduced to the viceroy with
a promptitude which proved that he was considered as one of the
household.  Monk was in his business-closet.

"My lord," said D'Artagnan, with that expression of frankness which the
Gascon knew so well how to assume, "my lord, I have come to ask your
grace's advice!"

Monk, as closely buttoned up morally as his antagonist was physically,
replied: "Ask, my friend;" and his countenance presented an expression
not less open than that of D'Artagnan.

"My lord, in the first place, promise me secrecy and indulgence."

"I promise you all you wish.  What is the matter?  Speak!"

"It is, my lord, that I am not quite pleased with the king."

"Indeed!  And on what account, my dear lieutenant?"

"Because his majesty gives way sometimes to jests very compromising for
his servants; and jesting, my lord, is a weapon that seriously wounds men
of the sword, as we are."

Monk did all in his power not to betray his thought, but D'Artagnan
watched him with too close attention not to detect an almost
imperceptible flush upon his face.  "Well, now, for my part," said he,
with the most natural air possible, "I am not an enemy of jesting, my
dear Monsieur d'Artagnan; my soldiers will tell you that even many times
in camp, I listened very indifferently, and with a certain pleasure, to
the satirical songs which the army of Lambert passed into mine, and
which, certainly, would have caused the ears of a general more
susceptible than I am to tingle."

"Oh, my lord," said D'Artagnan, "I know you are a complete man; I know
you have been, for a long time, placed above human miseries; but there
are jests and jests of a certain kind, which have the power of irritating
me beyond expression."

"May I inquire what kind, my friend?"

"Such as are directed against my friends or against people I respect, my
lord!"

Monk made a slight movement, which D'Artagnan perceived.  "Eh! and in
what," asked Monk, "in what can the stroke of a pin which scratches
another tickle your skin?  Answer me that."

"My lord, I can explain it to you in a single sentence; it concerns you."

Monk advanced a single step towards D'Artagnan.  "Concerns me?" said he.

"Yes, and this is what I cannot explain; but that arises, perhaps, from
my want of knowledge of his character.  How can the king have the heart
to jest about a man who has rendered him so many and such great
services?  How can one understand that he should amuse himself in setting
by the ears a lion like you with a gnat like me?"

"I cannot conceive that in any way," said Monk.

"But so it is.  The king, who owed me a reward, might have rewarded me as
a soldier, without contriving that history of the ransom, which affects
you, my lord."

"No," said Monk, laughing: "it does not affect me in any way, I can
assure you."

"Not as regards me, I can understand; you know me, my lord, I am so
discreet that the grave would appear a babbler compared to me; but - do
you understand, my lord?"

"No," replied Monk, with persistent obstinacy.

"If another knew the secret which I know - "

"What secret?"

"Eh! my lord, why, that unfortunate secret of Newcastle."

"Oh! the million of the Comte de la Fere?"

"No, my lord, no; the enterprise made upon your grace's person."

"It was well played, chevalier, that is all, and no more is to be said
about it: you are a soldier, both brave and cunning, which proves that
you unite the qualities of Fabius and Hannibal.  You employed your means,
force and cunning: there is nothing to be said against that: I ought to
have been on guard."

"Ah! yes; I know, my lord, and I expected nothing less from your
partiality; so that if it were only the abduction in itself, _Mordioux!_
that would be nothing; but there are - "

"What?"

"The circumstances of that abduction."

"What circumstances?"

"Oh! you know very well what I mean, my lord."

"No, curse me if I do."

"There is - in truth, it is difficult to speak it."

"There is?"

"Well, there is that devil of a box!"

Monk colored visibly.  "Well, I have forgotten it."

"Deal box," continued D'Artagnan, "with holes for the nose and mouth.  In
truth, my lord, all the rest was well; but the box, the box! that was
really a coarse joke."  Monk fidgeted about in his chair.  "And,
notwithstanding my having done that," resumed D'Artagnan, "I, a soldier
of fortune, it was quite simple, because by the side of that action, a
little inconsiderate I admit, which I committed, but which the gravity of
the case may excuse, I am circumspect and reserved."

"Oh!" said Monk, "believe me, I know you well, Monsieur d'Artagnan, and I
appreciate you."

D'Artagnan never took his eyes off Monk; studying all which passed in the
mind of the general, as he prosecuted _his idea_.  "But it does not
concern me," resumed he.

"Well, then, who does it concern?" said Monk, who began to grow a little
impatient.

"It relates to the king, who will never restrain his tongue."

"Well! and suppose he should say all he knows?" said Monk, with a degree
of hesitation.

"My lord," replied D'Artagnan, "do not dissemble, I implore you, with a
man who speaks so frankly as I do.  You have a right to feel your
susceptibility excited, however benignant it may be.  What, the devil! it
is not the place for a man like you, a man who plays with crowns and
scepters as a Bohemian plays with his balls; it is not the place of a
serious man, I said, to be shut up in a box like some freak of natural
history; for you must understand it would make all your enemies ready to
burst with laughter, and you are so great, so noble, so generous, that
you must have many enemies.  This secret is enough to set half the human
race laughing, if you were represented in that box.  It is not decent to
have the second personage in the kingdom laughed at."

Monk was quite out of countenance at the idea of seeing himself
represented in this box.  Ridicule, as D'Artagnan had judiciously
foreseen, acted upon him in a manner which neither the chances of war,
the aspirations of ambition, nor the fear of death had been able to do.

"Good," thought the Gascon, "he is frightened: I am safe."

"Oh! as to the king," said Monk, "fear nothing, my dear Monsieur
d'Artagnan; the king will not jest with Monk, I assure you!"

The momentary flash of his eye was noticed by D'Artagnan.  Monk lowered
his tone immediately: "The king," continued he, "is of too noble a
nature, the king's heart is too high to allow him to wish ill to those
who do him good."

"Oh! certainly," cried D'Artagnan.  "I am entirely of your grace's
opinion with regard to his heart, but not as to his head - it is good,
but it is trifling."

"The king will not trifle with Monk, be assured."

"Then you are quite at ease, my lord?"

"On that side, at least! yes, perfectly!"

"Oh!  I understand you; you are at ease as far as the king is concerned?"

"I have told you I was."

"But you are not so much so on my account?"

"I thought I had told you that I had faith in your loyalty and
discretion."

"No doubt, no doubt, but you must remember one thing - "

"What is that?"

"That I was not alone, that I had companions; and what companions!"

"Oh! yes, I know them."

"And, unfortunately, my lord, they know you, too!"

"Well?"

"Well; they are yonder, at Boulogne, waiting for me."

"And you fear - "

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