The king of England made his entree into Dover with greatpomp, as he afterwards did in London. He had sent for hisbrothers; he had brought over his mother and sister. Englandhad been for so long a time given up to herself - that isto say, to tyranny, mediocrity, and nonsense - that thisreturn of Charles II., whom the English only knew as the sonof the man whose head they had cut off, was a festival forthe three kingdoms. Consequently, all the good wishes, allthe acclamations which accompanied his return, struck theyoung king so forcibly that he stooped and whispered in theear of James of York, his younger brother, "In truth, James,it seems to have been our own fault that we were so longabsent from a country where we are so much beloved!" Thepageant was magnificent. Beautiful weather favored thesolemnity. Charles had regained all his youth, all his goodhumor; he appeared to be transfigured; hearts seemed tosmile on him like the sun. Amongst this noisy crowd ofcourtiers and worshippers, who did not appear to rememberthey had conducted to the scaffold at Whitehall the fatherof the new king, a man, in the garb of a lieutenant ofmusketeers, looked, with a smile upon his thin, intellectuallips, sometimes at the people vociferating their blessings,and sometimes at the prince, who pretended emotion, and whobowed most particularly to the women, whose bouquets fellbeneath his horse's feet.

"What a fine trade is that of king!" said this man, socompletely absorbed in contemplation that he stopped in themiddle of his road, leaving the cortege to file past. "Now,there is, in good truth, a prince all bespangled over withgold and diamonds, enamelled with flowers like a springmeadow; he is about to plunge his empty hands into theimmense coffer in which his now faithful - but so latelyunfaithful - subjects have amassed one or two cartloads ofingots of gold. They cast bouquets enough upon him tosmother him; and yet, if he had presented himself to themtwo months ago, they would have sent as many bullets andballs at him as they now throw flowers. Decidedly it isworth something to be born in a certain sphere, with duerespect to the lowly, who pretend that it is of very littleadvantage to them to be born lowly." The cortege continuedto file on, and, with the king, the acclamations began todie away in the direction of the palace which, however, didnot prevent our officer from being pushed about.

"Mordioux!" continued the reasoner, "these people tread uponmy toes and look upon me as of very little consequence, orrather of none at all, seeing that they are Englishmen and Iam a Frenchman. If all these people were asked, - `Who isM. d'Artagnan?' they would reply, `Nescio vos.' But let anyone say to them, `There is the king going by,' `There is M.Monk going by,' they would run away, shouting, - `Vive leroi!' `Vive M. Monk!' till their lungs were exhausted. Andyet," continued he, surveying, with that look sometimes sokeen and sometimes so proud, the diminishing crowd, - "andyet, reflect a little, my good people, on what your king hasdone, on what M. Monk has done, and then think what has beendone by this poor unknown, who is called M. d'Artagnan! Itis true you do not know him, since he is here unknown, andthat prevents your thinking about the matter! But, bah! whatmatters it! All that does not prevent Charles II. from beinga great king, although he has been exiled twelve years, orM. Monk from being a great captain, although he did make avoyage to Holland in a box. Well, then, since it is admittedthat one is a great king and the other a great captain, - `Hurrah for King Charles II.! - Hurrah for General Monk!'"And his voice mingled with the voices of the hundreds ofspectators, over which it sounded for a moment. Then, thebetter to play the devoted man, he took off his hat andwaved it in the air. Some one seized his arm in the veryheight of his expansive royalism. (In 1660 that was sotermed which we now call royalism.)

"Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, "you here!" And the two friendsseized each other's hands.

"You here! - and being here," continued the musketeer, "youare not in the midst of all these courtiers my dear comte!What! you, the hero of the fete, you are not prancing on theleft hand of the king, as M. Monk is prancing on the right?In truth, I cannot comprehend your character, nor that ofthe prince who owes you so much!"

"Always scornful, my dear D'Artagnan!" said Athos. "Will younever correct yourself of that vile habit?"

"But, you do not form part of the pageant?"

"I do not, because I was not willing to do so."

"And why were you not willing?"

"Because I am neither envoy nor ambassador, norrepresentative of the king of France; and it does not becomeme to exhibit myself thus near the person of another kingthan the one God has given me for a master."

"Mordioux! you came very near to the person of the king, hisfather."

"That was another thing, my friend; he was about to die."

"And yet that which you did for him - - "

"I did it because it was my duty to do it. But you know Ihate all ostentation. Let King Charles II., then, who nolonger stands in need of me, leave me to my rest, and in theshadow; that is all I claim of him."

D'Artagnan sighed.

"What is the matter with you?" said Athos. "One would saythat this happy return of the king to London saddens you, myfriend; you who have done at least as much for his majestyas I have."

"Have I not," replied D'Artagnan, with his Gascon laugh,"have I not done much for his majesty, without any onesuspecting it?"

"Yes, yes, but the king is well aware of it my friend,"cried Athos.

"He is aware of it!" said the musketeer bitterly. "By myfaith! I did not suspect so, and I was even a moment agotrying to forget it myself."

"But he, my friend, will not forget it, I will answer forhim."

"You tell me that to console me a little, Athos."

"For what?"

"Mordioux! for all the expense I incurred. I have ruinedmyself, my friend, ruined myself for the restoration of thisyoung prince who has just passed, cantering on his isabellecolored horse."

"The king does not know you have ruined yourself, my friend,but he knows he owes you much."

"And say, Athos, does that advance me in any respect? for,to do you justice, you have labored nobly. But I - I, whoin appearance marred your combinations, it was I who reallymade them succeed. Follow my calculations; closely, youmight not have, by persuasions or mildness convinced GeneralMonk, whilst I so roughly treated this dear general, that Ifurnished your prince with an opportunity of showing himselfgenerous: this generosity was inspired in him by the fact ofmy fortunate mistake, and Charles is paid by the restorationwhich Monk has brought about."

"All that, my dear friend, is strikingly true," repliedAthos.

"Well, strikingly true as it may be, it is not less true, myfriend, that I shall return - greatly beloved by M. Monk,who calls me dear captain all day long, although I amneither dear to him nor a captain; - and much appreciatedby the king, who has already forgotten my name; - it is notless true, I say, that I shall return to my beautifulcountry, cursed by the soldiers I had raised with the hopesof large pay, cursed by the brave Planchet, of whom Iborrowed a part of his fortune."

"How is that? What the devil had Planchet to do in allthis?"

"Ah, yes, my friend, but this king, so spruce, so smiling,so adored, M. Monk fancies he has recalled him, you fancyyou have supported him, I fancy I have brought him back, thepeople fancy they have reconquered him, he himself fancieshe has negotiated his restoration; and yet nothing of allthis is true, for Charles II., king of England, Scotland,and Ireland, has been replaced upon the throne by a Frenchgrocer, who lives in the Rue des Lombards, and is namedPlanchet. And such is grandeur! `Vanity!' says theScripture: `vanity, all is vanity.'"

Athos could not help laughing at this whimsical outbreak ofhis friend.

"My dear D'Artagnan," said he, pressing his handaffectionately, "should you not exercise a little morephilosophy? Is it not some further satisfaction to you tohave saved my life as you did by arriving so fortunatelywith Monk, when those damned parliamentarians wanted to burnme alive?"

"Well, but you, in some degree, deserved a little burning,my friend."

"How so? What, for having saved King Charles's million?"

"What million?"

"Ah, that is true! you never knew that, my friend; but youmust not be angry, for it was not my secret. That word`Remember' which the king pronounced upon the scaffold."

"And which means `souviens-toi!'"

"Exactly. That was signified. `Remember there is a millionburied in the vaults of Newcastle Abbey, and that thatmillion belongs to my son.'"

"Ah! very well, I understand. But what I understandlikewise, and what is very frightful, is, that every timehis majesty Charles II. will think of me, he will say tohimself: `There is the man who came very near making me losemy crown. Fortunately I was generous, great, full ofpresence of mind.' That will be said by the young gentlemanin a shabby black doublet, who came to the chateau of Blois,hat in hand, to ask me if I would give him access to theking of France."

"D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" said Athos, laying his hand on theshoulder of the musketeer, "you are unjust."

"I have a right to be so."

"No - for you are ignorant of the future."

D'Artagnan looked his friend full in the face, and began tolaugh. "In truth, my dear Athos," said he, "you have somesayings so superb, that they only belong to you and M. leCardinal Mazarin."

Athos frowned slightly.

"I beg your pardon," continued D'Artagnan, laughing, "I begyour pardon, if I have offended you. The future! Nein! whatpretty words are words that promise, and how well they fillthe mouth in default of other things! Mordioux! After havingmet with so many who promised, when shall I find one whowill give? But, let that pass!" continued D'Artagnan. "Whatare you doing here, my dear Athos? Are you the king'streasurer?"

"How - why the king's treasurer?"

"Well, since the king possesses a million, he must want atreasurer. The king of France, although he is not worth asou, has still a superintendent of finance, M. Fouquet. Itis true that, in exchange, M. Fouquet, they say, has a goodnumber of millions of his own."

"Oh! our million was spent long ago," said Athos, laughingin his turn.

"I understand, it was frittered away in satin, preciousstones, velvet, and feathers of all sorts and colors. Allthese princes and princesses stood in great need of tailorsand dressmakers. Eh! Athos, do you remember what we fellowsspent in equipping ourselves for the campaign of LaRochelle, and to make our appearance on horseback? Two orthree thousand livres, by my faith! But a king's robe ismore ample; it would require a million to purchase thestuff. At least, Athos, if you are not treasurer, you are ona good footing at court."

"By the faith of a gentleman, I know nothing about it," saidAthos, simply.

"What! you know nothing about it?"

"No! I have not seen the king since we left Dover."

"Then he has forgotten you, too! Mordioux! That isshameful!"

"His majesty has had so much business to transact."

"Oh!" cried D'Artagnan, with one of those intelligentgrimaces which he alone knew how to make, "that is enough tomake me recover my love for Monseigneur Giulio Mazarini.What, Athos the king has not seen you since then?"

"No."

"And you are not furious?"

"I! Why should I be? Do you imagine, my dear D'Artagnan,that it was on the king's account I acted as I have done? Idid not know the young man. I defended the father, whorepresented a principle - sacred in my eyes, and I allowedmyself to be drawn towards the son from sympathy for thissame principle. Besides, he was a worthy knight, a noblecreature, that father: do you remember him?"

"Yes; that is true; he was a brave, an excellent man, wholed a sad life, but made a fine end."

"Well, my dear D'Artagnan, understand this; to that king, tothat man of heart, to that friend of my thoughts, if I durstventure to say so, I swore at the last hour to preservefaithfully the secret of a deposit which was to betransmitted to his son, to assist him in his hour of need.This young man came to me; he described his destitution; hewas ignorant that he was anything to me save a living memoryof his father. I have accomplished towards Charles II. whatI promised Charles I.; that is all! Of what consequence isit to me, then, whether he be grateful or not? It is tomyself I have rendered a service, by relieving myself ofthis responsibility, and not to him."

"Well, I have always said," replied D'Artagnan, with a sigh,"that disinterestedness was the finest thing in the world."

"Well, and you, my friend," resumed Athos, "are you not inthe same situation as myself? If I have properly understoodyour words, you allowed yourself to be affected by themisfortunes of this young man; that, on your part, was muchgreater than it was upon mine, for I had a duty to fulfill,whilst you were under no obligation to the son of themartyr. You had not, on your part, to pay him the price ofthat precious drop of blood which he let fall upon my brow,through the floor of his scaffold. That which made you actwas heart alone - the noble and good heart which youpossess beneath your apparent skepticism and sarcasticirony; you have engaged the fortune of a servitor, and yourown, I suspect, my benevolent miser! and your sacrifice isnot acknowledged! Of what consequence is it? You wish torepay Planchet his money. I can comprehend that, my friend:for it is not becoming in a gentleman to borrow from hisinferior, without returning to him principal and interest.Well, I will sell La Fere if necessary, and if not, somelittle farm. You shall pay Planchet, and there will beenough, believe me, of corn left in my granaries for us twoand Raoul. In this way, my friend, you will be underobligations to nobody but yourself, and, if I know you well,it will not be a small satisfaction to your mind to be ableto say, `I have made a king!' Am I right?"

"Athos! Athos!" murmured D'Artagnan, thoughtfully, "I havetold you more than once that the day on which you willpreach I shall attend the sermon; the day on which you willtell me there is a hell - Mordioux! I shall be afraid ofthe gridiron and the pitchforks. You are better than I, orrather, better than anybody, and I only acknowledge thepossession of one quality, and that is, of not beingjealous. Except that defect, damme, as the English say, if Ihave not all the rest."

"I know no one equal to D'Artagnan," replied Athos; "buthere we are, having quietly reached the house I inhabit.Will you come in, my friend?"

"Eh! why, this is the tavern of the Corne du Cerf, I think,"said D'Artagnan.

"I confess I chose it on purpose. I like old acquaintances;I like to sit down on that place, whereon I sank, overcomeby fatigue, overwhelmed with despair, when you returned onthe 31st of January."

"After having discovered the abode of the maskedexecutioner? Yes, that was a terrible day!"

"Come in, then," said Athos, interrupting him.

They entered the large apartment, formerly the common one.The tavern, in general, and this room in particular, hadundergone great changes; the ancient host of the musketeers,having become tolerably rich for an innkeeper, had closedhis shop, and made of this room of which we were speaking, astore-room for colonial provisions. As for the rest of thehouse, he let it ready furnished to strangers. It was withunspeakable emotion D'Artagnan recognized all the furnitureof the chamber of the first story; the wainscoting, thetapestries, and even that geographical chart which Porthoshad so fondly studied in his moments of leisure.

"It is eleven years ago," cried D'Artagnan. "Mordioux! itappears to me a century!"

"And to me but a day," said Athos. "Imagine the joy Iexperience, my friend, in seeing you there, in pressing yourhand, in casting from me sword and dagger, and tastingwithout mistrust this glass of sherry. And, oh! what stillfurther joy it would be, if our two friends were there, atthe two corners of the tables, and Raoul, my beloved Raoul,on the threshold, looking at us with his large eyes, at onceso brilliant and so soft!"

"Yes, yes," said D'Artagnan, much affected, "that is true. Iapprove particularly of the first part of your thought; itis very pleasant to smile there where we have solegitimately shuddered in thinking that from one moment toanother M. Mordaunt might appear upon the landing."

At this moment the door opened, and D'Artagnan, brave as hewas, could not restrain a slight movement of fright. Athosunderstood him, and, smiling, -

"It is our host," said he, "bringing me a letter."

"Yes, my lord," said the good man; "here is a letter foryour honor."

"Thank you," said Athos, taking the letter without lookingat it. "Tell me, my dear host, if you do not remember thisgentleman?"

The old man raised his head, and looked attentively atD'Artagnan.

"No," said he.

"It is," said Athos, "one of those friends of whom I havespoken to you, and who lodged here with me eleven yearsago."

"Oh! but," said the old man, "so many strangers have lodgedhere!"

"But we lodged here on the 30th of January, 1649," addedAthos, believing he should stimulate the lazy memory of thehost by this remark.

"That is very possible," replied he, smiling; "but it is solong ago!" and he bowed, and went out.

"Thank you," said D'Artagnan - "perform exploits,accomplish revolutions, endeavor to engrave your name instone or bronze with strong swords! there is something morerebellious, more hard, more forgetful than iron, bronze, orstone, and that is, the brain of a lodging-house keeper whohas grown rich in the trade, - he does not know me! Well, Ishould have known him, though."

Athos, smiling at his friend's philosophy, unsealed hisletter.

"Ah!" said he, "a letter from Parry."

"Oh! oh!" said D'Artagnan; "read it, my friend, read it! Nodoubt it contains news."

Athos shook his head, and read:

Monsieur le Comte. - The king has experienced much regretat not seeing you to-day beside him, at his entrance. Hismajesty commands me to say so, and to recall him to yourmemory. His majesty will expect you this evening, at thepalace of St. James, between nine and ten o'clock.

"I am, respectfully, monsieur le comte, your honor's veryhumble and very obedient servant, - Parry."

"You see, my dear D'Artagnan," said Athos, "we must notdespair of the hearts of kings."

"Not despair! you are right to say so!" replied D'Artagnan.

"Oh! my dear, very dear friend," resumed Athos, whom thealmost imperceptible bitterness of D'Artagnan had notescaped. "Pardon me! can I have unintentionally wounded mybest comrade?"

"You are mad, Athos, and to prove it, I shall conduct you tothe palace; to the very gate, I mean; the walk will do megood."

"You shall go in with me, my friend; I will speak to hismajesty."

"No, no!" replied D'Artagnan, with true pride, free from allmixture; "if there is anything worse than begging yourself,it is making others beg for you. Come, let us go, my friend,the walk will be charming; on the way I shall show you thehouse of M. Monk, who has detained me with him. A beautifulhouse, by my faith. Being a general in England is betterthan being a marechal in France, please to know."

Athos allowed himself to be led along, quite saddened byD'Artagnan's forced attempts at gayety. The whole city wasin a state of joy; the two friends were jostled at everymoment by enthusiasts who required them, in theirintoxication, to cry out, "Long live good King Charles!"D'Artagnan replied by a grunt, and Athos by a smile. Theyarrived thus in front of Monk's house, before which, as wehave said, they had to pass on their way to St. James's.

Athos and D'Artagnan said but little on the road, for thesimple reason that they would have had so many things totalk about if they had spoken. Athos thought that byspeaking he should evince satisfaction, and that might woundD'Artagnan. The latter feared that in speaking he shouldallow some little bitterness to steal into his words whichwould render his company unpleasant to his friend. It was asingular emulation of silence between contentment andill-humor. D'Artagnan gave way first to that itching at thetip of his tongue which he so habitually experienced.

"Do you remember, Athos," said he, "the passage of the`Memoires de D'Aubigny,' in which that devoted servant, aGascon like myself, poor as myself, and, I was going to add,brave as myself, relates instances of the meanness of HenryIV.? My father always told me, I remember, that D'Aubignywas a liar. But, nevertheless, examine how all the princes,the issue of the great Henry, keep up the character of therace."

"Nonsense!" said Athos, "the kings of France misers? You aremad, my friend."

"Oh! you are so perfect yourself, you never agree to thefaults of others. But, in reality, Henry IV. was covetous,Louis XIII., his son, was so likewise; we know something ofthat, don't we? Gaston carried this vice to exaggeration,and has made himself, in this respect, hated by all whosurround him. Henriette, poor woman, might well beavaricious, she who did not eat every day, and could notwarm herself every winter; and that is an example she hasgiven to her son Charles II., grandson of the great HenryIV., who is as covetous as his mother and his grandfather.See if I have well traced the genealogy of the misers?"

"D'Artagnan, my friend," cried Athos, "you are very rudetowards that eagle race called the Bourbons."

"Eh! and I have forgotten the best instance of all - theother grandson of the Bearnais, Louis XIV., my ex-master.Well, I hope he is miserly enough, he who would not lend amillion to his brother Charles! Good! I see you arebeginning to be angry. Here we are, by good luck, close tomy house, or rather to that of my friend, M. Monk."

"My dear D'Artagnan, you do not make me angry, you make mesad; it is cruel, in fact, to see a man of your deserts outof the position his services ought to have acquired; itappears to me, my dear friend, that your name is as radiantas the greatest names in war and diplomacy. Tell me if theLuynes, the Ballegardes, and the Bassompierres have merited,as we have, fortunes and honors? You are right, my friend, ahundred times right."

D'Artagnan sighed, and preceded his friend under the porchof the mansion Monk inhabited, at the extremity of the city."Permit me," said he, "to leave my purse at home; for if inthe crowd those clever pickpockets of London, who are muchboasted of, even in Paris, were to steal from me theremainder of my poor crowns, I should not be able to returnto France. Now, content I left France, and wild with joy Ishould return to it, seeing that all my prejudices of formerdays against England have returned, accompanied by manyothers."

Athos made no reply.

"So then, my dear friend, one second, and I will followyou," said D'Artagnan. "I know you are in a hurry to goyonder to receive your reward, but, believe me, I am notless eager to partake of your joy, although from a distance.Wait for me." And D'Artagnan was already passing through thevestibule, when a man, half servant, half soldier, whofilled in Monk's establishment the double functions ofporter and guard, stopped our musketeer, saying to him inEnglish:

"I beg your pardon, my Lord d'Artagnan!"

"Well," replied the latter: "what is it? Is the generalgoing to dismiss me? I only needed to be expelled by him."

These words, spoken in French, made no impression upon theperson to whom they were addressed and who himself onlyspoke an English mixed with the rudest Scotch. But Athos wasgrieved at them, for he began to think D'Artagnan was notwrong.

The Englishman showed D'Artagnan a letter: "From thegeneral," said he.

"Aye! that's it, my dismissal!" replied the Gascon. "Must Iread it, Athos?"

"You must be deceived," said Athos, "or I know no morehonest people in the world but you and myself."

D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and unsealed the letter,while the impassible Englishman held for him a largelantern, by the light of which he was enabled to read it.

"Well, what is the matter?" said Athos, seeing thecountenance of the reader change.

"Read it yourself," said the musketeer.

Athos took the paper and read:

Monsieur d'Artagnan. - The king regrets very much you didnot come to St. Paul's with his cortege. He missed you, as Ialso have missed you, my dear captain. There is but onemeans of repairing all this. His majesty expects me at nineo'clock at the palace of St. James's: will you be there atthe same time with me? His gracious majesty appoints thathour for an audience he grants you."

This letter was from Monk.