“Mordioux!” continued the reasoner, “these people tread upon my toes and look upon me as of very little consequence, or rather of none at all, seeing that they are Englishmen and I am a Frenchman. If all these people were asked,—‘Who is M. d’Artagnan?’ they would reply, ‘Nescio vos.’ But let any one say to them, ‘There is the king going by,’ ‘There is M. Monk going by,’ they would run away, shouting,—‘Vive le roi!’ ‘Vive M. Monk!’ till their lungs were exhausted. And yet,” continued he, surveying, with that look sometimes so keen and sometimes so proud, the diminishing crowd,—“and yet, reflect a little, my good people, on what your king has done, on what M. Monk has done, and then think what has been done by this poor unknown, who is called M. d’Artagnan! It is true you do not know him, since he is here unknown, and that prevents your thinking about the matter! But, bah! what matters it! All that does not prevent Charles II. from being a great king, although he has been exiled twelve years, or M. Monk from being a great captain, although he did make a voyage to Holland in a box. Well, then, since it is admitted that 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 of spectators, over which it sounded for a moment. Then, the better to play the devoted man, he took off his hat and waved it in the air. Some one seized his arm in the very height of his expansive royalism. (In 1660 that was so termed which we now call royalism.) “Athos!” cried D’Artagnan, “you here!” And the two friends seized each other’s hands. “You here!—and being here,” continued the musketeer, “you are not in the midst of all these courtiers my dear comte! What! you, the hero of the fete, you are not prancing on the left hand of the king, as M. Monk is prancing on the right? In truth, I cannot comprehend your character, nor that of the prince who owes you so much!” “Always scornful, my dear D’Artagnan!” said Athos. “Will you never 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, nor representative of the king of France; and it does not become me to exhibit myself thus near the person of another king than the one God has given me for a master.” “Mordioux! you came very near to the person of the king, his father.” “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 I hate all ostentation. Let King Charles II., then, who no longer stands in need of me, leave me to my rest, and in the shadow; that is all I claim of him.” D’Artagnan sighed.