“Because it is my wish you should not!” said the young prince, in a voice so stern and imperious that D’Artagnan evinced surprise and even uneasiness. “Will your majesty allow me one word of reply?” said he. “Speak.” “I formed that resolution when I was poor and destitute.” “So be it. Go on.” “Now, when by my energy I have acquired a comfortable means of subsistence, would your majesty despoil me of my liberty? Your majesty would condemn me to the lowest, when I have gained the highest?” “Who gave you permission, monsieur to fathom my designs, or to reckon with me?” replied Louis, in a voice almost angry; “who told you what I shall do or what you will yourself do?” “Sire,” said the musketeer, quietly, “as far as I see, freedom is not the order of the conversation, as it was on the day we came to an explanation at Blois.” “No, monsieur; everything is changed.” “I tender your majesty my sincere compliments upon that, but——” “But you don’t believe it?” “I am not a great statesman, and yet I have my eye upon affairs; it seldom fails; now, I do not see exactly as your majesty does, sire. The reign of Mazarin is over, but that of the financiers is begun. They have the money; your majesty will not often see much of it. To live under the paw of these hungry wolves is hard for a man who reckoned upon independence.” At this moment some one scratched at the door of the cabinet; the king raised his head proudly. “Your pardon, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said he; “it is M. Colbert, who comes to make me a report. Come in M. Colbert.” D’Artagnan drew back. Colbert entered with papers in his hand, and went up to the king. There can be little doubt that the Gascon did not lose the opportunity of applying his keen, quick glance to the new figure which presented itself. “Is the inquiry made?” “Yes, sire.” “And the opinion of the inquisitors?” “Is that the accused merit confiscation and death.” “Ah! ah!” said the king, without changing countenance, and casting an oblique look at D’Artagnan. “And your own opinion, M. Colbert?” said he. Colbert looked at D’Artagnan in his turn. That imposing countenance checked the words upon his lips. Louis perceived this. “Do not disturb yourself,” said he; “it is M. d’Artagnan,—do you not know M. d’Artagnan again?” These two men looked at each other—D’Artagnan, with eyes open and bright as the day—Colbert, with his half closed, and dim. The frank intrepidity of the one annoyed the other; the circumspection of the financier disgusted the soldier. “Ah! ah! this is the gentleman who made that brilliant stroke in England,” said Colbert. And he bowed slightly to D’Artagnan. “Ah! ah!” said the Gascon, “this is the gentleman who clipped off the lace from the uniform of the Swiss! A praiseworthy piece of economy.” The financier thought to pierce the musketeer; but the musketeer ran the financier through.