“Sire, an order is given by a sign, by a gesture, by a glance, as intelligibly, as freely, and as clearly as by word of mouth. A servant who has nothing but ears is not half a good servant.” “Your eyes are very penetrating, then, monsieur.” “How is that, sire?” “Because they see what is not.” “My eyes are good, though, sire, although they have served their master long and much: when they have anything to see, they seldom miss the opportunity. Now, this evening, they saw that your majesty colored with endeavoring to conceal the inclination to yawn, that your majesty looked with eloquent supplications, first at his eminence, and then at her majesty, the queen-mother, and at length to the entrance door, and they so thoroughly remarked all I have said, that they saw your majesty’s lips articulate these words: ‘Who will get me out of this?’” “Monsieur!” “Or something to this effect, sire—‘My musketeers!’ I could then no longer hesitate. That look was for me—the order was for me. I cried out instantly, ‘His Majesty’s musketeers!’ And, besides, that was shown to be true, sire, not only by your majesty’s not saying I was wrong, but proving I was right by going out at once.” The king turned away to smile; then, after a few seconds, he again fixed his limpid eye upon that countenance, so intelligent, so bold, and so firm, that it might have been said to be the proud and energetic profile of the eagle facing the sun. “That is all very well,” said he, after a short silence, during which he endeavored, in vain, to make his officer lower his eyes. But seeing the king said no more, the latter pirouetted on his heels, and took three steps towards the door, muttering, “He will not speak! Mordioux! he will not speak!” “Thank you, monsieur,” said the king at last. “Humph!” continued the lieutenant; “there was only wanting that. Blamed for having been less of a fool than another might have been.” And he went to the door, allowing his spurs to jingle in true military style. But when he was on the threshold, feeling that the king’s desire drew him back, he returned. “Has your majesty told me all?” asked he, in a tone we cannot describe, but which, without appearing to solicit the royal confidence, contained so much persuasive frankness, that the king immediately replied: “Yes, but draw near, monsieur.” “Now then,” murmured the officer, “he is coming to it at last.” “Listen to me.” “I shall not lose a word, sire.” “You will mount on horseback to-morrow, at about half-past four in the morning, and you will have a horse saddled for me.” “From your majesty’s stables?” “No, one of your musketeers’ horses.” “Very well, sire. Is that all?” “And you will accompany me.” “Alone?” “Alone.” “Shall I come to seek your majesty, or shall I wait?” “You will wait for me.” “Where, sire?” “At the little park-gate.”