The King placed it against the wall. In so doing, he fixed the lower end upon the abdomen of a man who lay concealed by the wall. The man did not utter a cry or wince. The King suspected nothing. He ascended the ladder. The ladder was too short. Louis the Grand was not a tall man. He was still two feet below the window. “Dear me!” said the King. Suddenly the ladder was lifted two feet from below. This enabled the King to leap in the window. At the farther end of the apartment stood a young girl, with red hair and a lame leg. She was trembling with emotion. “Louise!” “The King!” “Ah, my God, mademoiselle.” “Ah, my God, sire.” But a low knock at the door interrupted the lovers. The King uttered a cry of rage; Louise one of despair. The door opened and D’Artagnan entered. “Good-evening, sire,” said the musketeer. The King touched a bell. Porthos appeared in the doorway. “Good-evening, sire.” “Arrest M. D’Artagnan.” Porthos looked at D’Artagnan, and did not move. The King almost turned purple with rage. He again touched the bell. Athos entered. “Count, arrest Porthos and D’Artagnan.” The Count de la Fere glanced at Porthos and D’Artagnan, and smiled sweetly. “Sacre! Where is Aramis?” said the King violently. “Here, sire,” and Aramis entered. “Arrest Athos, Porthos, and D’Artagnan.” Aramis bowed and folded his arms. “Arrest yourself!” Aramis did not move. The King shuddered and turned pale. “Am I not King of France?” “Assuredly, sire, but we are also, severally, Porthos, Aramis, D’Artagnan, and Athos.” “Ah!” said the King. “Yes, sire.” “What does this mean?” “It means, your Majesty,” said Aramis, stepping forward, “that your conduct as a married man is highly improper. I am an abbe, and I object to these improprieties. My friends here, D’Artagnan, Athos, and Porthos, pure-minded young men, are also terribly shocked. Observe, sire, how they blush!” Athos, Porthos, and D’Artagnan blushed. “Ah,” said the King thoughtfully. “You teach me a lesson. You are devoted and noble young gentlemen, but your only weakness is your excessive modesty. From this moment I make you all marshals and dukes, with the exception of Aramis.” “And me, sire?” said Aramis. “You shall be an archbishop!” The four friends looked up and then rushed into each other’s arms. The King embraced Louise de la Valliere, by way of keeping them company. A pause ensued. At last Athos spoke,— “Swear, my children, that, next to yourselves, you will respect—the King of France; and remember that ‘Forty years after’ we will meet again.” MISS MIX BY CH-L-TTE BR-NTE CHAPTER I