“That is best,” said the king. “Send the case before the judges; it is their business to judge, and they shall judge.” “Only,” replied Tréville, “it is a sad thing that in the unfortunate times in which we live, the purest life, the most incontestable virtue, cannot exempt a man from infamy and persecution. The army, I will answer for it, will be but little pleased at being exposed to rigorous treatment on account of police affairs.” The expression was imprudent; but M. de Tréville launched it with knowledge of his cause. He was desirous of an explosion, because in that case the mine throws forth fire, and fire enlightens. “Police affairs!” cried the king, taking up Tréville’s words, “police affairs! And what do you know about them, Monsieur? Meddle with your Musketeers, and do not annoy me in this way. It appears, according to your account, that if by mischance a Musketeer is arrested, France is in danger. What a noise about a Musketeer! I would arrest ten of them, _ventrebleu_, a hundred, even, all the company, and I would not allow a whisper.” “From the moment they are suspected by your Majesty,” said Tréville, “the Musketeers are guilty; therefore, you see me prepared to surrender my sword—for after having accused my soldiers, there can be no doubt that Monsieur the Cardinal will end by accusing me. It is best to constitute myself at once a prisoner with Athos, who is already arrested, and with D’Artagnan, who most probably will be.” “Gascon-headed man, will you have done?” said the king. “Sire,” replied Tréville, without lowering his voice in the least, “either order my Musketeer to be restored to me, or let him be tried.” “He shall be tried,” said the cardinal. “Well, so much the better; for in that case I shall demand of his Majesty permission to plead for him.” The king feared an outbreak. “If his Eminence,” said he, “did not have personal motives—” The cardinal saw what the king was about to say and interrupted him: “Pardon me,” said he; “but the instant your Majesty considers me a prejudiced judge, I withdraw.” “Come,” said the king, “will you swear, by my father, that Athos was at your residence during the event and that he took no part in it?” “By your glorious father, and by yourself, whom I love and venerate above all the world, I swear it.” “Be so kind as to reflect, sire,” said the cardinal. “If we release the prisoner thus, we shall never know the truth.” “Athos may always be found,” replied Tréville, “ready to answer, when it shall please the gownsmen to interrogate him. He will not desert, Monsieur the Cardinal, be assured of that; I will answer for him.” “No, he will not desert,” said the king; “he can always be found, as Tréville says. Besides,” added he, lowering his voice and looking with a suppliant air at the cardinal, “let us give them apparent security; that is policy.” This policy of Louis XIII. made Richelieu smile. “Order it as you please, sire; you possess the right of pardon.”