“Ah, very well! Introduce him, Saint-Remy—introduce him.” And when he had let fall these words, with his accustomed gravity, Monsieur turned his eyes, in a certain manner, upon the people of his suite, so that all, pages, officers, and equerries, quitted the service, knives and goblets, and made towards the second chamber door a retreat as rapid as it was disorderly. This little army had dispersed in two files when Raoul de Bragelonne, preceded by M. de Saint-Remy, entered the refectory. The short interval of solitude which this retreat had left him, permitted Monsieur the time to assume a diplomatic countenance. He did not turn round, but waited till the maitre d’hotel should bring the messenger face to face with him. Raoul stopped even with the lower end of the table, so as to be exactly between Monsieur and Madame. From this place he made a profound bow to Monsieur, and a very humble one to Madame; then, drawing himself up into military pose, he waited for Monsieur to address him. On his part the prince waited till the doors were hermetically closed; he would not turn round to ascertain the fact, as that would have been derogatory to his dignity, but he listened with all his ears for the noise of the lock, which would promise him at least an appearance of secrecy. The doors being closed, Monsieur raised his eyes towards the vicomte, and said, “It appears that you come from Paris, monsieur?” “This minute, monseigneur.” “How is the king?” “His majesty is in perfect health, monseigneur.” “And my sister-in-law?” “Her majesty the queen-mother still suffers from the complaint in her chest, but for the last month she has been rather better.” “Somebody told me you came on the part of M. le Prince. They must have been mistaken, surely?” “No, monseigneur; M. le Prince has charged me to convey this letter to your royal highness, and I am to wait for an answer to it.” Raoul had been a little annoyed by this cold and cautious reception, and his voice insensibly sank to a low key. The prince forgot that he was the cause of this apparent mystery, and his fears returned. He received the letter from the Prince de Conde with a haggard look, unsealed it as he would have unsealed a suspicious packet, and in order to read it so that no one should remark the effects of it upon his countenance, he turned round. Madame followed, with an anxiety almost equal to that of the prince, every maneuver of her august husband. Raoul, impassible, and a little disengaged by the attention of his hosts, looked from his place through the open window at the gardens and the statues which peopled them. “Well!” cried Monsieur, all at once, with a cheerful smile; “here is an agreeable surprise, and a charming letter from M. le Prince. Look, Madame!”