“Quick, quick, D’Artagnan. Remember that the queen awaits you, and after the queen, the cardinal, and after the cardinal, myself.” D’Artagnan summoned Anne of Austria’s servant and signified that he was ready to follow him into the queen’s presence. The servant conducted him by the Rue des Petits Champs and turning to the left entered the little garden gate leading into the Rue Richelieu; then they gained the private staircase and D’Artagnan was ushered into the oratory. A certain emotion, for which he could not account, made the lieutenant’s heart beat: he had no longer the assurance of youth; experience had taught him the importance of past events. Formerly he would have approached the queen as a young man who bends before a woman; but now it was a different thing; he answered her summons as an humble soldier obeys an illustrious general. The silence of the oratory was at last disturbed by the slight rustling of silk, and D’Artagnan started when he perceived the tapestry raised by a white hand, which, by its form, its color and its beauty he recognized as that royal hand which had one day been presented to him to kiss. The queen entered. “It is you, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” she said, fixing a gaze full of melancholy interest on the countenance of the officer, “and I know you well. Look at me well in your turn. I am the queen; do you recognize me?” “No, madame,” replied D’Artagnan. “But are you no longer aware,” continued Anne, giving that sweet expression to her voice which she could do at will, “that in former days the queen had once need of a young, brave and devoted cavalier—that she found this cavalier—and that, although he might have thought that she had forgotten him, she had kept a place for him in the depths of her heart?” “No, madame, I was ignorant of that,” said the musketeer. “So much the worse, sir,” said Anne of Austria; “so much the worse, at least for the queen, for to-day she has need of the same courage and the same devotion.” “What!” exclaimed D’Artagnan, “does the queen, surrounded as she is by such devoted servants, such wise counselors, men, in short, so great by merit or position—does she deign to cast her eyes on an obscure soldier?” Anne understood this covert reproach and was more moved than irritated by it. She had many a time felt humiliated by the self-sacrifice and disinterestedness shown by the Gascon gentleman. She had allowed herself to be exceeded in generosity. “All that you tell me of those by whom I am surrounded, Monsieur d’Artagnan, is doubtless true,” said the queen, “but I have confidence in you alone. I know that you belong to the cardinal, but belong to me as well, and I will take upon myself the making of your fortune. Come, will you do to-day what formerly the gentleman you do not know did for the queen?” “I will do everything your majesty commands,” replied D’Artagnan. The queen reflected for a moment and then, seeing the cautious demeanor of the musketeer: