“Yes, sire.”

“And if M. de Gesvres should question you?”

“Question me, sire! Is it likely that M. de Gesvres should question me?” And the musketeer, turning cavalierly on his heel, disappeared.

“To Nantes!” said he to himself, as he descended from the stairs. “Why did he not dare to say, from thence to Belle-Isle?”

As he reached the great gates, one of M. Brienne’s clerks came running after him, exclaiming, “Monsieur d’Artagnan! I beg your pardon — ”

“What is the matter, Monsieur Ariste?”

“The king has desired me to give you this order.”