“Ah, monseigneur.”
“You accept it, do you not?”
“Monseigneur,” replied d’Artagnan, with an embarrassed air.
“How? You refuse?” cried the cardinal, with astonishment.
“I am in his Majesty’s Guards, monseigneur, and I have no reason to be dissatisfied.”
“But it appears to me that my Guards — mine — are also his Majesty’s Guards; and whoever serves in a French corps serves the king.”
“Monseigneur, your Eminence has ill understood my words.”
“You want a pretext, do you not? I comprehend. Well, you have this excuse: advancement, the opening campaign, the opportunity which I offer you —