“Yes; but fortunately we have no Oliver Cromwell in France,” replied the queen.

“Who knows?” said Gondy; “such men are like thunderbolts — one recognizes them only when they have struck.”

Every one shuddered and there was a moment of silence, during which the queen pressed her hand to her side, evidently to still the beatings of her heart.

(“Porthos,” murmured D’Artagnan, “look well at that priest.”

“Yes,” said Porthos, “I see him. What then?”

“Well, he is a man.”

Porthos looked at D’Artagnan in astonishment.