“Open the gate,” he cried. “I know who it is!” Then putting his face to the lowered blinds, he said:
“I wish you joy, my lord!”
“Impudent fellow!” cried D’Artagnan, “you will get me turned off.”
The gate groaned on its hinges, and D’Artagnan, seeing the way clear, whipped his horses, who started at a canter, and five minutes later they had rejoined the cardinal.
“Mousqueton!” exclaimed D’Artagnan, “draw up the blinds of his majesty’s carriage.”
“It is he!” cried Porthos.
“Disguised as a coachman!” exclaimed Mazarin.