‘tis twenty years ago — I have a good memory — since I had the honor behind a piece of tapestry in the Hotel de Ville, of kissing one of those lovely hands.”

“There is the other,” replied the queen; “and that the left hand should not be less liberal than the right,” she drew from her finger a diamond similar to the one formerly given to him, “take and keep this ring in remembrance of me.

“Madame,” said D’Artagnan, rising, “I have only one thing more to wish, which is, that the next thing you ask from me, shall be — my life.”

And with this conclusion — a way peculiar to himself — he rose and left the room.

“I never rightly understood those men,”