Mazarin turned pale and shrank back in the coach.

“Low-born fellows!” ejaculated Porthos.

D’Artagnan said nothing, but twirled his mustache with a peculiar gesture which showed that his fine Gascon humor was awake.

Anne of Austria bent down and whispered in the young king’s ear:

“Say something gracious to Monsieur d’Artagnan, my son.”

The young king leaned toward the door.

“I have not said good-morning to you, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” he said; “nevertheless, I have remarked you.

It was you who were behind my bed-curtains that night the Parisians wished to see me asleep.”