temporized for a short time.

Suddenly, when least expected, Monk drove the military party out of
London, and installed himself in the city amidst the citizens, by order
of the parliament; then, at the moment when the citizens were crying out
against Monk--at the moment when the soldiers themselves were accusing
their leader--Monk, finding himself certain of a majority, declared to
the Rump Parliament that it must abdicate--be dissolved--and yield its
place to a government which would not be a joke. Monk pronounced this
declaration, supported by fifty thousand swords, to which, that same
evening, were united, with shouts of delirious joy, the five hundred
thousand inhabitants of the good city of London. At length, at the
moment when the people, after their triumphs and festive repasts in the
open streets, were looking about for a master, it was affirmed that a
vessel had left the Hague, bearing Charles II. and his fortunes.

"Gentlemen," said Monk to his officers, "I am going to meet the
legitimate king. He who loves me will follow me." A burst of
acclamations welcomed these words, which D'Artagnan did not hear without
the greatest delight.

"Mordioux!" said he to Monk, "that is bold, monsieur."

"You will accompany me, will you not?" said Monk.

"Pardieu! general. But tell me, I beg, what you wrote by Athos, that is
to say, the Comte de la Fere--you know--the day of our arrival?"

"I have no secrets from you now," replied Monk. "I wrote these words:
'Sire, I expect your majesty in six weeks at Dover.'"

"Ah!" said D'Artagnan, "I no longer say it is bold; I say it is well
played; it is a fine stroke!"

"You are something of a judge in such matters," replied Monk.

And this was the only time the general had ever made an allusion to his
voyage to Holland.

CHAPTER 32. Athos and D'Artagnan meet once more at the Hostelry of the
Corne du Cerf

The king of England made his entree into Dover with great pomp, as he
afterwards did in London. He had sent for his brothers; he had brought
over his mother and sister. England had been for so long a time given up
to herself--that is to say, to tyranny, mediocrity, and nonsense--that
this return of Charles II., whom the English only knew as the son of the
man whose head they had cut off, was a festival for the three
kingdoms. Consequently, all the good wishes, all the acclamations
which accompanied his return, struck the young king so forcibly that he
stooped an