nceal his being a conspirator; therefore, what a weapon
would you not have against him, if his good grace and his intelligence
had not made a scabbard for that weapon. An armed revolt!--for, in fact,
M. Fouquet has been guilty of an armed revolt. Thus, while the king
vaguely suspects M. Fouquet of rebellion, I know it--I could prove
that M. Fouquet had caused the shedding of the blood of his majesty's
subjects. Now, then, let us see? Knowing all that, and holding my
tongue, what further would this heart wish in return for a kind action
of M. Fouquet's, for an advance of fifteen thousand livres, for a
diamond worth a thousand pistoles, for a smile in which there was as
much bitterness as kindness?--I save his life."

"Now, then, I hope," continued the musketeer, "that this imbecile of
a heart is going to preserve silence, and so be fairly quits with M.
Fouquet. Now, then, the king becomes my sun, and as my heart is quits
with M. Fouquet, let him beware who places himself between me and my
sun! Forward, for his majesty Louis XIV.!--Forward!"

These reflections were the only impediments which were able to retard
the progress of D'Artagnan. These reflections once made, he increased
the speed of his horse. But, however perfect his horse Zephyr might
be, it could not hold out at such a pace forever. The day after his
departure from Paris, he was left at Chartres, at the house of an old
friend D'Artagnan had met with in an hotelier of that city. From that
moment the musketeer travelled on post-horses. Thanks to this mode
of locomotion, he traversed the space separating Chartres from
Chateaubriand. In the last of these two cities, far enough from the
coast to prevent any one guessing that D'Artagnan wished to reach the
sea--far enough from Paris to prevent all suspicion of his being a
messenger from Louis XIV., whom D'Artagnan had called his sun, without
suspecting that he who was only at present a rather poor star in the
heaven of royalty, would, one day, make that star his emblem; the
messenger of Louis XIV., we say, quitted the post and purchased a bidet
of the meanest appearance,--one of those animals which an officer of
cavalry would never choose, for fear of being disgraced. Excepting
the color, this new acquisition recalled to the mind of D'Artagnan the
famous orange-colored horse, with which, or rather upon which, he had
made his first appearance in the world. Truth to say, from the moment
he crossed this new steed, it