le:

"Dec. 3, 1627

"It is by my order and for the good of the state that the bearer of this
has done what he has done.

"RICHELIEU"

The cardinal, after having read these two lines, sank into a profound
reverie; but he did not return the paper to d'Artagnan.

"He is meditating by what sort of punishment he shall cause me to
die," said the Gascon to himself. "Well, my faith! he shall see how a
gentleman can die."

The young Musketeer was in excellent disposition to die heroically.

Richelieu still continued thinking, rolling and unrolling the paper in
his hands.

At length he raised his head, fixed his eagle look upon that loyal,
open, and intelligent countenance, read upon that face, furrowed with
tears, all the sufferings its possessor had endured in the course of a
month, and reflected for the third or fourth time how much there was
in that youth of twenty-one years before him, and what resources his
activity, his courage, and his shrewdness might offer to a good master.
On the other side, the crimes, the power, and the infernal genius of
Milady had more than once terrified him. He felt something like a secret
joy at being forever relieved of this dangerous accomplice.

Richelieu slowly tore the paper which d'Artagnan had generously
relinquished.

"I am lost!" said d'Artagnan to himself. And he bowed profoundly before
the cardinal, like a man who says, "Lord, Thy will be done!"

The cardinal approached the table, and without sitting down, wrote a
few lines upon a parchment of which two-thirds were already filled, and
affixed his seal.

"That is my condemnation," thought d'Artagnan; "he will spare me the
ENNUI of the Bastille, or the tediousness of a trial. That's very kind
of him."

"Here, monsieur," said the cardinal to the young man. "I have taken from
you one CARTE BLANCHE to give you another. The name is wanting in this
commission; you can write it yourself."

D'Artagnan took the paper hesitatingly and cast his eyes over it; it was
a lieutenant's commission in the Musketeers.

D'Artagnan fell at the feet of the cardinal.

"Monseigneur," said he, "my life is yours; henceforth dispose of it. But
this favor which you bestow upon me I do not merit. I have three friends
who are more meritorious and more worthy--"

"You are a brave youth, d'Artagnan," interrupted the cardinal, tapping
him familiarly on the shoulder, charmed at having vanquished this
rebellious nature. "Do with this commission