priest's robe,
sire, is concealed the most brilliant officer, a gentleman of the most
unparalleled intrepidity, and the wisest theologian in your kingdom."

Louis raised his head. "And an engineer, also, it appears," he said,
admiring Aramis's calm, imperturbable self-possession.

"An engineer for a particular purpose, sire," said the latter.

"My companion in the musketeers, sire," said D'Artagnan, with great
warmth of manner, "the man who has more than a hundred times aided your
father's ministers by his advice--M. d'Herblay, in a word, who, with
M. du Vallon, myself, and M. le Comte de la Fere, who is known to your
majesty, formed that quartette which was a good deal talked about during
the late king's reign, and during your majesty's minority."

"And who fortified Belle-Isle?" the king repeated, in a significant
tone.

Aramis advanced and bowed: "In order to serve the son as I served the
father."

D'Artagnan looked very narrowly at Aramis while he uttered these words,
which displayed so much true respect, so much warm devotion, such entire
frankness and sincerity, that even he, D'Artagnan, the eternal doubter,
he, the almost infallible in judgment, was deceived by it. "A man who
lies cannot speak in such a tone as that," he said.

Louis was overcome by it. "In that case," he said to Fouquet, who
anxiously awaited the result of this proof, "the cardinal's hat is
promised. Monsieur d'Herblay, I pledge you my honor that the first
promotion shall be yours. Thank M. Fouquet for it." Colbert overheard
these words; they stung him to the quick, and he left the salon
abruptly. "And you, Monsieur du Vallon," said the king, "what have you
to ask? I am truly pleased to have it in my power to acknowledge the
services of those who were faithful to my father."

"Sire--" began Porthos, but he was unable to proceed with what he was
going to say.

"Sire," exclaimed D'Artagnan, "this worthy gentleman is utterly
overpowered by your majesty's presence, he who so valiantly sustained
the looks and the fire of a thousand foes. But, knowing what his
thoughts are, I--who am more accustomed to gaze upon the sun--can
translate them: he needs nothing, absolutely nothing; his sole desire
is to have the happiness of gazing upon your majesty for a quarter of an
hour."

"You shall sup with me this evening," said the king, saluting Porthos
with a gracious smile.

Porthos became crimson from delight and pride. The king dismissed him,