k against the wall, and
Manicamp still standing.

"Well, M. Valot," said the king, "did you obey my directions?"

"With the greatest alacrity, sire."

"You went to the doctor's house in Fontainebleau?"

"Yes, sire."

"And you found M. de Guiche there?"

"I did, sire."

"What state was he in?--speak unreservedly."

"In a very sad state indeed, sire."

"The wild boar did not quite devour him, however?"

"Devour whom?"

"De Guiche."

"What wild boar?"

"The boar that wounded him."

"M. de Guiche wounded by a boar?"

"So it is said, at least."

"By a poacher, rather, or by a jealous husband, or an ill-used lover,
who, in order to be revenged, fired upon him."

"What is it that you say, Monsieur Valot? Were not M. de Guiche's wounds
produced by defending himself against a wild boar?"

"M. de Guiche's wounds are the result of a pistol-bullet that broke
his ring-finger and the little finger of the right hand, and afterwards
buried itself in the intercostal muscles of the chest."

"A bullet! Are you sure Monsieur de Guiche was wounded by a _bullet?_"
exclaimed the king, pretending to look much surprised.

"Indeed, I am, sire; so sure, in fact, that here it is." And he
presented to the king a half-flattened bullet, which the king looked at,
but did not touch.

"Did he have that in his chest, poor fellow?" he asked.

"Not precisely. The ball did not penetrate, but was flattened, as you
see, either upon the trigger of the pistol or upon the right side of the
breast-bone."

"Good heavens!" said the king, seriously, "you said nothing to me about
this, Monsieur de Manicamp."

"Sire--"

"What does all this mean, then, this invention about hunting a wild boar
at nightfall? Come, speak, monsieur."

"Sire--"

"It seems, then, that you are right," said the king, turning round
towards his captain of musketeers, "and that a duel actually took
place."

The king possessed, to a greater extent than any one else, the faculty
enjoyed by the great in power or position, of compromising and dividing
those beneath him. Manicamp darted a look full of reproaches at the
musketeer. D'Artagnan understood the look at once, and not wishing
to remain beneath the weight of such an accusation, advanced a step
forward, and said: "Sire, your majesty commanded me to go and explore
the place where the cross-roads meet in the Bois-Rochin, and to report
to you, according to my own ideas, what had taken place there. I
submitt