“There are some things, sire, which are difficult of explanation.”
“You are quite right, and the event which we are now discussing is certainly one of them. Go on.”
During the recital, Saint-Aignan, who probably would have made a sign to Manicamp to be careful what he was about, found that the king’s glance was constantly fixed upon himself, so that it was utterly impossible to communicate with Manicamp in any way. As for D’Artagnan, the statue of Silence at Athens was far more noisy and far more expressive than he. Manicamp, therefore, was obliged to continue in the same way he had begun, and so contrived to get more and more entangled in his explanation. “Sire,” he said, “this is probably how the affair happened. Guiche was waiting to receive the boar as it rushed towards him.”
“On foot or on horseback?” inquired the king.
“On horseback. He fired upon the brute and missed his aim, and then it dashed upon him.”
“And the horse was killed.”
“Ah! your majesty knows that, then.”
“I have been told that a horse has been found lying dead in the cross-roads of the Bois-Rochin, and I presume it was De Guiche’s horse.”
“Perfectly true, sire, it was his.”
“Well, so much for the horse, and now for De Guiche?”