There was nothing to say in answer to statements made in such a tone; the king was astounded at such an obstinate and open resistance on the part of D’Artagnan. “At least you had a reason, Monsieur d’Artagnan, for acting as you did?” said the king, proudly.
“I have always a reason for everything, sire.”
“Your reason cannot be your friendship for the comte, at all events,—the only one that can be of any avail, the only one that could possibly excuse you,—for I placed you perfectly at your ease in that respect.”
“Me, sire?”
“Did I not give you the choice to arrest, or not to arrest M. le Comte de la Fere?”
“Yes, sire, but—”
“But what?” exclaimed the king, impatiently.
“But you warned me, sire, that if I did not arrest him, your captain of the guard should do so.”
“Was I not considerate enough towards you, from the very moment I did not compel you to obey me?”
“To me, sire, you were, but not to my friend, for my friend would be arrested all the same, whether by myself or by the captain of the guards.”