“We all know that,” interrupted the king; “for all that was done for our service.”
“Then,” said Tréville, “it was also for your Majesty’s service that one of my Musketeers, who was innocent, has been seized, that he has been placed between two guards like a malefactor, and that this gallant man, who has ten times shed his blood in your Majesty’s service and is ready to shed it again, has been paraded through the midst of an insolent populace?”
“Bah!” said the king, who began to be shaken, “was it so managed?”
“Monsieur de Tréville,” said the cardinal, with the greatest phlegm, “does not tell your Majesty that this innocent Musketeer, this gallant man, had only an hour before attacked, sword in hand, four commissaries of inquiry, who were delegated by myself to examine into an affair of the highest importance.”
“I defy your Eminence to prove it,” cried Tréville, with his Gascon freedom and military frankness; “for one hour before, Monsieur Athos, who, I will confide it to your Majesty, is really a man of the highest quality, did me the honor after having dined with me to be conversing in the saloon of my hôtel, with the Duc de la Trémouille and the Comte de Châlus, who happened to be there.”
The king looked at the cardinal.
“A written examination attests it,” said the cardinal, replying aloud to the mute interrogation of his Majesty; “and the ill-treated people have drawn up the following, which I have the honor to present to your Majesty.”
“And is the written report of the gownsmen to be placed in comparison with the word of honor of a swordsman?” replied Tréville haughtily.
“Come, come, Tréville, hold your tongue,” said the king.
“If his Eminence entertains any suspicion against one of my Musketeers,” said Tréville, “the justice of Monsieur the Cardinal is so well known that I demand an inquiry.”