“Well,” said he, “they likewise have refused me.”
“That, dear friend, is because nobody is more worthy than yourself.”
He took a quill, wrote the name of D’Artagnan in the commission, and returned it to him.
“I shall then have no more friends,” said the young man. “Alas! nothing but bitter recollections.”
And he let his head sink upon his hands, while two large tears rolled down his cheeks.
“You are young,” replied Athos; “and your bitter recollections have time to change themselves into sweet remembrances.”
EPILOGUE
La Rochelle, deprived of the assistance of the English fleet and of the diversion promised by Buckingham, surrendered after a siege of a year. On the twenty-eighth of October, 1628, the capitulation was signed.
The king made his entrance into Paris on the twenty-third of December of the same year. He was received in triumph, as if he came from conquering an enemy and not Frenchmen. He entered by the Faubourg St. Jacques, under verdant arches.
D’Artagnan took possession of his command. Porthos left the service, and in the course of the following year married Mme. Coquenard; the coffer so much coveted contained eight hundred thousand livres.