"Monsieur," said the officer, coming up to him, "I await your good pleasure to depart."
"I am ready, monsieur," replied D'Artagnan, grinding his teeth.
The officer immediately commanded a canoe to receive M. d'Artagnan and himself. At sight of this he became almost mad with rage.
"How," stammered he, "will you carry on the direction of the different corps?"
"When you are gone, monsieur," replied the commander of the fleet, "it is to me the direction of the whole is committed."
"Then, monsieur," rejoined Colbert's man, addressing the new leader, "it is for you that this last order that has been remitted to me is intended. Let us see your powers."
"Here they are," said the sea officer, exhibiting a royal signature.
"Here are your instructions," replied the officer, placing the folded paper in his hands; and turning-toward D'Artagnan, "Come, monsieur," said he, in an agitated voice (such despair did he behold in that man of iron), "do me the favor to depart at once."
"Immediately!" articulated D'Artagnan feebly, subdued, crushed by implacable impossibility.
And he let himself slide down into the little boat, which started, favored by wind and tide, for the coast of France. The king's guards embarked with him. The musketeer still preserved the hope of reaching Nantes quickly, and of pleading the cause of his friends eloquently enough to incline the king to mercy. The bark flew like a swallow. D'Artagnan distinctly saw the land of France profiled in black against the white clouds of night.