"Sire," replied the captain of the musketeers, coldly, "I very well remember that one morning at Vaux you addressed that question to many people who did not answer to it, while I, on my part, did answer to it. If I recognized my king on that day, when the thing was not easy, I think it would be useless to ask it of me now, when your majesty is alone with me."
At these words Louis cast down his eyes. It appeared to him that the shade of the unfortunate Philippe passed between D'Artagnan and himself, to evoke the remembrance of that terrible adventure. Almost at the same moment an officer entered and placed a dispatch in the hands of the king, who, in his turn, changed color while reading it.
"Monsieur," said he, "what I learn here you would know later; it is better I should tell you, and that you should learn it from the mouth of your king. A battle has taken place at Belle-Isle."
"Oh! ah!" said D'Artagnan, with a calm air, though his heart beat enough to break through his chest. "Well, sire?"
"Well, monsieur—and I have lost a hundred and ten men."
A beam of joy and pride shone in the eyes of D'Artagnan. "And the rebels?" said he.
"The rebels have fled," said the king.
D'Artagnan could not restrain a cry of triumph. "Only," added the king, "I have a fleet which closely blockades Belle-Isle, and I am certain no bark can escape."
"So that," said the musketeer, brought back to his dismal ideas, "if these two gentlemen are taken—"
"They will be hanged," said the king, quietly.