"Thanks, my old servant, my faithful friend," said he. "As, reckoning from this day, I have no longer any enemies in France, it remains with me to send you to a foreign field to gather your maréchal's bâton. Depend upon me for finding you an opportunity. In the meanwhile, eat of my best bread and sleep tranquilly."
"That is all kind and well!" said D'Artagnan, much agitated. "But those poor men at Belle-Isle? One of them, in particular—so good! so brave! so true!"
"Do you ask their pardon of me?"
"Upon my knees, sire!"
"Well! then, go and take it to them, if it be still time. But do you answer for them?"
"With my life, sire!"
"Go, then. To-morrow I set out for Paris. Return by that time, for I do not wish you to leave me in future."
"Be assured of that, sire," said D'Artagnan, kissing the royal hand.
And, with a heart swelling with joy, he rushed out of the castle on his way to Belle-Isle.