Comminges was near the queen, who was questioning him upon the details of his expedition, and every one was listening to his account, when D’Artagnan and Porthos were perceived at the door, behind the cardinal.
“Ah, madame,” said Comminges, hastening to D’Artagnan, “here is one who can tell you better than myself, for he was my protector. Without him I should probably at this moment be a dead fish in the nets at Saint Cloud, for it was a question of nothing less than throwing me into the river. Speak, D’Artagnan, speak.”
D’Artagnan had been a hundred times in the same room with the queen since he had become lieutenant of the musketeers, but her majesty had never once spoken to him.
“Well, sir,” at last said Anne of Austria, “you are silent, after rendering such a service?”
“Madame,” replied D’Artagnan, “I have nought to say, save that my life is ever at your majesty’s service, and that I shall only be happy the day I lose it for you.”
“I know that, sir; I have known that,” said the queen, “a long time; therefore I am delighted to be able thus publicly to mark my gratitude and my esteem.”
“Permit me, madame,” said D’Artagnan, “to reserve a portion for my friend; like myself” (he laid an emphasis on these words) “an ancient musketeer of the company of Tréville; he has done wonders.”
“His name?” asked the queen.
“In the regiment,” said D’Artagnan, “he is called Porthos” (the queen started), “but his true name is the Chevalier du Vallon.”
“De Bracieux de Pierrefonds,” added Porthos.