“Very good,” said the queen, “be as grateful as you like, it does not implicate me; you are here safe and sound, that is all I wished for; you are not only welcome, but welcome back.”
“Yes, madame; but I only came back on one condition—that I would transmit to your majesty the will of the people.”
“The will!” exclaimed the queen, frowning. “Oh! oh! monsieur marechal, you must indeed have found yourself in wondrous peril to have undertaken so strange a commission!”
The irony with which these words were uttered did not escape the marechal.
“Pardon, madame,” he said, “I am not a lawyer, I am a mere soldier, and probably, therefore, I do not quite comprehend the value of certain words; I ought to have said the wishes, and not the will, of the people. As for what you do me the honor to say, I presume you mean I was afraid?”
The queen smiled.
“Well, then, madame, yes, I did feel fear; and though I have been through twelve pitched battles and I cannot count how many charges and skirmishes, I own for the third time in my life I was afraid. Yes, and I would rather face your majesty, however threatening your smile, than face those demons who accompanied me hither and who sprung from I know not whence, unless from deepest hell.”
(“Bravo,” said D’Artagnan in a whisper to Porthos; “well answered.”)
“Well,” said the queen, biting her lips, whilst her courtiers looked at each other with surprise, “what is the desire of my people?”
“That Broussel shall be given up to them, madame.”