“But in what carriage do we start?”
“I have provided for everything; a carriage below is waiting for your majesty.”
“Let us go to the king.”
D’Artagnan bowed and followed the queen. The young Louis was already dressed, with the exception of his shoes and doublet; he had allowed himself to be dressed, in great astonishment, overwhelming Laporte with questions, who replied only in these words, “Sire, it is by the queen’s commands.”
The bedclothes were thrown back, exposing the king’s bed linen, which was so worn that here and there holes could be seen. It was one of the results of Mazarin’s niggardliness.
The queen entered and D’Artagnan remained at the door. As soon as the child perceived the queen he escaped from Laporte and ran to meet her. Anne then motioned to D’Artagnan to approach, and he obeyed.
“My son,” said Anne of Austria, pointing to the musketeer, calm, standing uncovered, “here is Monsieur d’Artagnan, who is as brave as one of those ancient heroes of whom you like so much to hear from my women. Remember his name well and look at him well, that his face may not be forgotten, for this evening he is going to render us a great service.”
The young king looked at the officer with his large-formed eye, and repeated:
“Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“That is it, my son.”