“It is certainly the king,” said the man, rising again. “God bless his majesty!”
“Yes,” repeated the leader in a whisper, “God bless his majesty!” and all these men, who had entered enraged, passed from anger to pity and blessed the royal infant in their turn.
“Now,” said Planchet, “let us thank the queen. My friends, retire.”
They all bowed, and retired by degrees as noiselessly as they had entered. Planchet, who had been the first to enter, was the last to leave. The queen stopped him.
“What is your name, my friend?” she said.
Planchet, much surprised at the inquiry, turned back.
“Yes,” continued the queen, “I think myself as much honored to have received you this evening as if you had been a prince, and I wish to know your name.”
“Yes,” thought Planchet, “to treat me as a prince. No, thank you.”
D’Artagnan trembled lest Planchet, seduced, like the crow in the fable, should tell his name, and that the queen, knowing his name, would discover that Planchet had belonged to him.
“Madame,” replied Planchet, respectfully, “I am called Dulaurier, at your service.”