“Not the least in the world, sire.”
“You have taken Monk?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Where?”
“In the midst of his camp.”
The king trembled with impatience.
“And having taken him on the causeway of Newcastle, I bring him to your majesty,” said D’Artagnan, simply.
“You bring him to me!” cried the king, almost indignant at what he considered a mystification.
“Yes, sire,” replied D’Artagnan, the same tone, “I bring him to you; he is down below yonder, in a large chest pierced with holes, so as to allow him to breathe.”
“Good God!”