“It is,” said Athos, “one of those friends of whom I have spoken to you, and who lodged here with me eleven years ago.”
“Oh! but,” said the old man, “so many strangers have lodged here!”
“But we lodged here on the 30th of January, 1649,” added Athos, believing he should stimulate the lazy memory of the host by this remark.
“That is very possible,” replied he, smiling; “but it is so long ago!” and he bowed, and went out.
“Thank you,” said D’Artagnan—“perform exploits, accomplish revolutions, endeavor to engrave your name in stone or bronze with strong swords! there is something more rebellious, more hard, more forgetful than iron, bronze, or stone, and that is, the brain of a lodging-house keeper who has grown rich in the trade,—he does not know me! Well, I should have known him, though.”
Athos, smiling at his friend’s philosophy, unsealed his letter.
“Ah!” said he, “a letter from Parry.”
“Oh! oh!” said D’Artagnan; “read it, my friend, read it! No doubt it contains news.”
Athos shook his head, and read:
Monsieur le Comte.—The king has experienced much regret at not seeing you to-day beside him, at his entrance. His majesty commands me to say so, and to recall him to your memory. His majesty will expect you this evening, at the palace of St. James, between nine and ten o’clock.