“But, sire, I told your majesty——”
“That you wanted rest, I know you did: only I replied that I would not allow it—I am master, I suppose?”
“Yes, sire.”
“That is well. You were formerly in the way of becoming captain of the musketeers?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Well, here is your commission signed. I place it in this drawer. The day on which you shall return from a certain expedition which I have to confide to you, on that day you may yourself take the commission from the drawer.” D’Artagnan still hesitated, and hung down his head. “Come, monsieur,” said the king, “one would believe, to look at you, that you did not know that at the court of the most Christian king, the captain-general of the musketeers takes precedence of the marechals of France.”
“Sire, I know he does.
“Then, am I to think you do put no faith in my word?”
“Oh! sire, never—never dream of such a thing.”
“I have wished to prove to you, that you, so good a servant, had lost a good master; am I anything like the master that will suit you?”