r of astonishment; for Louis XIV. could never understand that any one,
who had the distinguished honor of being near him, could wish to leave
him.

"Sire," said D'Artagnan, "I leave you simply because I am not of the
slightest service to you in anything. Ah! if I could only hold the
balancing pole while you were dancing, it would be a very different
affair."

"But, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the king, gravely, "people
dance without a balancing-pole."

"Ah! indeed," said the musketeer, continuing his imperceptible tone of
irony, "I had no idea at all of that."

"You have not seen me dance, then?" inquired the king.

"Yes; but I always thought it would make you firmer. I was mistaken--a
greater reason, therefore, that I should leave for a time. Sire, I
repeat, you have no present occasion for my services; besides, if your
majesty should have any need of me, you would know where to find me."

"Very well," said the king; and he granted him his leave of absence.

We shall not look for D'Artagnan, therefore, at Fontainebleau, for this
would be quite useless; but, with the permission of our readers, we
shall follow him to the Rue des Lombards, where he was located at the
sign of the "Pilon d'Or," in the house of our old friend Planchet. It
was about eight o'clock in the evening, and the weather was exceedingly
warm; there was only one window open, and that one belonging to a room
on the entresol. A perfume of spices, mingled with another perfume less
exotic, but more penetrating, namely, that which arose from the street,
ascended to salute the nostrils of the musketeer. D'Artagnan, reclining
upon an immense straight-backed chair, with his legs not stretched out,
but simply placed upon a stool, formed an angle of the most obtuse form
that could possibly be seen. Both his arms were crossed over his head,
his head reclining upon his left shoulder, like Alexander the Great. His
eyes, usually so quick and intelligent in their expression, were now
half-closed, and seemed fastened, as it were, upon a small corner of
blue sky, which was visible behind the opening of the chimneys: there
was just enough blue, and no more, to put a piece into one of the sacks
of lentils, or haricots, which formed the principal furniture of the
shop on the ground-floor. Thus extended at his ease, and thus sheltered
in his place of observation behind the window, D'Artagnan seemed as if
he had ceased to be a soldier, as if he were no longer a