ho had accordingly no confidence in acclamations
bought at twenty pistoles each, kept one eye on Porthos; but that
gigantic body-guard replied to the look with his great bass voice, "Be
tranquil, my lord," and Mazarin became more and more composed.

At the Palais Royal, the crowd, which had flowed in from the adjacent
street was still greater; like an impetuous mob, a wave of human beings
came to meet the carriage and rolled tumultuously into the Rue Saint
Honore.

When the procession reached the palace, loud cries of "Long live their
majesties!" resounded. Mazarin leaned out of the window. One or two
shouts of "Long live the cardinal" saluted his shadow; but instantly
hisses and yells stifled them remorselessly. Mazarin turned pale and
shrank back in the coach.

"Low-born fellows!" ejaculated Porthos.

D'Artagnan said nothing, but twirled his mustache with a peculiar
gesture which showed that his fine Gascon humor was awake.

Anne of Austria bent down and whispered in the young king's ear:

"Say something gracious to Monsieur d'Artagnan, my son."

The young king leaned toward the door.

"I have not said good-morning to you, Monsieur d'Artagnan," he said;
"nevertheless, I have remarked you. It was you who were behind my
bed-curtains that night the Parisians wished to see me asleep."

"And if the king permits me," returned the Gascon, "I shall be near him
always when there is danger to be encountered."

"Sir," said Mazarin to Porthos, "what would you do if the crowd fell
upon us?"

"Kill as many as I could, my lord."

"Hem! brave as you are and strong as you are, you could not kill them
all."

"'Tis true," answered Porthos, rising on his saddle, in order that he
might appraise the immense crowd, "there are a lot of them."

"I think I should like the other fellow better than this one," said
Mazarin to himself, and he threw himself back in his carriage.

The queen and her minister, more especially the latter, had reason to
feel anxious. The crowd, whilst preserving an appearance of respect and
even of affection for the king and queen regent, began to be tumultuous.
Reports were whispered about, like certain sounds which announce, as
they whistle from wave to wave, the coming storm--and when they pass
athwart a multitude, presage an emeute.

D'Artagnan turned toward the musketeers and made a sign imperceptible
to the crowd, but very easily understood by that chosen regiment, the
flower of the army.

Th