Then falling into a reverie, she added, however, with an
expression of joy, "Ungrateful woman that I am, for twenty years I have
forgotten this man, whom I ought to have made a marechal of France. My
mother-in-law expended gold, caresses, dignities on Concini, who ruined
her; the king made Vitry marechal of France for an assassination: while
I have left in obscurity, in poverty, the noble D'Artagnan, who saved
me!"

And running to a table, on which were paper, pens and ink, she hastily
began to write.

50. The Interview.

It had been D'Artagnan's practice, ever since the riots, to sleep in the
same room as Porthos, and on this eventful morning he was still there,
sleeping, and dreaming that a yellow cloud had overspread the sky and
was raining gold pieces into his hat, which he held out till it was
overflowing with pistoles. As for Porthos, he dreamed that the panels of
his carriage were not capacious enough to contain the armorial bearings
he had ordered to be painted on them. They were both aroused at seven
o'clock by the entrance of an unliveried servant, who brought a letter
for D'Artagnan.

"From whom?" asked the Gascon.

"From the queen," replied the servant.

"Ho!" said Porthos, raising himself in his bed; "what does she say?"

D'Artagnan requested the servant to wait in the next room and when
the door was closed he sprang up from his bed and read rapidly, whilst
Porthos looked at him with starting eyes, not daring to ask a single
question.

"Friend Porthos," said D'Artagnan, handing the letter to him, "this
time, at least, you are sure of your title of baron, and I of my
captaincy. Read for yourself and judge."

Porthos took the letter and with a trembling voice read the following
words:

"The queen wishes to speak to Monsieur d'Artagnan, who must follow the
bearer."

"Well!" exclaimed Porthos; "I see nothing in that very extraordinary."

"But I see much that is very extraordinary in it," replied D'Artagnan.
"It is evident, by their sending for me, that matters are becoming
complicated. Just reflect a little what an agitation the queen's mind
must be in for her to have remembered me after twenty years."

"It is true," said Porthos.

"Sharpen your sword, baron, load your pistols, and give some corn to the
horses, for I will answer for it, something lightning-like will happen
ere to-morrow."

"But, stop; do you think it can be a trap that they are laying for
us?" suggested Porthos,