ty a great captain, I do not wish to prevent you. Your campaigns in
Italy and Flanders prove that he could not have a better master; but,
at this moment it is not a question of military science, but of a State
secret, which can only be confided to his majesty; therefore, again I
beg to speak to the king in private."

"Impossible, monseigneur!" cried the marshal.

"Impossible!" replied the regent; "and why?"

"Why?" continued the marshal; "because my duty is not to lose sight of
the king for a moment, and because I will not permit it."

"Take care, marshal," interrupted the Duc d'Orleans, haughtily: "you are
forgetting your proper respect toward me."

"Monseigneur," continued the marshal, becoming more and more angry, "I
know the respect which I owe to your royal highness, and I also know
what I owe to my charge, and to the king, and for that reason I will not
lose sight of his majesty for an instant, inasmuch as--"

The duke hesitated.

"Well, finish," said the regent.

"Inasmuch as I answer for his person," said the marshal.

At this want of all restraint, there was a moment's silence, during
which nothing was heard but the grumblings of the marshal, and the
stifled sighs of Monsieur de Fleury.

As to the Duc d'Orleans, he raised his head with a sovereign air of
contempt, and, taking that air of dignity which made him, when he chose,
one of the most imposing princes in the world:

"Monsieur de Villeroy," said he, "you mistake me strangely, it appears,
and imagine that you are speaking to some one else; but since you forget
who I am, I must endeavor to remind you. Marquis de Lafare," continued
he, addressing his captain of the guards, "do your duty."

Then the Marshal de Villeroy, seeing on what a precipice he stood,
opened his mouth to attempt an excuse, but the regent left him no time
to finish his sentence, and shut the door in his face.

The Marquis de Lafare instantly approached the marshal, and demanded
his sword. The marshal remained for an instant as if thunderstruck. He
had for so long a time been left undisturbed in his impertinence that he
had begun to think himself invincible. He tried to speak, but his voice
failed him, and, on the second, and still more imperative demand, he
gave up his sword. At the same moment a door opens, and a chair appears;
two musketeers push the marshal into it--it is closed. D'Artagnan and
Lafare place themselves at each side, and the prisoner is carried off
through