le expect. Open the
door, then, if you please, _hein!_"

"Monsieur," persisted the old man, "do you believe, upon your soul and
conscience, that your news is worth waking the king?"

"For God's sake, my dear monsieur, draw your bolts; you will not be
sorry, I swear, for the trouble it will give you. I am worth my weight
in gold, _parole d'honneur!_"

"Monsieur, I cannot open the door till you have told me your name."

"Must I, then?"

"It is by the order of my master, monsieur."

"Well, my name is--but, I warn you, my name will tell you absolutely
nothing."

"Never mind, tell it, notwithstanding."

"Well, I am the Chevalier d'Artagnan."

The voice uttered an exclamation.

"Oh! good heavens!" said a voice on the other side of the door.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan. What happiness! I could not help thinking I knew
that voice."

"Humph!" said D'Artagnan. "My voice is known here! That's flattering."

"Oh! yes, we know it," said the old man, drawing the bolts; "and here is
the proof." And at these words he let in D'Artagnan, who, by the
light of the lantern he carried in his hand, recognized his obstinate
interlocutor.

"Ah! _Mordioux!_" cried he: "why, it is Parry! I ought to have known
that."

"Parry, yes, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, it is I. What joy to see you
once again!"

"You are right there, what joy!" said D'Artagnan, pressing the old man's
hand. "There, now you'll go and inform the king, will you not?"

"But the king is asleep, my dear monsieur."

"_Mordioux!_ then wake him. He won't scold you for having disturbed him,
I will promise you."

"You come on the part of the count, do you not?"

"The Comte de la Fere?"

"From Athos?"

"_Ma foi!_ no; I come on my own part. Come, Parry, quick! The king--I
want the king."

Parry did not think it his duty to resist any longer; he knew D'Artagnan
of old; he knew that, although a Gascon, his words never promised
more than they could stand to. He crossed a court and a little garden,
appeased the dog, that seemed most anxious to taste of the musketeer's
flesh, and went to knock at the window of a chamber forming the
ground-floor of a little pavilion. Immediately a little dog inhabiting
that chamber replied to the great dog inhabiting the court.

"Poor king!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "these are his body-guards. It
is true he is not the worse guarded on that account."

"What is wanted with me?" asked the king, from the back of the chamber.

"Sire, it