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Whilst D'Artagnan and Porthos were engaged in conducting thecardinal to Saint Germain, Athos and Aramis returned toParis.

Each had his own particular visit to make.

Aramis rushed to the Hotel de Ville, where Madame deLongueville was sojourning. The duchess loudly lamented theannouncement of peace. War had made her a queen; peacebrought her abdication. She declared that she would neverassent to the treaty and that she wished eternal war.

But when Aramis had presented that peace to her in a truelight - that is to say, with all its advantages; when hehad pointed out to her, in exchange for the precarious andcontested royalty of Paris, the viceroyalty ofFont-de-l'Arche, in other words, of all Normandy; when hehad rung in her ears the five hundred thousand francspromised by the cardinal; when he had dazzled her eyes withthe honor bestowed on her by the king in holding her childat the baptismal font, Madame de Longueville contended nolonger, except as is the custom with pretty women tocontend, and defended herself only to surrender at last.

Aramis made a presence of believing in the reality of heropposition and was unwilling to deprive himself in his ownview of the credit of her conversion.

"Madame," he said, "you have wished to conquer the princeyour brother - that is to say, the greatest captain of theage; and when women of genius wish anything they alwayssucceed in attaining it. You have succeeded; the prince isbeaten, since he can no longer fight. Now attach him to ourparty. Withdraw him gently from the queen, whom he does notlike, from Mazarin, whom he despises. The Fronde is acomedy, of which the first act only is played. Let us waitfor a denouement - for the day when the prince, thanks toyou, shall have turned against the court."

Madame de Longueville was persuaded. This Frondist duchesstrusted so confidently to the power of her fine eyes, thatshe could not doubt their influence even over Monsieur deConde; and the chronicles of the time aver that herconfidence was justified.

Athos, on quitting Aramis, went to Madame de Chevreuse. Herewas another frondeuse to persuade, and she was even lessopen to conviction than her younger rival. There had been nostipulation in her favor. Monsieur de Chevreuse had not beenappointed governor of a province, and if the queen shouldconsent to be godmother it could be only of her grandson orgranddaughter. At the first announcement of peace Madame deChevreuse frowned, and in spite of all the logic of Athos toshow her that a prolonged war would have been impracticable,contended in favor of hostilities.

"My fair friend," said Athos, "allow me to tell you thateverybody is tired of war. You will get yourself exiled, asyou did in the time of Louis XIII. Believe me, we havepassed the time of success in intrigue, and your fine eyesare not destined to be eclipsed by regretting Paris, wherethere will always be two queens as long as you are there."

"Oh," cried the duchess, "I cannot make war alone, but I canavenge myself on that ungrateful queen and most ambitiousfavorite-on the honor of a duchess, I will avenge myself."

"Madame," replied Athos, "do not injure the Vicomte deBragelonne - do not ruin his prospects. Alas! excuse myweakness! There are moments when a man grows young again inhis children."

The duchess smiled, half tenderly, half ironically.

"Count," she said, "you are, I fear, gained over to thecourt. I suppose you have a blue ribbon in your pocket?"

"Yes, madame; I have that of the Garter, which King CharlesI. gave me some days before he died."

"Come, I am growing an old woman!" said the duchess,pensively.

Athos took her hand and kissed it. She sighed, as she lookedat him.

"Count," she said, "Bragelonne must be a charming place. Youare a man of taste. You have water - woods - flowersthere?"

She sighed again and leaned her charming head, gracefullyreclined, on her hand, still beautiful in form and color.

"Madame!" exclaimed Athos, "what were you saying just nowabout growing old? Never have I seen you look so young, sobeautiful!"

The duchess shook her head.

"Does Monsieur de Bragelonne remain in Paris?" she inquired.

"What think you of it?" inquired Athos.

"Leave him with me," replied the duchess.

"No, madame; if you have forgotten the history of Oedipus,I, at least, remember it."

"Really, sir, you are delightful, and I should like to spenda month at Bragelonne."

"Are you not afraid of making people envious of me,duchess?" replied Athos.

"No, I shall go incognito, count, under the name of MarieMichon."

"You are adorable, madame."

"But do not keep Raoul with you."

"Why not?"

"Because he is in love."

"He! he is quite a child!"

"And 'tis a child he loves."

Athos became thoughtful.

"You are right, duchess. This singular passion for a childof seven may some day make him very unhappy. There is to bewar in Flanders. He shall go thither."

"And at his return you will send him to me. I will arm himagainst love."

"Alas, madame!" exclaimed Athos, "to-day love is like war - the breastplate is becoming useless."

Raoul entered at this moment; he came to announce that thesolemn entrance of the king, queen, and her ministers was totake place on the ensuing day.

The next day, in fact, at daybreak, the court madepreparations to quit Saint Germain.

Meanwhile, the queen every hour had been sending forD'Artagnan.

"I hear," she said, "that Paris is not quiet. I am afraidfor the king's safety; place yourself close to the coachdoor on the right."

"Reassure yourself, madame, I will answer for the king'ssafety."

As he left the queen's presence Bernouin summoned him to thecardinal.

"Sir," said Mazarin to him "an emeute is spoken of in Paris.I shall be on the king's left and as I am the chief personthreatened, remain at the coach door to the left."

"Your eminence may be perfectly easy," replied D'Artagnan;"they will not touch a hair of your head."

"Deuce take it!" he thought to himself, "how can I take careof both? Ah! plague on't, I will guard the king and Porthosshall guard the cardinal."

This arrangement pleased every one. The queen had confidencein the courage of D'Artagnan, which she knew, and thecardinal in the strength of Porthos, which he hadexperienced.

The royal procession set out for Paris. Guitant andComminges, at the head of the guards, marched first; thencame the royal carriage, with D'Artagnan on one side,Porthos on the other; then the musketeers, for two andtwenty years staunch friends of D'Artagnan. During twenty hehad been lieutenant, their captain since the night before.

The cortege proceeded to Notre Dame, where a Te Deum waschanted. All Paris were in the streets. The Swiss were drawnup along the road, but as the road was long, they wereplaced at six or eight feet distant from each other and onedeep only. This force was therefore wholly insufficient, andfrom time to time the line was broken through by the peopleand was formed again with difficulty. Whenever thisoccurred, although it proceeded only from goodwill and adesire to see the king and queen, Anne looked at D'Artagnananxiously.

Mazarin, who had dispensed a thousand louis to make thepeople cry "Long live Mazarin," and who had accordingly noconfidence in acclamations bought at twenty pistoles each,kept one eye on Porthos; but that gigantic body-guardreplied 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 theadjacent street was still greater; like an impetuous mob, awave of human beings came to meet the carriage and rolledtumultuously into the Rue Saint Honore.

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

"Low-born fellows!" ejaculated Porthos.

D'Artagnan said nothing, but twirled his mustache with apeculiar gesture which showed that his fine Gascon humor wasawake.

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

"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 whowere behind my bed-curtains that night the Parisians wishedto see me asleep."

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

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

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

"Hem! brave as you are and strong as you are, you could notkill them all."

"'Tis true," answered Porthos, rising on his saddle, inorder that he might appraise the immense crowd, "there are alot of them."

"I think I should like the other fellow better than thisone," said Mazarin to himself, and he threw himself back inhis carriage.

The queen and her minister, more especially the latter, hadreason to feel anxious. The crowd, whilst preserving anappearance of respect and even of affection for the king andqueen regent, began to be tumultuous. Reports were whisperedabout, like certain sounds which announce, as they whistlefrom wave to wave, the coming storm - and when they passathwart a multitude, presage an emeute.

D'Artagnan turned toward the musketeers and made a signimperceptible to the crowd, but very easily understood bythat chosen regiment, the flower of the army.

The ranks closed firmly in and a kind of majestic tremor ranfrom man to man.

At the Barriere des Sergents the procession was obliged tostop. Comminges left the head of the escort and went to thequeen's carriage. Anne questioned D'Artagnan by a look. Heanswered in the same language.

"Proceed," she said.

Comminges returned to his post. An effort was made and theliving barrier was violently broken through.

Some complaints arose from the crowd and were addressed thistime to the king as well as the minister.

"Onward!" cried D'Artagnan, in a loud voice.

"Onward!" cried Porthos.

But as if the multitude had waited only for thisdemonstration to burst out, all the sentiments of hostilitythat possessed it exploded simultaneously. Cries of "Downwith Mazarin!" "Death to the cardinal!" resounded on allsides.

At the same time through the streets of Grenelle, SaintHonore, and Du Coq, a double stream of people broke thefeeble hedge of Swiss guards and came like a whirlwind evento the very legs of Porthos's horse and that of D'Artagnan.

This new eruption was more dangerous than the others, beingcomposed of armed men. It was plain that it was not thechance combination of those who had collected a number ofthe malcontents at the same spot, but a concerted organizedattack.

Each of these mobs was led by a chief, one of whom appearedto belong, not to the people, but to the honorablecorporation of mendicants, and the other, notwithstandinghis affected imitation of the people, might easily bediscerned to be a gentleman. Both were evidently stimulatedby the same impulse.

There was a shock which was perceived even in the royalcarriage. Myriads of hoarse cries, forming one vast uproar,were heard, mingled with guns firing.

"Ho! Musketeers!" cried D'Artagnan.

The escort divided into two files. One of them passed aroundto the right of the carriage, the other to the left. Onewent to support D'Artagnan, the other Porthos. Then came askirmish, the more terrible because it had no definiteobject; the more melancholy, because those engaged in itknew not for whom they were fighting. Like all popularmovements, the shock given by the rush of this mob wasformidable. The musketeers, few in number, not being able,in the midst of this crowd, to make their horses wheelaround, began to give way. D'Artagnan offered to lower theblinds of the royal carriage, but the young king stretchedout his arm, saying:

"No, sir! I wish to see everything."

"If your majesty wishes to look out - well, then, look!"replied D'Artagnan. And turning with that fury which madehim so formidable, he rushed toward the chief of theinsurgents, a man who, with a huge sword in his hand, wastrying to hew a passage to the coach door through themusketeers.

"Make room!" cried D'Artagnan. "Zounds! give way!"

At these words the man with a pistol and sword raised hishead, but it was too late. The blow was sped by D'Artagnan;the rapier had pierced his bosom.

"Ah! confound it!" cried the Gascon, trying in vain, toolate, to retract the thrust. "What the devil are you doinghere, count?"

"Accomplishing my destiny," replied Rochefort, falling onone knee. "I have already got up again after three stabsfrom you, I shall never rise after this fourth."

"Count!" said D'Artagnan, with some degree of emotion, "Istruck without knowing that it was you. I am sorry, if youdie, that you should die with sentiments of hatred towardme."

Rochefort extended his hand to D'Artagnan, who took it. Thecount wished to speak, but a gush of blood stifled him. Hestiffened in the last convulsions of death and expired.

"Back, people!" cried D'Artagnan, "your leader is dead; youhave no longer any business here."

Indeed, as if De Rochefort had been the very soul of theattack, the crowd who had followed and obeyed him took toflight on seeing him fall. D'Artagnan charged, with a partyof musketeers, up the Rue du Coq, and the portion of the mobhe assailed disappeared like smoke, dispersing near thePlace Saint Germain-l'Auxerrois and taking the direction ofthe quays.

D'Artagnan returned to help Porthos, if Porthos needed help;but Porthos, for his part, had done his work asconscientiously as D'Artagnan. The left of the carriage wasas well cleared as the right, and they drew up the blind ofthe window which Mazarin, less heroic than the king, hadtaken the precaution to lower.

Porthos looked very melancholy.

"What a devil of a face you have, Porthos! and what astrange air for a victor!"

"But you," answered Porthos, "seem to me agitated."

"There's a reason! Zounds! I have just killed an oldfriend."

"Indeed!" replied Porthos, "who?"

"That poor Count de Rochefort."

"Well! exactly like me! I have just killed a man whose faceis not unknown to me. Unluckily, I hit him on the head andimmediately his face was covered with blood."

"And he said nothing as he died?"

"Yes; he exclaimed, `Oh!'"

"I suppose," answered D'Artagnan, laughing, "if he only saidthat, it did not enlighten you much."

"Well, sir!" cried the queen.

"Madame, the passage is quite clear and your majesty cancontinue your road."

In fact, the procession arrived, in safety at Notre Dame, atthe front gate of which all the clergy, with the coadjutorat their head, awaited the king, the queen and the minister,for whose happy return they chanted a Te Deum.

As the service was drawing to a close a boy entered thechurch in great excitement, ran to the sacristy, dressedhimself quickly in the choir robes, and cleaving, thanks tothat uniform, the crowd that filled the temple, approachedBazin, who, clad in his blue robe, was standing gravely inhis place at the entrance to the choir.

Bazin felt some one pulling his sleeve. He lowered to earthhis eyes, beatifically raised to Heaven, and recognizedFriquet.

"Well, you rascal, what is it? How do you dare to disturb mein the exercise of my functions?" asked the beadle.

"Monsieur Bazin," said Friquet, "Monsieur Maillard - youknow who he is, he gives holy water at Saint Eustache - - "

"Well, go on."

"Well, he received in the scrimmage a sword stroke on thehead. That great giant who was there gave it to him."

"In that case," said Bazin, "he must be pretty sick."

"So sick that he is dying, and he wants to confess to thecoadjutor, who, they say, has power to remit great sins."

"And does he imagine that the coadjutor will put himself outfor him?"

"To be sure; the coadjutor has promised."

"Who told you that?"

"Monsieur Maillard himself."

"You have seen him, then?"

"Certainly; I was there when he fell."

"What were you doing there?"

"I was shouting, `Down with Mazarin!' `Death to thecardinal!' `The Italian to the gallows!' Isn't that what youwould have me shout?"

"Be quiet, you rascal!" said Bazin, looking uneasily around.

"So that he told me, that poor Monsieur Maillard, `Go findthe coadjutor, Friquet, and if you bring him to me you shallbe my heir.' Say, then, Father Bazin - the heir of MonsieurMaillard, the giver of holy water at Saint Eustache! Hey! Ishall have nothing to do but to fold my arms! All the same,I should like to do him that service - what do you say toit?"

"I will tell the coadjutor," said Bazin.

In fact, he slowly and respectfully approached the prelateand spoke to him privately a few words, to which the latterresponded by an affirmative sign. He then returned with thesame slow step and said:

"Go and tell the dying man that he must be patient.Monseigneur will be with him in an hour."

"Good!" said Friquet, "my fortune is made."

"By the way," said Bazin, "where was he carried?"

"To the tower Saint Jacques la Boucherie;" and delightedwith the success of his embassy, Friquet started off at thetop of his speed.

When the Te Deum was over, the coadjutor, without stoppingto change his priestly dress, took his way toward that oldtower which he knew so well. He arrived in time. Thoughsinking from moment to moment, the wounded man was not yetdead. The door was opened to the coadjutor of the room inwhich the mendicant was suffering.

A moment later Friquet went out, carrying in his hand alarge leather bag; he opened it as soon as he was outsidethe chamber and to his great astonishment found it full ofgold. The mendicant had kept his word and made Friquet hisheir.

"Ah! Mother Nanette!" cried Friquet, suffocating; "ah!Mother Nanette!"

He could say no more; but though he hadn't strength to speakhe had enough for action. He rushed headlong to the street,and like the Greek from Marathon who fell in the square atAthens, with his laurel in his hand, Friquet reachedCouncillor Broussel's threshold, and then fell exhausted,scattering on the floor the louis disgorged by his leatherbag.

Mother Nanette began by picking up the louis; then shepicked up Friquet.

In the meantime the cortege returned to the Palais Royal.

"That Monsieur d'Artagnan is a very brave man, mother," saidthe young king.

"Yes, my son; and he rendered very important services toyour father. Treat him kindly, therefore, in the future."

"Captain," said the young king to D'Artagnan, on descendingfrom the carriage, "the queen has charged me to invite youto dinner to-day - you and your friend the Baron duVallon."

That was a great honor for D'Artagnan and for Porthos.Porthos was delighted; and yet during the entire repast heseemed to be preoccupied.

"What was the matter with you, baron?" D'Artagnan said tohim as they descended the staircase of the Palais Royal."You seemed at dinner to be anxious about something."

"I was trying," said Porthos, "to recall where I had seenthat mendicant whom I must have killed."

"And you couldn't remember?"

"No."

"Well, search, my friend, search; and when you have found,you will tell me, will you not?"

"Pardieu!" said Porthos.