"And," continued he, bowing to Monk, "an enemy whom I shall henceforth esteem at his proper value." The eyes of the Puritan flashed, but only once, and his countenance, for an instant, illuminated by that flash, resumed its somber impassibility.
"Then, Monsieur d'Artagnan," continued Charles, "this is what was about to happen: M.le Comte de la Fere, who you know, I believe, has set out for Newcastle." "What, Athos!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.
"Yes, that was his _nom de guerre_, I believe.

The Comte de la Fere had then set out for Newcastle, and was going, perhaps, to bring the general to hold a conference with me or with those of my party, when you violently, as it appears, interfered with the negotiation." "_Mordioux!_" replied D'Artagnan, "he entered the camp the very evening in which I succeeded in getting into it with my fishermen--" An almost imperceptible frown on the brow of Monk told D'Artagnan that he had surmised rightly.
"Yes, yes," muttered he; "I thought I knew his person; I even fancied I knew his voice.

Unlucky wretch that I am! Oh! sire, pardon me! I thought I had so successfully steered my bark." "There is nothing ill in it, sir," said the king, "except that the general accuses me of having laid a snare for him, which is not the case.

No, general, those are not the arms which I contemplated employing with you, as you will soon see.

In the meanwhile, when I give you my word upon the honor of a gentleman, believe me, sir, believe me! Now, Monsieur d'Artagnan, a word with you, if you please." "I listen on my knees, sire." "You are truly at my service, are you not ?" "Your majesty has seen that I am, too much so." "That is well; from a man like you one word suffices.