Eh?
and besides I have an idea!" We know that, in general, D'Artagnan was not wanting in ideas; and during this soliloquy, D'Artagnan buttoned his vest up to the chin, and nothing excited his imagination like this preparation for a combat of any kind, called _accinction_ by the Romans.

He was quite heated when he reached the mansion of the Duke of Albemarle.

He was introduced to the viceroy with a promptitude which proved that he was considered as one of the household.

Monk was in his business-closet.
"My lord," said D'Artagnan, with that expression of frankness which the Gascon knew so well how to assume, "my lord, I have come to ask your grace's advice!" Monk, as closely buttoned up morally as his antagonist was physically, replied: "Ask, my friend;" and his countenance presented an expression not less open than that of D'Artagnan.
"My lord, in the first place, promise me secrecy and indulgence." "I promise you all you wish.

What is the matter?
Speak!" "It is, my lord, that I am not quite pleased with the king." "Indeed! And on what account, my dear lieutenant ?" "Because his majesty gives way sometimes to jests very compromising for his servants; and jesting, my lord, is a weapon that seriously wounds men of the sword, as we are." Monk did all in his power not to betray his thought, but D'Artagnan watched him with too close attention not to detect an almost imperceptible flush upon his face.