"You must be deceived," said Athos, "or I know no more honest people in the world but you and myself."
D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and unsealed the letter, while the impassible Englishman held for him a large lantern, by the light of which he was enabled to read it.
"Well, what is the matter?" said Athos, seeing the countenance of the reader change.
"Read it yourself," said the musketeer.
Athos took the paper and read:
Monsieur d'Artagnan. -- The king regrets very much you did not come to St. Paul's with his cortege. He missed you, as I also have missed you, my dear captain. There is but one means of repairing all this. His majesty expects me at nine o'clock at the palace of St. James's: will you be there at the same time with me? His gracious majesty appoints that hour for an audience he grants you."
This letter was from Monk.
CHAPTER 33. The Audience.
"Well?" cried Athos with a mild look of reproach when D'Artagnan had read the letter addressed to him by Monk.
"Well!" said D'Artagnan, red with pleasure, and a little with shame, at having so hastily accused the king and Monk. "This is a politeness, -- which leads to nothing, it is true, but yet it is a politeness."
"I had great difficulty in believing the young prince ungrateful," said Athos.
"The fact is, that his present is still too near his past," replied D'Artagnan; "after all, everything to the present moment proved me right."
"I acknowledge it, my dear friend, I acknowledge it. Ah! there is your