At your pleasure, Captain, replied Rabaud.
And from that moment, dArtagnan, accommodating his action to the pace of his horse, like a true centaur, employed his thoughts about nothing,- that is to say, about everything. He asked himself why the King had recalled him; why the Iron Mask had thrown the silver plate at the feet of Raoul. As to the first subject, the reply was only of a negative character. He knew right well that the Kings calling him was from necessity; he still further knew that Louis XIV must experience an imperious want of a private conversation with one whom the possession of such a secret placed on a level with the highest powers of the kingdom; but as to saying exactly what the Kings wish was dArtagnan found himself completely at a loss.
The musketeer had no longer a
