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- Александр Дюма
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- Три мушкетера
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- Стр. 835/849
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On
the
sixth
of
the
following
month
the
king
,
in
compliance
with
the
promise
he
had
made
the
cardinal
to
return
to
La
Rochelle
,
left
his
capital
still
in
amazement
at
the
news
which
began
to
spread
itself
of
Buckingham
's
assassination
.
Although
warned
that
the
man
she
had
loved
so
much
was
in
great
danger
,
the
queen
,
when
his
death
was
announced
to
her
,
would
not
believe
the
fact
,
and
even
imprudently
exclaimed
,
"
it
is
false
;
he
has
just
written
to
me
!
"
But
the
next
day
she
was
obliged
to
believe
this
fatal
intelligence
;
Laporte
,
detained
in
England
,
as
everyone
else
had
been
,
by
the
orders
of
Charles
I
,
arrived
,
and
was
the
bearer
of
the
duke
's
dying
gift
to
the
queen
.
The
joy
of
the
king
was
lively
.
He
did
not
even
give
himself
the
trouble
to
dissemble
,
and
displayed
it
with
affectation
before
the
queen
.
Louis
XIII
,
like
every
weak
mind
,
was
wanting
in
generosity
.
But
the
king
soon
again
became
dull
and
indisposed
;
his
brow
was
not
one
of
those
that
long
remain
clear
.
He
felt
that
in
returning
to
camp
he
should
re-enter
slavery
;
nevertheless
,
he
did
return
.
The
cardinal
was
for
him
the
fascinating
serpent
,
and
himself
the
bird
which
flies
from
branch
to
branch
without
power
to
escape
.
The
return
to
La
Rochelle
,
therefore
,
was
profoundly
dull
.
Our
four
friends
,
in
particular
,
astonished
their
comrades
;
they
traveled
together
,
side
by
side
,
with
sad
eyes
and
heads
lowered
.
Athos
alone
from
time
to
time
raised
his
expansive
brow
;
a
flash
kindled
in
his
eyes
,
and
a
bitter
smile
passed
over
his
lips
,
then
,
like
his
comrades
,
he
sank
again
into
reverie
.
As
soon
as
the
escort
arrived
in
a
city
,
when
they
had
conducted
the
king
to
his
quarters
the
four
friends
either
retired
to
their
own
or
to
some
secluded
cabaret
,
where
they
neither
drank
nor
played
;
they
only
conversed
in
a
low
voice
,
looking
around
attentively
to
see
that
no
one
overheard
them
.
One
day
,
when
the
king
had
halted
to
fly
the
magpie
,
and
the
four
friends
,
according
to
their
custom
,
instead
of
following
the
sport
had
stopped
at
a
cabaret
on
the
high
road
,
a
man
coming
from
la
Rochelle
on
horseback
pulled
up
at
the
door
to
drink
a
glass
of
wine
,
and
darted
a
searching
glance
into
the
room
where
the
four
Musketeers
were
sitting
.
"
Holloa
,
Monsieur
d'Artagnan
!
"
said
he
,
"
is
not
that
you
whom
I
see
yonder
?
"
