"Oh, oh!"

"I ask for my discharge, or I will take it."

"You are angry, monsieur?"

"I have reason, _mordioux!_ Thirty-two hours in the saddle, I ride day
and night, I perform prodigies of speed, I arrive stiff as the corpse of
a man who has been hung - and another arrives before me! Come, sire, I
am a fool! - My discharge, sire!"

"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Louis, leaning his white hand upon the dusty
arm of the musketeer, "what I tell you will not at all affect that which
I promised you. A king's word given must be kept." And the king going
straight to his table, opened a drawer, and took out a folded paper.
"Here is your commission of captain of musketeers; you have won it,
Monsieur d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan opened the paper eagerly, and scanned it twice. He could
scarcely believe his eyes.

"And this commission is given you," continued the king, "not only on
account of your journey to Belle-Isle but, moreover, for your brave
intervention at the Place de Greve. There, likewise, you served me
valiantly."

"Ah, ah!" said D'Artagnan, without his self-command being able to prevent
a blush from mounting to his eyes - "you know that also, sire?"