They set out on Vulcan and Bayard, followed by Mousqueton on Phoebus, and arrived at the Palais Royal at about a quarter to seven.  The streets were crowded, for it was the day of Pentecost, and the crowd looked in wonder at these two cavaliers; one as fresh as if he had come out of a bandbox, the other so covered with dust that he looked as if he had but just come off a field of battle.

Mousqueton also attracted attention; and as the romance of Don Quixote was then the fashion, they said that he was Sancho, who, after having lost one master, had found two.

On reaching the palace, D’Artagnan sent to his eminence the letter in which he had been ordered to return without delay.  He was soon ordered to the presence of the cardinal.

“Courage!” he whispered to Porthos, as they proceeded.  “Do not be intimidated.  Believe me, the eye of the eagle is closed forever.  We have only the vulture to deal with.  Hold yourself as bolt upright as on the day of the bastion of St. Gervais, and do not bow too low to this Italian; that might give him a poor idea of you.”

“Good!” answered Porthos.  “Good!”

Mazarin was in his study, working at a list of pensions and benefices, of which he was trying to reduce the number.  He saw D’Artagnan and Porthos enter with internal pleasure, yet showed no joy in his countenance.

“Ah! you, is it?  Monsieur le lieutenant, you have been very prompt.  ’Tis well.  Welcome to ye.”

“Thanks, my lord.  Here I am at your eminence’s service, as well as Monsieur du Vallon, one of my old friends, who used to conceal his nobility under the name of Porthos.”

Porthos bowed to the cardinal.

“A magnificent cavalier,” remarked Mazarin.

Porthos turned his head to the right and to the left, and drew himself up with a movement full of dignity.

“The best swordsman in the kingdom, my lord,” said D’Artagnan.

Porthos bowed to his friend.

Mazarin was as fond of fine soldiers as, in later times, Frederick of Prussia used to be.  He admired the strong hands, the broad shoulders and the steady eye of Porthos.  He seemed to see before him the salvation of his administration and of the kingdom, sculptured in flesh and bone.  He remembered that the old association of musketeers was composed of four persons.

“And your two other friends?” he asked.

Porthos opened his mouth, thinking it a good opportunity to put in a word in his turn; D’Artagnan checked him by a glance from the corner of his eye.

“They are prevented at this moment, but will join us later.”

Mazarin coughed a little.

“And this gentleman, being disengaged, takes to the service willingly?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord, and from pure devotion to the cause, for Monsieur de Bracieux is rich.”

“Rich!” said Mazarin, whom that single word always inspired with a great respect.