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Mother Nanette began by picking up the louis; then she picked up Friquet. In the meantime the cortege returned to the Palais Royal. "That Monsieur d'Artagnan is a very brave man, mother," said the young king. "Yes, my son; and he rendered very important services to your father. Treat him kindly, therefore, in the future."
Comminges immediately left the church and entered the Rue Saint Christophe. Friquet, seeing this fine officer thus walk away, followed by two guards, amused himself by pursuing them and did this so much the more gladly as the ceremony ended at that instant and the king remounted his carriage.
Hardly had the police officer observed Comminges at the end of the Rue Cocatrix when he said one word to the coachman, who at once put his vehicle into motion and drove up before Broussel's door. Comminges knocked at the door at the same moment, and Friquet was waiting behind Comminges until the door should be opened. "What dost thou there, rascal?" asked Comminges.
And he answered 'that Monsieur Bazin went to Noisy. 'Tis his custom. He goes two or three times a week." "Dost thou know Noisy well?" "I think so, truly; my nurse lives there." "Is there a convent at Noisy?" "Isn't there a great and grand one the convent of Jesuits?" "What is thy name?" "Friquet." D'Artagnan wrote the child's name in his tablets.
"I wish to tell him," replied Friquet, screaming with all his might, "that there is a whole regiment of guards coming this way. And as I hear everywhere that at the court they are ill-disposed to him, I wish to warn him, that he may be on his guard."
The crowd gave place, the barricade was opened, and the marshal, with the remnant of his company, retreated, preceded by Friquet and his bandits, some of them making a presence of beating drums and others imitating the sound of the trumpet. It was almost a triumphal procession; only, behind the guards the barricades were closed again. The marshal bit his fingers.
All the world was occupied with the ceremony, so that neither the chariot nor the precautions taken by those who were within it had been observed. Friquet, whose eye, ever on the alert, could alone have discovered them, had gone to devour his apricots upon the entablature of a house in the square of Notre Dame.
Many curious faces had already appeared at the windows and the people attracted to the end of the street began to run, first men, then groups, and then a crowd of people; hearing cries and seeing a chariot they could not understand it; but Friquet sprang from the entresol on to the top of the carriage.
Upon a log, beneath the tree, appeared the dim brocade and the curled wig of M. Achille Pincornet, resting in the twilight and solacing his soul with the air of "Madelon Friquet." Around him sparkled the fireflies, and above were the thousand gold cups of the tulip tree. His bow achieved a long tremolo; he lowered the violin from his chin, stood up, and greeted the travellers.
Friquet counterfeited surprise, and twisting his new cap around in his fingers, said: "It is not astonishing for you to know it, Monsieur Broussel, who knows everything; but as for me, by holy truth, I did not know it and I thought I would give you good advice; you must not be angry with me for that, Monsieur Broussel." "On the contrary, my boy, on the contrary, I am pleased with your zeal.
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