At sunrise the boy had already left Batz and his estate, the skyline of the mountains became more and more tenuous and white, up to disappear and give way to the clouds, sometimes gray, a windy winter and tenuous or torrential rains, mud that covered his poor animal just above the tip of its ears.
There was a break in Toulouse and one near Clermont, before the mountains begin to be more rare and their white was replaced by the green valleys and milder hills of Bourges and Orleans.
Other foreingn cities and villages welcomed D'Artagnan in short overnight stops, always ready to leave at dawn with the pulsing desire to arrive as quickly as possible in Paris and see his dream finally came true.
The sun set not far from the goal, but that night there was no time to fall asleep, he would come before the king's palace in the morning.
He tried to stay awake until dawn, but once he arrived at an inn just off the Palace of the Louvre, sat on a bench with a glass of wine and tried to stay awake without success.
A few hours later he awoke in the local stables, the owner threw him out. Heated by the dampness of the thick tongue and grassy breath of his horse, opened his eyes and a strange sight appeared before him.
A military smiled at this scene from the top of his foal. Both royal and ecclesiastical emblems sported in his uniform that looked like that of a musketeer and certainly could not be described in any other way, but his uniform had little to do with the descriptions and stories told in Gascony.
"What beautiful equine you ride! It's a donkey? "- The man asked in an accent that he had never heard before.
"It's a hack, but I say hack, is ahead of all its nags. So it Rocinante ... "- he replied D'Artagnan, proudly.
"What brings you to Paris?"- Asked the man, as if he had not heard the boy's words. He showed a certain age, perhaps the age he might have had his father, if he had lived, and seemed to show as much experience in the field: scars were running down his face, his hair had not yet whitened. It had one eye covered, perhaps the sign of a more serious misfortune to all others.
"I have a letter of recommendations to be presented to the Captain de Treville. I want to become a musketeer of the royal guard! "- Exclaimed the boy without fear.
The soldier in full uniform laughed vulgarly, but composed himself shortly after.
"Oh, it is a very noble gesture on your side. It so happens that I personally know Captain de Treville. If you want I can deliver myself your letter of recommendations"- he said, wiping away a tear of excitement and laughing still amused.
"No matter, I thank you immensely, but I would rather deliver it alone. Do you know where can I find him? "- asked again D'Artagnan, oddly intrigued by the fun of the military.
The man laughed again, so much that tears kept flowing from the corner of the tight eye, and he had to rub his nose and take a breath.
"Of course! Venture to the real barracks in the Louvre palace"- he said after a long pause.
"With great pleasure! I thank you for your help and thanks to good make!"- Exclaimed the boy, riding in the saddle of Rocinante and exchanging with the military a short nod.
Soon the young man understood the reason for that lot of fun: the only letter of recommendation he had would never get him to court, the captain would have to invite him.
D'Artagnan waited in front of the palace gates almost an entire day without the guards would find the Captain de Treville, and receive from him permission to let him in. Finding no answers but impassive faces of the guards, indifferent to his expectations, when the dusk stole away the last light of sunset and the chill of the evening became unbearable, the boy surrendered to his sadness and left out the palace gates to return at the inn.
Here laid another reality that came forward to him in the succession of things happened that fateful day: the money for that last glass of wine drunk in the morning were the last of his savings. The long journey had taken away most of the few gains of those winter months and only after the spring de Batz could earn some more.
Like them, however, even the innkeepers were starved of money and food in short supply at the end of that long winter, and so he was not allowed by the innkeeper neither in credit or clemency.
He returned on the dark road, from which beautiful moon was visible, not quite full, and it seemed immensely rich and great in the line of a horizon without mountains.
He leaned against the wall and sighed.
He could always give up his nobility and become a shepherd, or try to enter the most northern armies, far ahead of Rochelle, where a annal war had already claimed too many lives. However it was not the right fate for a musketeer, and did not want to just give up on the first day.
In the midst of these thoughts, a carriage approached the tired boy.
"What are you doing alone at this hour?" - Asked a voice from the window, he could see part of a woman's face, rosy lips and white as the moon itself.
"I ... I can not afford a room at the inn, I do not have enough money" - he said, more sincere in his regrets.
"I'm sorry. Your eyes are too beautiful, so young, do not deserve so much sadness ... Let me pay for you tonight! "- So saying, she reached out her hand in a fairly heavy bag. D'Artagnan opened it: it contained enough gold coins and meals for that night and perhaps for some later.
"Thank you! How could I ever repay such kindness of your favor? "- He asked, his face lit up with hope and let out a smile.
"I have a favor to ask of you just as important, you should accompany me to the royal residence, I have to deliver an urgent message to the Queen" - she said, popping her head and hands out of the carriage.
"With great pleasure! I'm just back from there, we are not far away"- he said.
She nodded satisfied and re-entered the vehicle.
"What a strange accent you have! You are not French! "- Cried D'Artagnan about leaving.
"No, I come across the sea, I'm English..." - she said, motioning to the tenant to resume the journey.
The boy followed them up to the carriage near the Royal Palace. There, the woman got out of his car and went up on the horse of the young. Under the directions of the mysterious lady both were introduced in the courtyard free from the sight of guards, and kept to an isolated wing of the building.
Here the mysterious lady asked for help to get down and disappeared into the shadows of some arches.
No guard surveilled the area while he was waiting, but a gentle voice broke the boredom of the night silence.
"Please announce" - said a shadow in front of him. It seemed to be quite young, but also frightened by his presence.
"Who are you? Please announce! "- Repeated the voice. From the depths of a dark coat, the blade of a small knife shined in the moonlight.
"Announce your arrival or I call the guards!" - Said the girl for the third time.
"My name is D'Artagnan," - he said.
"Are you here on behalf of The English?" - She asked, with more confident voice.
"Yes, The English has a message for the Queen ..." - he replied confidently, trying to comfort the girl.
"The Queen?" - She said in a trembling voice - "I thought was here for the Cardinal" - she whispered to himself, long blond hair sticking out from her cloak and wearing a light blue dress.
"And who would you be?" - Asked D'Artagnan.
"I'm a lady of the court at Queen Anna's service. Beware of what you just said. If misfortune happen at your arrival, I will personally come and look for you! "- Threatened her, hiding again the tool.
The young man looked at the slender silhouette of the young woman disappearing into the shadows and smiled at her strange attitude.
The English noblewoman soon returned and climbed nimbly on his horse, the two walked long courtyards of the Louvre Into the darkness of night, but soon the light of the lantern in the carriage radiated them again.
The boy got out of the saddle and helped the woman, in the last few minutes of greeting, he wished to dwell more about his new covenant and the reasons that led the mysterious lady.
D'Artagnan looked at her curiously. It was small, with bright, slightly wavy hair, was wearing clothes that did not remember ever to have seen before and which stood out parts of the female body that could not remember to have seen before.
He blushed and bowed to such beauty.
"Get up!" - She said, taking her hands in his. They were small and delicate as those of a doll.
"You've been of great help. I hope to meet you again for your services "- continued in the silence of the boy.
"Pardon the rudeness, but I will not be with you tonight, someone is waiting for me. Goodbye and good luck in Paris ... "- she turned away from him and the carriage disappeared soon from his view.
That night the sheets on his bed at the inn seemed to have the most fragrant smell, the meal most substantial, and sleep came almost unwittingly abandoning the worldliness of a frugal life in a city that never sleeps, even after sunset.
A smile gleamed across his sleeping face: Paris was really the city of dreams.