It's a nasty day.

Meanwhile, somewhere on Feru Street. — Dear friends, why do all the clashes constantly happen near my house?! — Athos shouted, simultaneously waving away the enemies advancing on him. — What can you do if you prefer to drink in taverns closer to home?! — Porthos answered him, throwing away his sword and fighting hand-to-hand with the guards. — Ooooh, Monsieur de Jussac, what a meeting! I didn’t expect to see the lieutenant of the cardinal’s guards in such a not entirely sober state, but today is fasting! We will try to bring the reader up to date. While the king and the cardinal were spending time chatting pleasantly in the garden, another skirmish occurred between their guards. It was an ordinary cloudy day. Friday. The four musketeers were able to ask the captain for a day off and planned to go to a tavern, and then go home or to the houses of their mistresses. But, “by an amazing coincidence,” the guards decided to visit the same tavern. It all started with a squabble between Aramis and some acquaintance of his. Then it escalated into a fight between all the guards and musketeers in the tavern. Then help arrived to the guards, in the form of a detachment of about ten people. After the cry: “Musketeers, to the rescue!”, there were even more people. Events were swift, and within an hour in the unfortunate tavern on Ferou Street everything was mixed up: blue and red cloaks, Desesar’s guards and onlookers whose curiosity did not allow them to sit at home. De Traville personally went to clear up the situation; he hoped to the last to settle the incident so that he could then present it to the king as an ordinary skirmish, which often happens. At the same time, Count Rochefort was already hurrying there, afraid to get away from the duke. This incident was already known throughout Paris, and only Louis and Richelieu sat calmly in the gazebo of the palace garden, not suspecting anything. *** Why do you think the two most influential people in France, and perhaps all of Europe, have not yet been informed about what is happening? The fact is that at best de Treville reported to the king about the musketeers’ tricks, and if he was late, the cardinal. The captain of the royal musketeers was at the epicenter of events, and Richelieu, as we know, was next to Louis and calmly drank tea in such a romantic setting (yes, dear read, it had already come to tea, and it could go further). No one else would report such a thing to the king, for fear of becoming a personal enemy of de Treville or the “Red Duke” (as the cardinal began to be called with the help of Aramis), depending on whose side would be presented as a malicious violator of the edicts and the originator of the conflict. *** —And here’s another anecdote from the life of our dear Count Rochefort… Richelieu said quietly, catching his breath from laughter. With a sly smile and sparkling eyes, Louis, continuing to laugh, but not so loudly and boomingly, raised his gaze to the minister. The king was simply happy. For two hours now, he and Richelieu had been sitting quietly in the garden, and no one bothered them with any questions, matters or problems. —Oh, cousin, how I wish we had days like this more often. — Louis said dreamily, looking at the sky and simultaneously snacking on his words with a wonderful cake. Here the cardinal leaned towards the monarch’s face through a small table brought into the gazebo along with two neat half-chairs, so that Louis could feel his breath on him. The king impudently looked straight into Richelieu’s eyes. He hesitated for a couple of moments and, languidly closing his potato eyes, no, blinking… Ugh, eyes! He said meaningfully, stretching his lips into what he thought was a charming smile: “Sire, I would.” Alas, he was not destined to finish, because our narrative requires us to continue the story about the events on Feru Street. *** — Damn it! Damn, a thousand devils! — de Treville could have used stronger words (and did so without much embarrassment), but we will not disturb the atmosphere of an entertaining story. —You understand what the consequences will be when His Majesty finds out about such a robbery! De Treville was furious. Rochefort, who arrived later, stood in the shadows and pierced the sobered guardsmen with evil glances, but was in no hurry to intervene. There were fewer and fewer people. All the onlookers had long fled, fearing to be punished for other people’s deeds. The sobered musketeers repented or very skillfully feigned remorse, which, in general, was not the first time for them. Let’s skip the scene of moralizing and reprimands. Let me just say that half an hour later, de Treville, having let off steam and calmed down a little, was driving to the Louvre, thinking about how to justify himself to the king.