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"I! Oh, tell me all about that, pray, Aramis?" "Yes, it was related to me, a poor bishop, lost in the middle of the Landes, that the king had taken you as the confidant of his amours." "With whom?" "With Mademoiselle de Mancini." D'Artagnan breathed freely again. "Ah! I don't say no to that," replied he.
"Well, captain, so you have brought M. d'Herblay to me." "And something better still, monseigneur." "What is that?" "Liberty." "I am free!" "Yes; by the king's order." Fouquet resumed his usual serenity, that he might interrogate Aramis with a look.
Having once disposed the king's mind in this artful way, Colbert had nothing of much importance to detain him. He felt that such was the case, for the king, too, had again sunk into a dull and gloomy state. Colbert awaited the first words from the king's lips with as much impatience as Philippe and Aramis did from their place of observation.
"See, monsieur, if you please; the apartments of the presbytery are empty." "He is right there," said D'Artagnan, looking attentively at the house, the aspect of which announced solitude. "But monseigneur must have written you an account of his promotion." "When did it take place?" "A month back." "Oh! then there is no time lost. Aramis cannot yet have wanted me.
Thus illumined, Aramis read the following epistle: "My dear D'Herblay, I learned from D'Artagnan who has embraced me on the part of the Comte de la Fere and yourself, that you are setting out on a journey which may perhaps last two or three months; as I know that you do not like to ask money of your friends I offer you some of my own accord.
"Four hundred and seventy-five livres," said d'Artagnan, who reckoned like Archimedes. "On our arrival in Paris, we shall still have four hundred, besides the harnesses," said Porthos. "But our troop horses?" said Aramis. "Well, of the four horses of our lackeys we will make two for the masters, for which we will draw lots.
"Dust I am, and to dust I return. Life is full of humiliations and sorrows," continued he, becoming still more melancholy; "all the ties which attach him to life break in the hand of man, particularly the golden ties. Oh, my dear d'Artagnan," resumed Aramis, giving to his voice a slight tone of bitterness, "trust me! Conceal your wounds when you have any; silence is the last joy of the unhappy.
"Give him the despatch, Raoul! you are the chevalier's prisoner." Raoul gave it up reluctantly; Aramis instantly seized and read it. "You," he said, "you, who are so trusting, read and reflect that there is something in this letter important for us to see."
"The soldiers of Louis XIV. have reached the island," continued Aramis. "From this time it would no longer be a fight betwixt them and you it would be a massacre. Begone, then, begone, and forget; this time I command you, in the name of the Lord of Hosts!" The mutineers retired slowly, submissive, silent. "Ah! what have you just been saying, my friend?" said Porthos.
"Shall we return to the camp?" said Porthos. "I don't think the sides are equal." "Impossible, for three reasons," replied Athos. "The first, that we have not finished breakfast; the second, that we still have some very important things to say; and the third, that it yet wants ten minutes before the lapse of the hour." "Well, then," said Aramis, "we must form a plan of battle."
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