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D'Artagnan and Porthos pointed to their dusty and torn dresses, but the cardinal shook his head. "Those costumes," he said, "are of more worth than most of those which you will see on the backs of the queen's courtiers; they are costumes of battle." D'Artagnan and Porthos obeyed.
D'Artagnan found Porthos in the adjoining chamber; but no longer an irritated Porthos, or a disappointed Porthos, but Porthos radiant, blooming, fascinating, and chattering with Moliere, who was looking upon him with a species of idolatry, and as a man would who had not only never seen anything greater, but not even ever anything so great.
"What! you complete so admirable a work as the fortifications of Belle-Isle, and you did not tell me of it!" Porthos colored.
"Pray, monsieur," concluded Porthos, mincingly, "above all, be exact." "You will have your dress the day after to-morrow, monsieur le baron," answered Moliere. And he left with Aramis. Then D'Artagnan, taking Porthos's arm, "What has this tailor done for you, my dear Porthos," he asked, "that you are so pleased with him?"
And yet it appears, in spite of all your diligence, you have arrived too late." "You see!" said Athos, pointing to Mme. Bonacieux dead, and to d'Artagnan, whom Porthos and Aramis were trying to recall to life. "Are they both dead?" asked Lord de Winter, sternly. "No," replied Athos, "fortunately Monsieur d'Artagnan has only fainted." "Ah, indeed, so much the better!" said Lord de Winter.
D'Artagnan whispered: "Everything your majesty sends me." Porthos repeated: "Everything your majesty sends me," an observation which the king apparently received with great satisfaction. "People eat well who work well," replied the king, delighted to have en tete-a-tete a guest who could eat as Porthos did. Porthos received the dish of lamb, and put a portion of it on his plate.
The good and worthy Porthos, faithful to all the laws of ancient chivalry, had determined to wait for M. de Saint-Aignan until sunset; and as Saint-Aignan did not come, as Raoul had forgotten to communicate with his second, and as he found that waiting so long was very wearisome, Porthos had desired one of the gate-keepers to fetch him a few bottles of good wine and a good joint of meat, so that, at least, he might pass away the time by means of a glass or two and a mouthful of something to eat.
At this word Athos and Aramis jumped up. Porthos drew back a step. Daggers and swords were just about to shine, when suddenly the door was thrown open and Harrison appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a man enveloped in a large cloak. Behind this man could be seen the glistening muskets of half a dozen soldiers.
"Eh! yes, he has been seeking you, Aramis," said Porthos, "and the proof is that he has unharbored me at Belle-Isle. That is amiable, is it not?" "Ah! yes," said Aramis, "at Belle-Isle! certainly!" "Good!" said D'Artagnan; "there is my booby Porthos, without thinking of it, has fired the first cannon of attack." "At Belle-Isle!" said Aramis, "in that hole, in that desert! That is kind, indeed!"
This silence and this interruption in serving, which were unintelligible to Porthos, had, on the contrary, a terrible meaning for the clerks. Upon a look from the procurator, accompanied by a smile from Mme. Coquenard, they arose slowly from the table, folded their napkins more slowly still, bowed, and retired. "Go, young men! go and promote digestion by working," said the procurator, gravely.
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