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Updated: June 1, 2025
"No, pardieu! I was one already, having nothing. Let us change." "Then be prodigal." "Still less, Mordioux! Debts terrify me. Creditors appear to me, by anticipation like those devils who turn the damned upon the gridirons, and as patience is not my dominant virtue, I am always tempted to thrash those devils." "You are the wisest man I know, and stand in no need of advice from any one.
In a year come to me, and, Mordioux! I will make something of you." Menneville swore, as his comrades had sworn, that he would be as silent as the grave. And yet some one must have spoken; and as, certainly, it was not one of the nine companions, and quite as certainly, it was not Menneville, it must have been D'Artagnan, who, in his quality of a Gascon, had his tongue very near to his lips.
Charles, by skillfully husbanding his generosity, had given the duke time to wish, although he might not have wished for so much as was given him. "Mordioux!" grumbled D'Artagnan, "there is the shower beginning again! Oh! it is enough to turn one's brain!" and he turned away with an air so sorrowful and so comically piteous, that the king, who caught it, could not restrain a smile.
"It is that if you cannot get me out of the Bastile, and I remain there Oh! that will be so, and I shall be a detestable prisoner; I, who have been a passable man, in that case, I give three-fifths to you, and the fourth to your father." "Chevalier!" "Mordioux! If you will have some masses said for me, you are welcome."
"He is an exceptional man. He does not love you; so much is very possible; but, mordioux! the squirrel can guard himself against the adder with very little trouble." "Do you know that you are speaking to me quite as a friend?" replied Fouquet; "and that, upon my life! I have never met with a man of your intelligence, and heart?" "You are pleased to say so," replied D'Artagnan.
"That's the way," said the giant, not letting the rock fall again, but placing it upon its support. "Mordioux!" cried D'Artagnan, "I know but one man capable of such a feat of strength." "Hein!" cried the colossus, turning round. "Porthos!" murmured D'Artagnan, seized with stupor, "Porthos at Belle-Isle!"
Porthos is engaged in it." Being now satisfied of what he wished to know: "Mordioux!" thought the musketeer, "what is to be done with that poor devil of a soldier? That hot-headed, cunning fellow, De Baisemeaux, will make him pay dearly for my trick, if he returns without the letter, what will they do to him?
"Ah! good God!" articulated Planchet, drawing back before the dazzling fire of his looks. "Imbecile!" cried D'Artagnan, "you think me mad! Mordioux! On the contrary, never was my head more clear, or my heart more joyous. To the bags, Planchet, to the bags!" "But to what bags, good heavens!" D'Artagnan pushed Planchet towards the window. "Under that shed yonder, don't you see a horse?" "Yes."
"Oh!" said Mousqueton, much affected, "I shall certainly write to him." "What!" cried D'Artagnan, "you will write to him?" "This very day; I shall not delay it an hour." "Is he not here, then?" "No, monsieur." "But is he near at hand? is he far off?" "Oh, can I tell, monsieur, can I tell?" "Mordioux!" cried the musketeer, stamping with his foot, "I am unfortunate. Porthos such a stay-at-home!"
"Oh! that is all the same to me; and king though he be, I would plainly tell him, 'Sire, imprison, exile, kill every one in France and Europe; order me to arrest and poniard even whom you like even were it Monsieur, your own brother; but do not touch one of the four musketeers, or if so, mordioux!"
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