“It sometimes happens,- very often indeed,” pursued Porthos,- “that my friend has not been insulted at all; he has even been the first to give offence. You can imagine, therefore, whether my language is not well chosen”; and Porthos burst into a peal of laughter.
“Decidedly,” said Raoul to himself, while the formidable thunder of Porthos’s laughter was ringing in his ears’ “I am very unfortunate. De Guiche treats me with coldness, d’Artagnan with ridicule, Porthos is too tame; no one is ready to ‘arrange’ this affair in my way. And I came to Porthos because I wished to find a sword instead of cold reasoning. Ah, what wretched luck!”
Porthos, who had recovered himself, continued: “By a simple expression, I leave my adversary without an excuse.”
“That is as it may happen,” said Raoul, indifferently.
“Not at all; it is quite certain. I have not left him an excuse; and then it is that I display all my courtesy, in order to attain the happy issue of my project. I advance, therefore, with an air of great politeness, and taking my adversary by the hand-”
“Oh!” said Raoul, impatiently.
“‘Monsieur,’ I say to him, ‘now that you are convinced of having given the offence, we are sure of reparation; between my friend and yourself the future can offer only an exchange of gracious ceremonies. Consequently I am instructed to give you the length of my friend’s sword-‘”
“What!” said Raoul.
“Wait a minute!- ‘the length of my friend’s sword. My horse is waiting below; my friend is in such and such a spot, and is impatiently awaiting your agreeable society. I will take you with me; we can call upon your second as we go along. The affair is arranged.'”
“And so,” said Raoul, pale with vexation, “You reconcile the two adversaries on the ground.”
“I beg your pardon,” interrupted Porthos. “Reconcile? What for?”
“You said that the affair was arranged.”
“Of course! since my friend is waiting for him.”
“Well, what then? If he is waiting-”
“Well, if he is waiting, it is merely to stretch his legs a little; the adversary, on the contrary, is stiff from riding. They place themselves in proper order, and my friend kills his opponent; the affair is ended.”
“Ah! he kills him?” cried Raoul.
“I should think so,” said Porthos. “It is likely I should ever have as a friend a man who allows himself to get killed? I have a hundred and one friends; at the head of the list stand your father, Aramis, and d’Artagnan,- all of whom are living and well, I believe.”
“Oh, my dear baron!” exclaimed Raoul, delightedly, as he embraced Porthos.
“You approve of my method, then?” said the giant.
“I approve of it so thoroughly that I shall have recourse to it this very day, without a moment’s delay,- at once, in fact. You are the very man I have been looking for.”
“Good! Here I am, then. You want to fight?”
“Absolutely so.”
“It is very natural. With whom?”
“With M. de Saint-Aignan.”
“I know him,- a most agreeable man, who was exceedingly polite to me the day I had the honor of dining with the King. I shall certainly return his politeness, even if that were not my usual custom. So, he has given you offence?”
“A mortal offence.”
“The devil! I can say ‘mortal offence’?”
“More than that, even, if you like.”
“That is very convenient.”
“I may look upon it as all arranged, may I not?” said Raoul, smiling.
“As a matter of course. Where will you be waiting for him?”
“Ah! I forgot. It is a very delicate matter. M. de Saint-Aignan is a great friend of the King.”
“So I have heard it said.”
“So that if I kill him-”
“Oh, you will kill him certainly; you must take every precaution to do so! But there is no difficulty in these matters now; if you had lived in our early days,- oh, that was something like!”
“My dear friend, you have not quite understood me. I mean that M. de Saint-Aignan being a friend of the King, the affair will be more difficult to manage, since the King might learn beforehand-“