“Good heavens!”
“Yes,” said Aramis, phlegmatically; “I should lose a very good friend.”
At this moment, and in the middle of this idle conversation, under the light tone of which the two conspirators concealed their joy and pride at their mutual success, Aramis heard something which made him prick up his ears.
“What is that?” said Philippe.
“The dawn, Sire.”
“Well?”
“Well, before you retired to bed last night, you probably decided to do something this morning at the break of day.”
“Yes; I told my captain of the Musketeers,” replied the young man, hurriedly, “that I should expect him.”
“If you told him that, he will certainly be here, for he is a most punctual man.”
“I hear a step in the vestibule.”
“It must be he.”
“Come, let us begin the attack,” said the young King, resolutely.
“Be cautious, for heaven’s sake; to begin the attack, and with d’Artagnan, would be madness. D’Artagnan knows nothing, he has seen nothing. He is a hundred leagues from suspecting our mystery; but if he comes into this room the first this morning, he will be sure to detect that something has taken place which he will think his business to occupy himself about. Before we allow d’Artagnan to penetrate into this room, we must air the room thoroughly, or introduce so many people into it that the keenest scent in the whole kingdom may be deceived by the traces of twenty different persons.”
“But how can I send him away, since I have given him a rendezvous?” observed the Prince, impatient to measure swords with so redoubtable an antagonist.
“I will take care of that,” replied the bishop; “and in order to begin, I am going to strike a blow which will completely stupefy our man.”
“He too is striking a blow, for I hear him at the door,” added the Prince, hurriedly.
And, in fact, a knock at the door was heard at that moment. Aramis was not mistaken; for it was indeed d’Artagnan who adopted that mode of announcing himself.
We have seen how he passed the night in philosophizing with M. Fouquet, but the musketeer was very wearied even of feigning to fall asleep, and as soon as the dawn illumined with its pale blue light the sumptuous cornices of the superintendent’s room, d’Artagnan rose from his arm-chair, arranged his sword, brushed his coat and hat with his sleeve, like a private soldier getting ready for inspection.
“Are you going out?” said Fouquet.
“Yes, Monseigneur. And you?”
“No; I shall remain.”
“You give me your word?”
“Certainly.”
“Very good. Besides, my only reason for going out is to try and get that reply: you know what I mean?”
“That sentence, you mean.”
“Stay, I have something of the old Roman in me. This morning, when I got up, I remarked that my sword had not caught in one of the aigulets, and that my shoulder-belt had slipped quite off. That is an infallible sign.”
“Of prosperity?”
“Yes; be sure of it,- for every time that that confounded belt of mine stuck fast to my back, it always signified a punishment from M. de Treville, or a refusal of money by M. de Mazarin. Every time my sword hung fast to my shoulder-belt, it always predicted some disagreeable commission or other for me to execute; and I have had showers of them all my life through. Every time, too, my sword danced about in its sheath, a duel, fortunate in its result, was sure to follow; whenever it dangled about the calves of my legs, it was a slight wound; every time it fell completely out of the scabbard, I was booked, and made up my mind that I should have to remain on the field of battle, with two or three months under the surgeon’s care into the bargain.”
“I never knew your sword kept you so well informed,” said Fouquet, with a faint smile, which showed how he was struggling against his own weaknesses. “Is your sword bewitched, or under the influence of some charm?”
“Why, you must know that my sword may almost be regarded as part of my own body. I have heard that certain men seem to have warnings given them by feeling something the matter with their legs, or by a throbbing of their temples. With me, it is my sword that warns me. Well, it told me of nothing this morning. But stay a moment; look here, it has just fallen of its own accord into the last hole of the belt. Do you know what that is a warning of?”