“Who are you?” said the same voice, in the same commanding tone. “Answer in your turn, or you may repent of your disobedience.”
“King’s Musketeers,” said Athos, more and more convinced that he who interrogated them had the right to do so.
“What company?”
“Company of Treville.”
“Advance, and give an account of what you are doing here at this hour.”
The three companions advanced rather humbly–for all were now convinced that they had to do with someone more powerful than themselves–leaving Athos the post of speaker.
One of the two riders, he who had spoken second, was ten paces in front of his companion. Athos made a sign to Porthos and Aramis also to remain in the rear, and advanced alone.
“Your pardon, my officer,” said Athos; “but we were ignorant with whom we had to do, and you may see that we were good guard.”
“Your name?” said the officer, who covered a part of his face with his cloak.
“But yourself, monsieur,” said Athos, who began to be annoyed by this inquisition, “give me, I beg you, the proof that you have the right to question me.”
“Your name?” repeated the cavalier a second time, letting his cloak fall, and leaving his face uncovered.
“Monsieur the Cardinal!” cried the stupefied Musketeer.
“Your name?” cried his Eminence, for the third time.
“Athos,” said the Musketeer.
The cardinal made a sign to his attendant, who drew near. “These three Musketeers shall follow us,” said he, in an undertone. “I am not willing it should be known I have left the camp; and if they follow us we shall be certain they will tell nobody.”
“We are gentlemen, monseigneur,” said Athos; “require our parole, and give yourself no uneasiness. Thank God, we can keep a secret.”
The cardinal fixed his piercing eyes on this courageous speaker.
“You have a quick ear, Monsieur Athos,” said the cardinal; “but now listen to this. It is not from mistrust that I request you to follow me, but for my security. Your companions are no doubt Messieurs Porthos and Aramis.”
“Yes, your Eminence,” said Athos, while the two Musketeers who had remained behind advanced hat in hand.
“I know you, gentlemen,” said the cardinal, “I know you. I know you are not quite my friends, and I am sorry you are not so; but I know you are brave and loyal gentlemen, and that confidence may be placed in you. Monsieur Athos, do me, then, the honor to accompany me; you and your two friends, and then I shall have an escort to excite envy in his Majesty, if we should meet him.”
The three Musketeers bowed to the necks of their horses.
“Well, upon my honor,” said Athos, “your Eminence is right in taking us with you; we have seen several ill-looking faces on the road, and we have even had a quarrel at the Red Dovecot with four of those faces.”
“A quarrel, and what for, gentlemen?” said the cardinal; “you know I don’t like quarrelers.”
“And that is the reason why I have the honor to inform your Eminence of what has happened; for you might learn it from others, and upon a false account believe us to be in fault.”
“What have been the results of your quarrel?” said the cardinal, knitting his brow.
“My friend, Aramis, here, has received a slight sword wound in the arm, but not enough to prevent him, as your Eminence may see, from mounting to the assault tomorrow, if your Eminence orders an escalade.”
“But you are not the men to allow sword wounds to be inflicted upon you thus,” said the cardinal. “Come, be frank, gentlemen, you have settled accounts with somebody! Confess; you know I have the right of giving absolution.”
“I, monseigneur?” said Athos. “I did not even draw my sword, but I took him who offended me round the body, and threw him out of the window. It appears that in falling,” continued Athos, with some hesitation, “he broke his thigh.”
“Ah, ah!” said the cardinal; “and you, Monsieur Porthos?”
“I, monseigneur, knowing that dueling is prohibited–I seized a bench, and gave one of those brigands such a blow that I believe his shoulder is broken.”