similar way to you and you also deceived me.”
“Really, monsieur, you say strange things,” said Aramis.
“You came seeking me to make to me certain proposals, but
did you make them? No, you sounded me, nothing more. Very
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well what did I say to you? that Mazarin was contemptible
and that I wouldn’t serve Mazarin. But that is all. Did I
tell you that I wouldn’t serve any other? On the contrary, I
gave you to understand, I think, that I adhered to the
princes. We even joked very pleasantly, if I remember
rightly, on the very probable contingency of your being
charged by the cardinal with my arrest. Were you a party
man? There is no doubt of that. Well, why should not we,
too, belong to a party? You had your secret and we had ours;
we didn’t exchange them. So much the better; it proves that
we know how to keep our secrets.”
“I do not reproach you, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan; “’tis
only because Monsieur de la Fere has spoken of friendship
that I question your conduct.”
“And what do you find in it that is worthy of blame?” asked
Aramis, haughtily.
The blood mounted instantly to the temples of D’Artagnan,
who arose, and replied:
“I consider it worthy conduct of a pupil of Jesuits.”
On seeing D’Artagnan rise, Porthos rose also; these four men
were therefore all standing at the same time, with a
menacing aspect, opposite to each other.
Upon hearing D’Artagnan’s reply, Aramis seemed about to draw
his sword, when Athos prevented him.
“D’Artagnan,” he said, “you are here to-night, still
infuriated by yesterday’s adventure. I believed your heart
noble enough to enable a friendship of twenty years to
overcome an affront of a quarter of an hour. Come, do you
really think you have anything to say against me? Say it
then; if I am in fault I will avow the error.”
The grave and harmonious tones of that beloved voice seemed
to have still its ancient influence, whilst that of Aramis,
which had become harsh and tuneless in his moments of
ill-humor, irritated him. He answered therefore:
“I think, monsieur le comte, that you had something to
communicate to me at your chateau of Bragelonne, and that
gentleman” — he pointed to Aramis — “had also something to
tell me when I was in his convent. At that time I was not
concerned in the adventure, in the course of which you have
so successfully estopped me! However, because I was prudent
you must not take me for a fool. If I had wished to widen
the breach between those whom Monsieur d’Herblay chooses to
receive with a rope ladder and those whom he receives with a
wooden ladder, I could have spoken out.”
“What are you meddling with?” cried Aramis, pale with anger,
suspecting that D’Artagnan had acted as a spy on him and had
seen him with Madame de Longueville.
“I never meddle save with what concerns me, and I know how
to make believe that I haven’t seen what does not concern
me; but I hate hypocrites, and among that number I place
musketeers who are abbes and abbes who are musketeers; and,”
he added, turning to Porthos “here’s a gentleman who’s of
the same opinion as myself.”
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Porthos, who had not spoken one word, answered merely by a
word and a gesture.
He said “yes” and he put his hand on his sword.
Aramis started back and drew his. D’Artagnan bent forward,
ready either to attack or to stand on his defense.
Athos at that moment extended his hand with the air of
supreme command which characterized him alone, drew out his
sword and the scabbard at the same time, broke the blade in
the sheath on his knee and threw the pieces to his right.
Then turning to Aramis:
“Aramis,” he said, “break your sword.”
Aramis hesitated.
“It must be done,” said Athos; then in a lower and more
gentle voice, he added. “I wish it.”
Then Aramis, paler than before, but subdued by these words,
snapped the serpent blade between his hands, and then