vement; he made a step toward the muskets, upon which the other
three friends had fixed their eyes, like men ill-disposed to allow
themselves to be taken. The cardinalists were three; the Musketeers,
lackeys included, were seven. He judged that the match would be so much
the less equal, if Athos and his companions were really plotting; and by
one of those rapid turns which he always had at command, all his anger
faded away into a smile.

"Well, well!" said he, "you are brave young men, proud in daylight,
faithful in darkness. We can find no fault with you for watching over
yourselves, when you watch so carefully over others. Gentlemen, I have
not forgotten the night in which you served me as an escort to the Red
Dovecot. If there were any danger to be apprehended on the road I am
going, I would request you to accompany me; but as there is none, remain
where you are, finish your bottles, your game, and your letter. Adieu,
gentlemen!"

And remounting his horse, which Cahusac led to him, he saluted them with
his hand, and rode away.

The four young men, standing and motionless, followed him with their
eyes without speaking a single word until he had disappeared. Then they
looked at one another.

The countenances of all gave evidence of terror, for notwithstanding the
friendly adieu of his Eminence, they plainly perceived that the cardinal
went away with rage in his heart.

Athos alone smiled, with a self-possessed, disdainful smile.

When the cardinal was out of hearing and sight, "That Grimaud kept bad
watch!" cried Porthos, who had a great inclination to vent his ill-humor
on somebody.

Grimaud was about to reply to excuse himself. Athos lifted his finger,
and Grimaud was silent.

"Would you have given up the letter, Aramis?" said d'Artagnan.

"I," said Aramis, in his most flutelike tone, "I had made up my mind.
If he had insisted upon the letter being given up to him, I would have
presented the letter to him with one hand, and with the other I would
have run my sword through his body."

"I expected as much," said Athos; "and that was why I threw myself
between you and him. Indeed, this man is very much to blame for talking
thus to other men; one would say he had never had to do with any but
women and children."

"My dear Athos, I admire you, but nevertheless we were in the wrong,
after all."

"How, in the wrong?" said Athos. "Whose, then, is the air we breathe?
Whose is the ocean upon which we look? Whos