nius of intrigue--did all he could to make out who Athos,
Porthos, and Aramis really were (for under these pseudonyms each of
these young men concealed his family name)--Athos in particular, who, a
league away, savored of nobility. He addressed himself then to Porthos
to gain information respecting Athos and Aramis, and to Aramis in order
to learn something of Porthos.

Unfortunately Porthos knew nothing of the life of his silent companion
but what revealed itself. It was said Athos had met with great crosses
in love, and that a frightful treachery had forever poisoned the life
of this gallant man. What could this treachery be? All the world was
ignorant of it.

As to Porthos, except his real name (as was the case with those of his
two comrades), his life was very easily known. Vain and indiscreet, it
was as easy to see through him as through a crystal. The only thing to
mislead the investigator would have been belief in all the good things
he said of himself.

With respect to Aramis, though having the air of having nothing secret
about him, he was a young fellow made up of mysteries, answering little
to questions put to him about others, and having learned from him the
report which prevailed concerning the success of the Musketeer with a
princess, wished to gain a little insight into the amorous adventures of
his interlocutor. "And you, my dear companion," said he, "you speak of
the baronesses, countesses, and princesses of others?"

"PARDIEU! I spoke of them because Porthos talked of them himself,
because he had paraded all these fine things before me. But be assured,
my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, that if I had obtained them from any other
source, or if they had been confided to me, there exists no confessor
more discreet than myself."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," replied d'Artagnan; "but it seems to me that
you are tolerably familiar with coats of arms--a certain embroidered
handkerchief, for instance, to which I owe the honor of your
acquaintance?"

This time Aramis was not angry, but assumed the most modest air and
replied in a friendly tone, "My dear friend, do not forget that I wish
to belong to the Church, and that I avoid all mundane opportunities. The
handkerchief you saw had not been given to me, but it had been forgotten
and left at my house by one of my friends. I was obliged to pick it up
in order not to compromise him and the lady he loves. As for myself, I
neither have, nor desire to have, a mistress