much the worse for you, my dear host, so much the worse! When I
am happy, I wish all the world to be so; but it appears that is not
possible."

The young man departed, laughing at the joke, which he thought he alone
could comprehend.

"Amuse yourself well!" replied Bonacieux, in a sepulchral tone.

But d'Artagnan was too far off to hear him; and if he had heard him in
the disposition of mind he then enjoyed, he certainly would not have
remarked it.

He took his way toward the hotel of M. de Treville; his visit of the
day before, it is to be remembered, had been very short and very little
explicative.

He found Treville in a joyful mood. He had thought the king and queen
charming at the ball. It is true the cardinal had been particularly
ill-tempered. He had retired at one o'clock under the pretense of being
indisposed. As to their Majesties, they did not return to the Louvre
till six o'clock in the morning.

"Now," said Treville, lowering his voice, and looking into every corner
of the apartment to see if they were alone, "now let us talk about
yourself, my young friend; for it is evident that your happy return has
something to do with the joy of the king, the triumph of the queen, and
the humiliation of his Eminence. You must look out for yourself."

"What have I to fear," replied d'Artagnan, "as long as I shall have the
luck to enjoy the favor of their Majesties?"

"Everything, believe me. The cardinal is not the man to forget a
mystification until he has settled account with the mystifier; and the
mystifier appears to me to have the air of being a certain young Gascon
of my acquaintance."

"Do you believe that the cardinal is as well posted as yourself, and
knows that I have been to London?"

"The devil! You have been to London! Was it from London you brought
that beautiful diamond that glitters on your finger? Beware, my dear
d'Artagnan! A present from an enemy is not a good thing. Are there not
some Latin verses upon that subject? Stop!"

"Yes, doubtless," replied d'Artagnan, who had never been able to cram
the first rudiments of that language into his head, and who had by his
ignorance driven his master to despair, "yes, doubtless there is one."

"There certainly is one," said M. de Treville, who had a tincture of
literature, "and Monsieur de Benserade was quoting it to me the other
day. Stop a minute--ah, this is it: 'Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes,'
which means, 'Beware of the enemy who makes you