was the
getting from this woman a kind of carte blanche which she had extorted
from the cardinal, and by means of which she could with impunity get rid
of you and perhaps of us."

"But this creature must be a demon!" said Porthos, holding out his plate
to Aramis, who was cutting up a fowl.

"And this carte blanche," said d'Artagnan, "this carte blanche, does it
remain in her hands?"

"No, it passed into mine; I will not say without trouble, for if I did I
should tell a lie."

"My dear Athos, I shall no longer count the number of times I am
indebted to you for my life."

"Then it was to go to her that you left us?" said Aramis.

"Exactly."

"And you have that letter of the cardinal?" said d'Artagnan.

"Here it is," said Athos; and he took the invaluable paper from the
pocket of his uniform. D'Artagnan unfolded it with one hand, whose
trembling he did not even attempt to conceal, to read:

Dec. 3, 1627

It is by my order and for the good of the state that the bearer of this
has done what he has done.

"Richelieu"

"In fact," said Aramis, "it is an absolution according to rule."

"That paper must be torn to pieces," said d'Artagnan, who fancied he
read in it his sentence of death.

"On the contrary," said Athos, "it must be preserved carefully. I would
not give up this paper if covered with as many gold pieces."

"And what will she do now?" asked the young man.

"Why," replied Athos, carelessly, "she is probably going to write to
the cardinal that a damned Musketeer, named Athos, has taken her
safe-conduct from her by force; she will advise him in the same letter
to get rid of his two friends, Aramis and Porthos, at the same time.
The cardinal will remember that these are the same men who have often
crossed his path; and then some fine morning he will arrest d'Artagnan,
and for fear he should feel lonely, he will send us to keep him company
in the Bastille."

"Go to! It appears to me you make dull jokes, my dear," said Porthos.

"I do not jest," said Athos.

"Do you know," said Porthos, "that to twist that damned Milady's neck
would be a smaller sin than to twist those of these poor devils of
Huguenots, who have committed no other crime than singing in French the
psalms we sing in Latin?"

"What says the abbe?" asked Athos, quietly.

"I say I am entirely of Porthos's opinion," replied Aramis.

"And I, too," said d'Artagnan.

"Fortunately, she is far off," said Porthos, "for I confess she