er make anything but a very bad
secretary. Where your life was spared! For shame! that's unworthy. A man
of spirit is not to be reminded of such services. A benefit reproached
is an offense committed."

"The devil!" said d'Artagnan, "you are insupportable. If the letter must
be written under your censure, my faith, I renounce the task."

"And you will do right. Handle the musket and the sword, my dear fellow.
You will come off splendidly at those two exercises; but pass the pen
over to Monsieur Abbe. That's his province."

"Ay, ay!" said Porthos; "pass the pen to Aramis, who writes theses in
Latin."

"Well, so be it," said d'Artagnan. "Draw up this note for us, Aramis;
but by our Holy Father the Pope, cut it short, for I shall prune you in
my turn, I warn you."

"I ask no better," said Aramis, with that ingenious air of confidence
which every poet has in himself; "but let me be properly acquainted with
the subject. I have heard here and there that this sister-in-law was a
hussy. I have obtained proof of it by listening to her conversation with
the cardinal."

"Lower! SACRE BLEU!" said Athos.

"But," continued Aramis, "the details escape me."

"And me also," said Porthos.

D'Artagnan and Athos looked at each other for some time in silence.
At length Athos, after serious reflection and becoming more pale than
usual, made a sign of assent to d'Artagnan, who by it understood he was
at liberty to speak.

"Well, this is what you have to say," said d'Artagnan: "My Lord, your
sister-in-law is an infamous woman, who wished to have you killed that
she might inherit your wealth; but she could not marry your brother,
being already married in France, and having been--" d'Artagnan stopped,
as if seeking for the word, and looked at Athos.

"Repudiated by her husband," said Athos.

"Because she had been branded," continued d'Artagnan.

"Bah!" cried Porthos. "Impossible! What do you say--that she wanted to
have her brother-in-law killed?"

"Yes."

"She was married?" asked Aramis.

"Yes."

"And her husband found out that she had a fleur-de-lis on her shoulder?"
cried Porthos.

"Yes."

These three yeses had been pronounced by Athos, each with a sadder
intonation.

"And who has seen this fleur-de-lis?" inquired Aramis.

"d'Artagnan and I. Or rather, to observe the chronological order, I and
d'Artagnan," replied Athos.

"And does the husband of this frightful creature still live?" said
Aramis.

"He still li