gent gentleman, and suffered himself to be led on by the charm
of Aramis's wit and Porthos's cordial _bonhomie_.

"Pardon me," said he, "if I address a question to you; but men who are
in their sixth bottle have a clear right to forget themselves a little."

"Address it!" cried Porthos; "address it!"

"Speak," said Aramis.

"Were you not, gentlemen, both in the musketeers of the late king?"

"Yes, monsieur, and amongst the best of them, if you please," said
Porthos.

"That is true; I should say even the best of all soldiers, messieurs, if
I did not fear to offend the memory of my father."

"Of your father?" cried Aramis.

"Do you know what my name is?"

"_Ma foi!_ no, monsieur; but you can tell us, and--"

"I am called Georges de Biscarrat."

"Oh!" cried Porthos, in his turn. "Biscarrat! Do you remember that name,
Aramis?"

"Biscarrat!" reflected the bishop. "It seems to me--"

"Try to recollect, monsieur," said the officer.

"_Pardieu!_ that won't take me long," said Porthos. "Biscarrat--called
Cardinal--one of the four who interrupted us on the day on which we
formed our friendship with D'Artagnan, sword in hand."

"Precisely, gentlemen."

"The only one," cried Aramis, eagerly, "we could not scratch."

"Consequently, a capital blade?" said the prisoner.

"That's true! most true!" exclaimed both friends together. "_Ma foi!_
Monsieur Biscarrat, we are delighted to make the acquaintance of such a
brave man's son."

Biscarrat pressed the hands held out by the two musketeers. Aramis
looked at Porthos as much as to say, "Here is a man who will help us,"
and without delay,--"Confess, monsieur," said he, "that it is good to
have once been a good man."

"My father always said so, monsieur."

"Confess, likewise, that it is a sad circumstance in which you find
yourself, of falling in with men destined to be shot or hung, and
to learn that these men are old acquaintances, in fact, hereditary
friends."

"Oh! you are not reserved for such a frightful fate as that, messieurs
and friends!" said the young man, warmly.

"Bah! you said so yourself."

"I said so just now, when I did not know you; but now that I know you, I
say--you will evade this dismal fate, if you wish!"

"How--if we wish?" echoed Aramis, whose eyes beamed with intelligence as
he looked alternately at the prisoner and Porthos.

"Provided," continued Porthos, looking, in his turn, with noble
intrepidity, at M. Biscarrat and the bishop-