ed that,
in his own loyal faith in D'Artagnan, any one could have thought of
himself, so long as there was a D'Artagnan in the world.

"Dear M. du Vallon," said Raoul, "do not question me any more, I implore
you. I have told you all that I had to say; it is prompt action I now
expect, sharp and decided as you know how to arrange it. That, indeed,
is my reason for having chosen you."

"You will be satisfied with me," replied Porthos.

"Do not forget, either, that, except ourselves, no one must know
anything of this meeting."

"People generally find these things out," said Porthos, dryly, "when
a dead body is discovered in a wood. But I promise everything, my dear
friend, except the concealment of the dead body. There it is, and it
must be seen, as a matter of course. It is a principle of mine, not to
bury bodies. That has a smack of the assassin about it. Every risk has
its peculiarities."

"To work, then, my dear friend."

"Rely upon me," said the giant, finishing the bottle, while a servant
spread out upon a sofa the gorgeously decorated dress trimmed with lace.

Raoul left the room, saying to himself, with a secret delight,
"Perfidious king! traitorous monarch! I cannot reach thee. I do not wish
it; for kings are sacred objects. But your friend, your accomplice, your
panderer--the coward who represents you--shall pay for your crime. I
will kill him in thy name, and, afterwards, we will bethink ourselves
of--_Louise_."

Chapter LV. The Change of Residence, the Trap-Door, and the Portrait.

Porthos, intrusted, to his great delight, with this mission, which made
him feel young again, took half an hour less than his usual time to put
on his court suit. To show that he was a man acquainted with the usages
of high society, he had begun by sending his lackey to inquire if
Monsieur de Saint-Aignan were at home, and heard, in answer, that M.
le Comte de Saint-Aignan had had the honor of accompanying the king to
Saint-Germain, as well as the whole court; but that monsieur le comte
had just that moment returned. Immediately upon this reply, Porthos made
as much haste as possible, and reached Saint-Aignan's apartments just
as the latter was having his boots taken off. The promenade had been
delightful. The king, who was in love more than ever, and of course
happier than ever, behaved in the most charming manner to every one.
Nothing could possibly equal his kindness. M. de Saint-Aignan, it may
be remembered, was a