have written this man's name upon the _lettre de cachet_
which your majesty has been kind enough to give me, so that M. de Wardes
is in the Bastile for three years." And D'Artagnan, drawing the order
signed by the king from his pocket, held it towards De Wardes.

Remarking that the young man was not quite convinced, and received
the warning as an idle threat, he shrugged his shoulders and walked
leisurely towards the table, upon which lay a writing-case and a pen,
the length of which would have terrified the topographical Porthos. De
Wardes then saw that nothing could well be more seriously intended
than the threat in question, for the Bastile, even at that period, was
already held in dread. He advanced a step towards Raoul, and, in an
almost unintelligible voice, said,--"I offer my apologies in the terms
which M. d'Artagnan just now dictated, and which I am forced to make to
you."

"One moment, monsieur," said the musketeer, with the greatest
tranquillity, "you mistake the terms of the apology. I did not say, 'and
which I am forced to make'; I said, 'and which my conscience induces me
to make.' This latter expression, believe me, is better than the former;
and it will be far preferable, since it will be the most truthful
expression of your own sentiments."

"I subscribe to it," said De Wardes; "but submit, gentlemen, that a
thrust of the sword through the body, as was the custom formerly, was
far better than tyranny like this."

"No, monsieur," replied Buckingham; "for the sword-thrust, when
received, was no indication that a particular person was right or wrong;
it only showed that he was more or less skillful in the use of the
weapon."

"Monsieur!" exclaimed De Wardes.

"There, now," interrupted D'Artagnan, "you are going to say something
very rude, and I am rendering a service by stopping you in time."

"Is that all, monsieur?" inquired De Wardes.

"Absolutely everything," replied D'Artagnan; "and these gentlemen, as
well as myself, are quite satisfied with you."

"Believe me, monsieur, that your reconciliations are not successful."

"In what way?"

"Because, as we are now about to separate, I would wager that M. de
Bragelonne and myself are greater enemies than ever."

"You are deceived, monsieur, as far as I am concerned," returned Raoul;
"for I do not retain the slightest animosity in my heart against you."

This last blow overwhelmed De Wardes. He cast his eyes around him like
a man bewildered. D