“How?” replied d’Artagnan, “you
care little if she kills Buckingham or causes him
to be killed? But the duke is our friend.”
“The duke is English; the duke fights against
us. Let her do what she likes with the duke;
I care no more about him than an empty bottle.”
And Athos threw fifteen paces from him an empty bottle
from which he had poured the last drop into his glass.
“A moment,” said d’Artagnan.
“I will not abandon Buckingham thus.
He gave us some very fine horses.”
“And moreover, very handsome saddles,”
said Porthos, who at the moment wore on his cloak
the lace of his own.
“Besides,” said Aramis, “God desires
the conversion and not the death of a sinner.”
“Amen!” said Athos, “and we will
return to that subject later, if such be your pleasure;
but what for the moment engaged my attention most
earnestly, and I am sure you will understand me, d’Artagnan,
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:
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.”
