But there the confidence of d’Artagnan stopped.  He only added that on his return from Great Britain he had brought back four magnificent horses—­one for himself, and one for each of his companions; then he informed Porthos that the one intended for him was already installed in the stable of the tavern.

At this moment Planchet entered, to inform his master that the horses were sufficiently refreshed and that it would be possible to sleep at Clermont.

As d’Artagnan was tolerably reassured with regard to Porthos, and as he was anxious to obtain news of his two other friends, he held out his hand to the wounded man, and told him he was about to resume his route in order to continue his researches.  For the rest, as he reckoned upon returning by the same route in seven or eight days, if Porthos were still at the Great St. Martin, he would call for him on his way.

Porthos replied that in all probability his sprain would not permit him to depart yet awhile.  Besides, it was necessary he should stay at Chantilly to wait for the answer from his duchess.

D’Artagnan wished that answer might be prompt and favorable; and having again recommended Porthos to the care of Mousqueton, and paid his bill to the host, he resumed his route with Planchet, already relieved of one of his led horses.

26 Aramis and his thesis

D’Artagnan had said nothing to Porthos of his wound or of his procurator’s wife.  Our Bearnais was a prudent lad, however young he might be.  Consequently he had appeared to believe all that the vainglorious Musketeer had told him, convinced that no friendship will hold out against a surprised secret.  Besides, we feel always a sort of mental superiority over those whose lives we know better than they suppose.  In his projects of intrigue for the future, and determined as he was to make his three friends the instruments of his fortune, d’Artagnan was not sorry at getting into his grasp beforehand the invisible strings by which he reckoned upon moving them.

And yet, as he journeyed along, a profound sadness weighed upon his heart.  He thought of that young and pretty Mme. Bonacieux who was to have paid him the price of his devotedness; but let us hasten to say that this sadness possessed the young man less from the regret of the happiness he had missed, than from the fear he entertained that some serious misfortune had befallen the poor woman.  For himself, he had no doubt she was a victim of the cardinal’s vengeance; and, and as was well known, the vengeance of his Eminence was terrible.  How he had found grace in the eyes of the minister, he did not know; but without doubt M. de Cavois would have revealed this to him if the captain of the Guards had found him at home.