On that day, in fact, the four friends arrived punctually at the hour, each from his own abode or occupation.  Porthos had been trying a new horse; D’Artagnan was on guard at the Louvre; Aramis had been to visit one of his penitents in the neighborhood; and Athos, whose domicile was established in the Rue Guenegaud, found himself close at hand.  They were, therefore, somewhat surprised to meet altogether at the door of the Hermitage, Athos starting out from the Pont Neuf, Porthos by the Rue de la Roule, D’Artagnan by the Rue des Fosse Saint Germain l’Auxerrois, and Aramis by the Rue de Bethisy.

The first words exchanged between the four friends, on account of the ceremony which each of them mingled with their demonstration, were somewhat forced and even the repast began with a kind of stiffness.  Athos perceived this embarrassment, and by way of supplying an effectual remedy, called for four bottles of champagne.

At this order, given in Athos’s habitually calm manner, the face of the Gascon relaxed and Porthos’s brow grew smooth.  Aramis was astonished.  He knew that Athos not only never drank, but more, that he had a kind of repugnance to wine.  This astonishment was doubled when Aramis saw Athos fill a bumper and toss it off with all his former enthusiasm.  His companions followed his example.  In a very few minutes the four bottles were empty and this excellent specific succeeded in dissipating even the slightest cloud that might have rested on their spirits.  Now the four friends began to speak loud, scarcely waiting till one had finished before another began, and each assumed his favorite attitude on or at the table.  Soon —­ strange fact —­ Aramis undid two buttons of his doublet, seeing which, Porthos unfastened his entirely.

Battles, long journeys, blows given and received, sufficed for the first themes of conversation, which turned upon the silent struggles sustained against him who was now called the great cardinal.

“Faith,” said Aramis, laughing, “we have praised the dead enough, let us revile the living a little; I should like to say something evil of Mazarin; is it permissible?”

“Go on, go on,” replied D’Artagnan, laughing heartily; “relate your story and I will applaud it if it is a good one.”

“A great prince,” said Aramis, “with whom Mazarin sought an alliance, was invited by him to send him a list of the conditions on which he would do him the honor to negotiate with him.  The prince, who had a great repugnance to treat with such an ill-bred fellow, made out a list, against the grain, and sent it.  In this list there were three conditions which displeased Mazarin and he offered the prince ten thousand crowns to renounce them.”

“Ah, ha, ha!” laughed the three friends, “not a bad bargain; and there was no fear of being taken at his word; what did the prince do then?”

“The prince immediately sent fifty thousand francs to Mazarin, begging him never to write to him again, and offered twenty thousand francs more, on condition that he would never speak to him.  What did Mazarin do?”