“But Monsieur de Gondy is to be made a cardinal; they are soliciting the hat for him.”

“And are there no cardinals that can fight?  Come now, recall the four cardinals that at the head of armies have equalled Monsieur de Guebriant and Monsieur de Gassion.”

“But a humpbacked general!

“Under the cuirass the hump will not be seen.  Besides, remember that Alexander was lame and Hannibal had but one eye.”

“Do you see any great advantage in adhering to this party?” asked D’Artagnan.

“I foresee in it the aid of powerful princes.”

“With the enmity of the government.”

“Counteracted by parliament and insurrections.”

“That may be done if they can separate the king from his mother.”

“That may be done,” said Aramis.

“Never!” cried D’Artagnan.  “You, Aramis, know Anne of Austria better than I do.  Do you think she will ever forget that her son is her safeguard, her shield, the pledge for her dignity, for her fortune and her life?  Should she forsake Mazarin she must join her son and go over to the princes’ side; but you know better than I do that there are certain reasons why she can never abandon Mazarin.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Aramis, thoughtfully; “therefore I shall not pledge myself.”

“To them or to us, do you mean, Aramis?”

“To no one.  I am a priest,” resumed Aramis.  “What have I to do with politics?  I am not obliged to read any breviary.  I have a jolly little circle of witty abbes and pretty women; everything goes on smoothly, so certainly, dear friend, I shall not meddle in politics.”

“Well, listen, my dear Aramis,” said D’Artagnan; “your philosophy convinces me, on my honor.  I don’t know what devil of an insect stung me and made me ambitious.  I have a post by which I live; at the death of Monsieur de Treville, who is old, I may be a captain, which is a very snug berth for a once penniless Gascon.  Instead of running after adventures I shall accept an invitation from Porthos; I shall go and shoot on his estate.  You know he has estates —­ Porthos?”

“I should think so, indeed.  Ten leagues of wood, of marsh land and valleys; he is lord of the hill and the plain and is now carrying on a suit for his feudal rights against the Bishop of Noyon!”

“Good,” said D’Artagnan to himself.  “That’s what I wanted to know.  Porthos is in Picardy.”

Then aloud: 

“And he has taken his ancient name of Vallon?”

“To which he adds that of Bracieux, an estate which has been a barony, by my troth.”

“So that Porthos will be a baron.”

“I don’t doubt it.  The ‘Baroness Porthos’ will sound particularly charming.”

And the two friends began to laugh.

“So,” D’Artagnan resumed, “you will not become a partisan of Mazarin’s?”

“Nor you of the Prince de Conde?”

“No, let us belong to no party, but remain friends; let us be neither Cardinalists nor Frondists.”