true, though," said Porthos; "and the proof is that I paid twelve
pistoles for it."

The wonder was increased, though the doubt continued to exist.

"Is it not true, Aramis?" said Porthos, turning toward another
Musketeer.

This other Musketeer formed a perfect contrast to his interrogator, who
had just designated him by the name of Aramis. He was a stout man, of
about two- or three-and-twenty, with an open, ingenuous countenance,
a black, mild eye, and cheeks rosy and downy as an autumn peach. His
delicate mustache marked a perfectly straight line upon his upper lip;
he appeared to dread to lower his hands lest their veins should swell,
and he pinched the tips of his ears from time to time to preserve their
delicate pink transparency. Habitually he spoke little and slowly, bowed
frequently, laughed without noise, showing his teeth, which were fine
and of which, as the rest of his person, he appeared to take great care.
He answered the appeal of his friend by an affirmative nod of the head.

This affirmation appeared to dispel all doubts with regard to the
baldric. They continued to admire it, but said no more about it; and
with a rapid change of thought, the conversation passed suddenly to
another subject.

"What do you think of the story Chalais's esquire relates?" asked
another Musketeer, without addressing anyone in particular, but on the
contrary speaking to everybody.

"And what does he say?" asked Porthos, in a self-sufficient tone.

"He relates that he met at Brussels Rochefort, the AME DAMNEE of the
cardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this cursed Rochefort, thanks
to his disguise, had tricked Monsieur de Laigues, like a ninny as he
is."

"A ninny, indeed!" said Porthos; "but is the matter certain?"

"I had it from Aramis," replied the Musketeer.

"Indeed?"

"Why, you knew it, Porthos," said Aramis. "I told you of it yesterday.
Let us say no more about it."

"Say no more about it? That's YOUR opinion!" replied Porthos.

"Say no more about it! PESTE! You come to your conclusions quickly.
What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentleman, has his letters stolen
from him by means of a traitor, a brigand, a rascal-has, with the help
of this spy and thanks to this correspondence, Chalais's throat cut,
under the stupid pretext that he wanted to kill the king and marry
Monsieur to the queen! Nobody knew a word of this enigma. You unraveled
it yesterday to the great satisfaction of all; and while we