"You to suspect me of wishing to assassinate the king!"

"Who spoke of such a thing?" smiled the musketeer.

"Well, let us understand one another. I do not see what any one can
do to a legitimate king as ours is, if he does not assassinate him."
D'Artagnan did not say a word. "Besides, you have your guards and your
musketeers here," said the bishop.

"True."

"You are not in M. Fouquet's house, but in your own."

"True; but in spite of that, Aramis, grant me, for pity's sake, one
single word of a true friend."

"A true friend's word is ever truth itself. If I think of touching, even
with my finger, the son of Anne of Austria, the true king of this realm
of France--if I have not the firm intention of prostrating myself before
his throne--if in every idea I may entertain to-morrow, here at Vaux,
will not be the most glorious day my king ever enjoyed--may Heaven's
lightning blast me where I stand!" Aramis had pronounced these words
with his face turned towards the alcove of his own bedroom, where
D'Artagnan, seated with his back towards the alcove, could not suspect
that any one was lying concealed. The earnestness of his words, the
studied slowness with which he pronounced them, the solemnity of his
oath, gave the musketeer the most complete satisfaction. He took hold
of both Aramis's hands, and shook them cordially. Aramis had endured
reproaches without turning pale, and had blushed as he listened to words
of praise. D'Artagnan, deceived, did him honor; but D'Artagnan, trustful
and reliant, made him feel ashamed. "Are you going away?" he said, as he
embraced him, in order to conceal the flush on his face.

"Yes. Duty summons me. I have to get the watch-word. It seems I am to be
lodged in the king's ante-room. Where does Porthos sleep?"

"Take him away with you, if you like, for he rumbles through his sleepy
nose like a park of artillery."

"Ah! he does not stay with you, then?" said D'Artagnan.

"Not the least in the world. He has a chamber to himself, but I don't
know where."

"Very good!" said the musketeer; from whom this separation of the two
associates removed his last suspicion, and he touched Porthos lightly
on the shoulder; the latter replied by a loud yawn. "Come," said
D'Artagnan.

"What, D'Artagnan, my dear fellow, is that you? What a lucky chance! Oh,
yes--true; I have forgotten; I am at the _fete_ at Vaux."

"Yes; and your beautiful dress, too."

"Yes, it was very attentive on the part of M