n this world, all,
men, women, and kings, must live for the present. We can only live for
the future for God."

This was the manner in which Athos and Raoul were, as usual, conversing,
and walking backward and forward in the long alley of limes in the park,
when the bell which served to announce to the comte either the hour of
dinner or the arrival of a visitor, was rung; and, without attaching any
importance to it, he turned toward the house with his son; and at the
end of the alley they found themselves in the presence of Aramis and
Porthos.

CHAPTER C.

THE LAST ADIEUX.

Raoul uttered a cry, and affectionately embraced Porthos. Aramis and
Athos embraced like old men; and this embrace itself being a question
for Aramis, he immediately said: "My friend, we have not long to remain
with you."

"Ah!" said the comte.

"Only time to tell you of my good fortune," interrupted Porthos.

"Ah!" said Raoul.

Athos looked silently at Aramis, whose somber air had already appeared
to him very little in harmony with the good news Porthos spoke of.

"What is the good fortune that has happened to you? Let us hear it,"
said Raoul, with a smile.

"The king has made me a duke," said the worthy Porthos, with an air of
mystery, in the ear of the young man, "a duke by _brevet_."

But the _asides_ of Porthos were always loud enough to be heard by
everybody. His murmurs were in the diapason of ordinary roaring. Athos
heard him, and uttered an exclamation which made Aramis start. The
latter took Athos by the arm, and, after having asked Porthos'
permission to say a word to his friend in private, "My dear Athos," he
began, "you see me overwhelmed with grief."

"With grief, my dear friend?" cried the comte; "oh, what?"

"In two words. I have raised a conspiracy against the king; that
conspiracy has failed, and, at this moment, I am doubtless pursued."

"You are pursued!--a conspiracy! Eh! my friend, what do you tell me?"

"A sad truth. I am entirely ruined."

"Well, but Porthos--this title of duke--what does all that mean?"

"That is the subject of my severest pain; that is the deepest of my
wounds. I have, believing in an infallible success, drawn Porthos into
my conspiracy. He has thrown himself into it as you know he would do,
with all his strength, without knowing what he was about; and now, he is
as much compromised as myself--as completely ruined as I am."

"Good God!" And Athos turned toward Porthos, who was