id Porthos, "you have changed your
apartments."

"Yes, that is quite true," said Saint-Aignan.

"You admit it," said Porthos, with an air of satisfaction.

"Admit it! of course I admit it. Why should I not admit it, do you
suppose?"

"You have admitted it. Very good," said Porthos, lifting up one finger.

"But how can my having moved my lodgings have done M. de Bragelonne any
harm? Have the goodness to tell me that, for I positively do not
comprehend a word of what you are saying."

Porthos stopped him, and then said with great gravity, "Monsieur, this
is the first of M. de Bragelonne's complaints against you. If he makes a
complaint, it is because he feels himself insulted."

Saint-Aignan began to beat his foot impatiently on the ground. "This
looks like a bad quarrel," he said.

"No one can possibly have a bad quarrel with the Vicomte de Bragelonne,"
returned Porthos; "but, at all events, you have nothing to add on the
subject of your changing your apartments, I suppose?"

"Nothing. And what is the next point?"

"Ah, the next! You will observe, monsieur, that the one I have already
mentioned is a most serious injury, to which you have given no answer,
or rather, have answered very indifferently. Is it possible, monsieur,
that you have changed your lodgings? M. de Bragelonne feels insulted at
your having done so, and you do not attempt to excuse yourself."

"What!" cried Saint-Aignan, who was getting annoyed at the perfect
coolness of his visitor--"what! am I to consult M. de Bragelonne whether
I am to move or not? You can hardly be serious, monsieur."

"Absolutely necessary, monsieur; but, under any circumstances, you will
admit that it is nothing in comparison with the second ground of
complaint."

"Well, what is that?"

Porthos assumed a very serious expression as he said: "How about the
trap-door, monsieur?"

Saint-Aignan turned exceedingly pale. He pushed back his chair so
abruptly, that Porthos, simple as he was, perceived that the blow had
told. "The trap-door," murmured Saint-Aignan.

"Yes, monsieur, explain that if you can," said Porthos, shaking his
head.

Saint-Aignan held down his head as he murmured: "I have been betrayed,
everything is known!"

"Everything," replied Porthos, who knew nothing.

"You see me perfectly overwhelmed," pursued Saint-Aignan, "overwhelmed
to a degree that I hardly know what I am about."

"A guilty conscience, monsieur. Your affair is a bad one, and when t