in has not
escaped you. Return, therefore, to M. de Bragelonne; thank him--as I
have indeed reason to thank him--for having chosen as an intermediary a
man of your high merit. Believe me that I shall, on my side, preserve an
eternal gratitude for the man who has so ingeniously, so cleverly
arranged the misunderstanding between us. And since ill-luck would have
it that the secret should be known to four instead of to three, why,
this secret, which might make the most ambitious man's fortune, I am
delighted to share with you, monsieur; from the bottom of my heart I am
delighted at it. From this very moment you can make use of me as you
please; I place myself entirely at your mercy. What can I possibly do
for you? What can I solicit, nay, require even? You have only to speak,
monsieur, only to speak."

And, according to the familiarly friendly fashion of that period,
Saint-Aignan threw his arms round Porthos and clasped him tenderly in
his embrace. Porthos allowed him to do this with the most perfect
indifference. "Speak," resumed Saint-Aignan, "what do you require?"

"Monsieur," said Porthos. "I have a horse below, be good enough to mount
him; he is a very good one, and will play you no tricks."

"Mount on horseback! what for?" inquired Saint-Aignan, with no little
curiosity.

"To accompany me where M. de Bragelonne is awaiting us."

"Ah! he wishes to speak to me, I suppose? I can well believe that; he
wishes to have the details, very likely; alas! it is a very delicate
matter; but at the present moment I cannot, for the king is waiting for
me."

"The king must wait, then," said Porthos.

"What do you say? the king must wait!" interrupted the finished
courtier, with a smile of utter amazement, for he could not understand
that the king could under any circumstances be supposed to have to wait.

"It is merely the affair of a very short hour," returned Porthos.

"But where is M. de Bragelonne waiting for me?"

"At the Minimes, at Vincennes."

"Ah, indeed! but are we going to laugh over the affair when we get
there?"

"I don't think it likely," said Porthos, as his face assumed a stern
hardness of expression.

"But the Minimes is a rendezvous where duels take place, and what can I
have to do at the Minimes?"

Porthos slowly drew his sword, and said: "That is the length of my
friend's sword."

"Why, the man is mad!" cried Saint-Aignan.

The color mounted to Porthos' face, as he replied: "If I had not the