sir."

"Unruly," Comminges smiled; "you wish to terrify me, I suppose. When
he came here, Monsieur D'Artagnan provoked and braved the soldiers and
inferior officers, in order, I suppose, to have his sword back. That
mood lasted some time; but now he's as gentle as a lamb and sings Gascon
songs, which make one die of laughing."

"And Du Vallon?" asked Athos.

"Ah, he's quite another sort of person--a formidable gentleman, indeed.
The first day he broke all the doors in with a single push of his
shoulder; and I expected to see him leave Rueil in the same way as
Samson left Gaza. But his temper cooled down, like his friend's; he not
only gets used to his captivity, but jokes about it."

"So much the better," said Athos.

"Do you think anything else was to be expected of them?" asked
Comminges, who, putting together what Mazarin had said of his prisoners
and what the Comte de la Fere had said, began to feel a degree of
uneasiness.

Athos, on the other hand, reflected that this recent gentleness of
his friends most certainly arose from some plan formed by D'Artagnan.
Unwilling to injure them by praising them too highly, he replied: "They?
They are two hotheads--the one a Gascon, the other from Picardy; both
are easily excited, but they quiet down immediately. You have had a
proof of that in what you have just related to me."

This, too, was the opinion of Comminges, who withdrew somewhat
reassured. Athos remained alone in the vast chamber, where, according to
the cardinal's directions, he was treated with all the courtesy due to
a nobleman. He awaited Mazarin's promised visit to get some light on his
present situation.

83. Strength and Sagacity.

Now let us pass the orangery to the hunting lodge. At the extremity of
the courtyard, where, close to a portico formed of Ionic columns, were
the dog kennels, rose an oblong building, the pavilion of the orangery,
a half circle, inclosing the court of honor. It was in this pavilion, on
the ground floor, that D'Artagnan and Porthos were confined, suffering
interminable hours of imprisonment in a manner suitable to each
different temperament.

D'Artagnan was pacing to and fro like a caged tiger; with dilated eyes,
growling as he paced along by the bars of a window looking upon the yard
of servant's offices.

Porthos was ruminating over an excellent dinner he had just demolished.

The one seemed to be deprived of reason, yet he was meditating. The
other seem