se of you."

"You have your liberty?" repeated Mazarin, in terror.

"Certainly; and on the other hand, my lord, you have lost it, and now,
in accordance with the law of war, sir, you must buy it back again."

Mazarin felt a shiver run through him--a chill even to his heart's core.
His piercing look was fixed in vain on the satirical face of the Gascon
and the unchanging countenance of Porthos. Both were in shadow and the
Sybil of Cuma herself could not have read them.

"To purchase back my liberty?" said the cardinal.

"Yes, my lord."

"And how much will that cost me, Monsieur d'Artagnan?"

"Zounds, my lord, I don't know yet. We must ask the Comte de la Fere the
question. Will your eminence deign to open the door which leads to the
count's room, and in ten minutes all will be settled."

Mazarin started.

"My lord," said D'Artagnan, "your eminence sees that we wish to act with
all formality and due respect; but I must warn you that we have no time
to lose; open the door then, my lord, and be so good as to remember,
once for all, that on the slightest attempt to escape or the faintest
cry for help, our position being very critical indeed, you must not be
angry with us if we go to extremities."

"Be assured," answered Mazarin, "that I shall attempt nothing; I give
you my word of honor."

D'Artagnan made a sign to Porthos to redouble his watchfulness; then
turning to Mazarin:

"Now, my lord, let us enter, if you please."

86. Conferences.

Mazarin turned the lock of a double door, on the threshold of which they
found Athos ready to receive his illustrious guests according to the
notice Comminges had given him.

On perceiving Mazarin he bowed.

"Your eminence," he said, "might have dispensed with your attendants;
the honor bestowed on me is too great for me to be unmindful of it."

"And so, my dear count," said D'Artagnan, "his eminence didn't actually
insist on our attending him; it is Du Vallon and I who have insisted,
and even in a manner somewhat impolite, perhaps, so great was our
longing to see you."

At that voice, that mocking tone, and that familiar gesture, accenting
voice and tone, Athos made a bound of surprise.

"D'Artagnan! Porthos!" he exclaimed.

"My very self, dear friend."

"Me, also!" repeated Porthos.

"What means this?" asked the count.

"It means," replied Mazarin, trying to smile and biting his lips in
the attempt, "that our parts are changed, and that instead of