hich I send
you now the key.

"Embrace Porthos from Aramis and myself. Adieu, perhaps farewell."

At the hour agreed upon Aramis arrived; he was dressed as an officer and
had the old sword at his side which he had drawn so often and which he
was more than ever ready to draw.

"By-the-bye," he said, "I think that we are decidedly wrong to depart
thus, without leaving a line for Porthos and D'Artagnan."

"The thing is done, dear friend," said Athos; "I foresaw that and have
embraced them both from you and myself."

"You are a wonderful man, my dear count," said Aramis; "you think of
everything."

"Well, have you made up your mind to this journey?"

"Quite; and now that I reflect about it, I am glad to leave Paris at
this moment."

"And so am I," replied Athos; "my only regret is not having seen
D'Artagnan; but the rascal is so cunning, he might have guessed our
project."

When supper was over Blaisois entered. "Sir," said he, "here is Monsieur
d'Artagnan's answer."

"But I did not tell you there would be an answer, stupid!" said Athos.

"And I set off without waiting for one, but he called me back and gave
me this;" and he presented a little leather bag, plump and giving out a
golden jingle.

Athos opened it and began by drawing forth a little note, written in
these terms:

"My dear Count,--When one travels, and especially for three months, one
never has a superfluity of money. Now, recalling former times of mutual
distress, I send you half my purse; it is money to obtain which I made
Mazarin sweat. Don't make a bad use of it, I entreat you.

"As to what you say about not seeing you again, I believe not a word of
it; with such a heart as yours--and such a sword--one passes through the
valley of the shadow of death a dozen times, unscathed and unalarmed. Au
revoir, not farewell.

"It is unnecessary to say that from the day I saw Raoul I loved him;
nevertheless, believe that I heartily pray that I may not become to him
a father, however much I might be proud of such a son.

"Your

"D'Artagnan.

"P.S.--Be it well understood that the fifty louis which I send are
equally for Aramis as for you--for you as Aramis."

Athos smiled, and his fine eye was dimmed by a tear. D'Artagnan, who had
loved him so tenderly, loved him still, although a Mazarinist.

"There are the fifty louis, i'faith," said Aramis, emptying the purse on
the table, all bearing the effigy of Louis XIII. "Well, what shall you
d