eive others. In one word, I am
weary of Paris wherever and whenever you are not with me; and as I
cannot have you with me always, I wish to return to Blois."

"How wrong you are, Athos; how you gainsay your origin and the destiny
of your noble nature. Men of your stamp are created to continue, to the
very last moment, in full possession of their great faculties. Look at
my sword, a Spanish blade, the one I wore at La Rochelle; it served me
for thirty years without fail; one day in the winter it fell upon the
marble floor on the Louvre and was broken. I had a hunting-knife made of
it which will last a hundred years yet. You, Athos, with your loyalty,
your frankness, your cool courage, and your sound information, are
the very man kings need to warn and direct them. Remain here; Monsieur
Fouquet will not last as long as my Spanish blade."

"Is it possible," said Athos, smiling, "that my friend, D'Artagnan, who,
after having raised me to the skies, making me an object of worship,
casts me down from the top of Olympus, and hurls me to the ground?
I have more exalted ambition, D'Artagnan. To be a minister--to be a
slave,--never! Am I not still greater? I am nothing. I remember having
heard you occasionally call me 'the great Athos'; I defy you, therefore,
if I were minister, to continue to bestow that title upon me. No, no; I
do not yield myself in this manner."

"We will not speak of it any more, then; renounce everything, even the
brotherly feeling which unites us."

"It is almost cruel what you say."

D'Artagnan pressed Athos's hand warmly. "No, no; renounce everything
without fear. Raoul can get on without you. I am at Paris."

"In that case I shall return to Blois. We will take leave of each other
to-night; to-morrow at daybreak I shall be on my horse again."

"You cannot return to your hotel alone; why did you not bring Grimaud
with you?"

"Grimaud takes his rest now; he goes to bed early, for my poor old
servant gets easily fatigued. He came from Blois with me, and I
compelled him to remain within doors; for if, in retracing the forty
leagues which separate us from Blois, he needed to draw breath even, he
would die without a murmur. But I don't want to lose Grimaud."

"You shall have one of my musketeers to carry a torch for you. _Hola!_
some one there," called out D'Artagnan, leaning over the gilded
balustrade. The heads of seven or eight musketeers appeared. "I wish
some gentleman, who is so disposed, to es