Athos took the order and read it. “It is quite true,” he said.
“Are you sorry for it?” asked D’Artagnan.
“Oh, no, on the contrary. I wish the king no harm; and the greatest evil or misfortune that any one can wish kings, is that they should commit an act of injustice. But you have had a difficult and painful task, I know. Tell me, have you not, D’Artagnan?”
“I? not at all,” said the musketeer, laughing: “the king does everything I wish him to do.”
Aramis looked fixedly at D’Artagnan, and saw that he was not speaking the truth. But Baisemeaux had eyes for nothing but D’Artagnan, so great was his admiration for a man who seemed to make the king do all he wished.
“And does the king exile Athos?” inquired Aramis.
“No, not precisely; the king did not explain himself upon that subject,” replied D’Artagnan; “but I think the comte could not well do better unless, indeed, he wishes particularly to thank the king—”
“No, indeed,” replied Athos, smiling.
“Well, then, I think,” resumed D’Artagnan, “that the comte cannot do better than to retire to his own chateau. However, my dear Athos, you have only to speak, to tell me what you want. If any particular place of residence is more agreeable to you than another, I am influential enough, perhaps, to obtain it for you.”
“No, thank you,” said Athos; “nothing can be more agreeable to me, my dear friend, than to return to my solitude beneath my noble trees on the banks of the Loire. If Heaven be the overruling physician of the evils of the mind, nature is a sovereign remedy. And so, monsieur,” continued Athos, turning again towards Baisemeaux, “I am now free, I suppose?”