“Ah!” said Porthos, again breathing freely.
“He gave us a thousand messages to you.”
“And where is M. le comte going?” asked Grimaud, already recompensed by a smile from his master.
“We were going home to Blois.”
“How can that be?”
“At once?” said Raoul.
“Yes, right forward.”
“Without any luggage?”
“Oh! Raoul would have been instructed to forward me mine, or to bring it with him on his return, if he returns.”
“If nothing detains him longer in Paris,” said D’Artagnan, with a glance firm and cutting as steel, and as painful (for it reopened the poor young fellow’s wounds), “he will do well to follow you, Athos.”