“Silence, with respect to me, silence, with respect to my friends; silence about the queen, above all, or you will ruin everybody without saving yourself! Come, come, gentlemen, remove the fellow.” And D’Artagnan pushed the half-stupefied mercer among the Guards, saying to him, “You are a shabby old fellow, my dear. You come to demand money of me—of a Musketeer! To prison with him! Gentlemen, once more, take him to prison, and keep him under key as long as possible; that will give me time to pay him.”
The officers were full of thanks, and took away their prey. As they were going down D’Artagnan laid his hand on the shoulder of their leader.
“May I not drink to your health, and you to mine?” said D’Artagnan, filling two glasses with the Beaugency wine which he had obtained from the liberality of M. Bonacieux.
“That will do me great honor,” said the leader of the posse, “and I accept thankfully.”
“Then to yours, monsieur—what is your name?”
“Boisrenard.”
“Monsieur Boisrenard.”
“To yours, my gentlemen! What is your name, in your turn, if you please?”
“D’Artagnan.”
“To yours, monsieur.”