But the asides of Porthos were always loud enough to be heard by everybody. His murmurs were in the diapason of ordinary roaring. Athos heard him, and uttered an exclamation which made Aramis start. The latter took Athos by the arm, and, after having asked Porthos' permission to say a word to his friend in private, "My dear Athos," he began, "you see me overwhelmed with grief."
"With grief, my dear friend?" cried the comte; "oh, what?"
"In two words. I have raised a conspiracy against the king; that conspiracy has failed, and, at this moment, I am doubtless pursued."
"You are pursued!—a conspiracy! Eh! my friend, what do you tell me?"
"A sad truth. I am entirely ruined."
"Well, but Porthos—this title of duke—what does all that mean?"
"That is the subject of my severest pain; that is the deepest of my wounds. I have, believing in an infallible success, drawn Porthos into my conspiracy. He has thrown himself into it as you know he would do, with all his strength, without knowing what he was about; and now, he is as much compromised as myself—as completely ruined as I am."
"Good God!" And Athos turned toward Porthos, who was smiling complacently.
"I must make you acquainted with the whole. Listen to me," continued Aramis; and he related the history as we know it. Athos, during the recital, several times felt the sweat break from his forehead. "It was a great idea," said he, "but a great error."
"For which I am punished, Athos."