D'Artagnan was introduced into the salon, and had not long to remain in expectation; a well-remembered step shook the floor of the adjoining room; a door opened, or rather flew open, and Porthos appeared, and threw himself into his friend's arms with a sort of embarrassment which did not ill become him. "You here?" he exclaimed.
"And you?" replied D'Artagnan. "Ah, you sly fellow!"
"Yes," said Porthos, with a somewhat embarrassed smile; "yes, you see I am staying in M. Fouquet's house, at which you are not a little surprised, I suppose?"
"Not at all; why should you not be one of M. Fouquet's friends? M. Fouquet has a very large number, particularly among clever men."
Porthos had the modesty not to take the compliment to himself. "Besides," he added, "you saw me at Belle-Isle."
"A greater reason for my believing you to be one of M. Fouquet's friends."
"The fact is, I am acquainted with him," said Porthos, with a certain embarrassment of manner.
"Ah, friend Porthos," said D'Artagnan, "how treacherously you have behaved toward me."
"In what way?" exclaimed Porthos.
"What! you complete so admirable a work as the fortifications of Belle-Isle, and you did not tell me of it!" Porthos colored. "Nay, more than that," continued D'Artagnan, "you saw me out yonder, you know I am in the king's service, and yet you could not guess that the king, jealously desirous of learning the name of the man whose abilities have wrought a work of which he has heard the most wonderful accounts—you could not guess, I say, that the king sent me to learn who this man was?"