“Yes; but this is a kindness on the part of Aramis. I have not my stud here, and Aramis has placed his stables at my disposal.”
“Good horses for bishop’s horses, mordioux!” said D’Artagnan. “It is true, Aramis is a bishop of a peculiar kind.”
“He is a holy man!” replied Porthos, in a tone almost nasal, and with his eyes raised towards heaven.
“Then he is much changed,” said D’Artagnan; “you and I have known him passably profane.”
“Grace has touched him,” said Porthos.
“Bravo,” said D’Artagnan, “that redoubles my desire to see my dear old friend.” And he spurred his horse, which sprang off into a more rapid pace.
“Peste!” said Porthos, “if we go on at this rate, we shall only take one hour instead of two.”
“To go how far, do you say, Porthos?”
“Four leagues and a half.”
“That will be a good pace.”