“Oh! M. Fouquet allows his friends to be hanged, then,” said Porthos.
“And why not?” said Aramis.
“Why, it seems to me—”
“If these culprits were hanged, it was by order of the king. Now M. Fouquet, although superintendent of the finances, has not, I believe, the right of life and death.”
“That may be,” said Porthos; “but in the place of M. Fouquet—”
Aramis was afraid Porthos was about to say something awkward, so interrupted him. “Come, D’Artagnan,” said he; “this is quite enough about other people, let us talk a little about you.”
“Of me you know all that I can tell you. On the contrary let me hear a little about you, Aramis.”
“I have told you, my friend. There is nothing of Aramis left in me.”
“Nor of the Abbe d’Herblay even?”
“No, not even of him. You see a man whom Providence has taken by the hand, whom he has conducted to a position that he could never have dared even to hope for.”