“Gone?”
“Yes.”
“Whither?”
“I don’t know; but perhaps he tells monsieur le chevalier.”
“And how? where? in what fashion?”
“In this letter, which he gave me for monsieur le chevalier.” And the valet de chambre drew a letter form his pocket.
“Give it me, then, you rascal,” said D’Artagnan, snatching it from his hand. “Oh, yes,” continued he, at the first line, “yes, I understand;” and he read:—
“Dear Friend,—An affair of the most urgent nature calls me to a distant parish of my diocese. I hoped to see you again before I set out; but I lose that hope in thinking that you are going, no doubt, to remain two or three days at Belle-Isle, with our dear Porthos. Amuse yourself as well as you can; but do not attempt to hold out against him at table. This is a counsel I might have given even to Athos, in his most brilliant and best days. Adieu, dear friend; believe that I regret greatly not having better, and for a longer time, profited by your excellent company.”
“Mordioux!” cried D’Artagnan. “I am tricked. Ah! blockhead, brute, triple fool that I am! But those laugh best who laugh last. Oh, duped, duped like a monkey, cheated with an empty nutshell!” And with a hearty blow bestowed upon the nose of the smirking valet de chambre, he made all haste out of the episcopal palace. Furet, however good a trotter, was not equal to present circumstances. D’Artagnan therefore took the post, and chose a horse which he soon caused to demonstrate, with good spurs and a light hand, that deer are not the swiftest animals in nature.