“And Raoul—what shall you do with him?”
“I leave him with you, my friend. War has broken out in Flanders. You shall take him with you there. I am afraid that remaining at Blois would be dangerous to his youthful mind. Take him and teach him to be as brave and loyal as you are yourself.”
“Then,” replied D’Artagnan, “though I shall not have you, Athos, at all events I shall have that dear fair-haired head by me; and though he’s but a boy, yet, since your soul lives again in him, dear Athos, I shall always fancy that you are near me, sustaining and encouraging me.”
The four friends embraced with tears in their eyes.
Then they departed, without knowing whether they would ever see each other again.
D’Artagnan returned to the Rue Tiquetonne with Porthos, still possessed by the wish to find out who the man was that he had killed. On arriving at the Hotel de la Chevrette they found the baron’s equipage all ready and Mousqueton on his saddle.
“Come, D’Artagnan,” said Porthos, “bid adieu to your sword and go with me to Pierrefonds, to Bracieux, or to Du Vallon. We will grow old together and talk of our companions.”
“No!” replied D’Artagnan, “deuce take it, the campaign is going to begin; I wish to be there, I expect to get something by it.”
“What do you expect to get?”
“Why, I expect to be made Marechal of France!”