These were the first words he had spoken.
“From pure zeal?” resumed Mazarin, with his artful smile; “from pure zeal and devotion then?”
“My lord has, perhaps, no faith in those words?” said D’Artagnan.
“Have you, Monsieur le Gascon?” asked Mazarin, supporting his elbows on his desk and his chin on his hands.
“I,” replied the Gascon, “I believe in devotion as a word at one’s baptism, for instance, which naturally comes before one’s proper name; every one is naturally more or less devout, certainly; but there should be at the end of one’s devotion something to gain.”
“And your friend, for instance; what does he expect to have at the end of his devotion?”
“Well, my lord, my friend has three magnificent estates: that of Vallon, at Corbeil; that of Bracieux, in the Soissonais; and that of Pierrefonds, in the Valois. Now, my lord, he would like to have one of his three estates erected into a barony.”
“Only that?” said Mazarin, his eyes twinkling with joy on seeing that he could pay for Porthos’s devotion without opening his purse; “only that? That can be managed.”
“I shall be baron!” explained Porthos, stepping forward.
“I told you so,” said D’Artagnan, checking him with his hand; “and now his eminence confirms it.”