“From Friquet? I know that name——”
“A son of Monsieur de Broussel’s servant, and a lad that, I promise you, in a revolt will not give away his share to the dogs.”
“Is he not a singing boy at Notre Dame?” asked D’Artagnan.
“Yes, that is the very boy; he’s patronized by Bazin.”
“Ah, yes, I know.”
“Of what importance is this little reptile to you?” asked Porthos.
“Gad!” replied D’Artagnan; “he has already given me good information and he may do the same again.”
Whilst all this was going on, Athos and Aramis were entering Paris by the Faubourg St. Antoine. They had taken some refreshment on the road and hastened on, that they might not fail at the appointed place. Bazin was their only attendant, for Grimaud had stayed behind to take care of Mousqueton. As they were passing onward, Athos proposed that they should lay aside their arms and military costume, and assume a dress more suited to the city.
“Oh, no, dear count!” cried Aramis, “is it not a warlike encounter that we are going to?”
“What do you mean, Aramis?”