“Apropos, what are the names of your friends?”
“The Count de la Fere, formerly styled Athos; Monsieur du Vallon, whom we used to call Porthos; the Chevalier d’Herblay, now the Abbé d’Herblay, whom we styled Aramis——”
The cardinal smiled.
“Younger sons,” he said, “who enlisted in the musketeers under feigned names in order not to lower their family names. Long swords but light purses. Was that it?”
“If, God willing, these swords should be devoted to the service of your eminence,” said D’Artagnan, “I shall venture to express a wish, which is, that in its turn the purse of your eminence may become light and theirs heavy—for with these three men your eminence may rouse all Europe if you like.”
“These Gascons,” said the cardinal, laughing, “almost beat the Italians in effrontery.”
“At all events,” answered D’Artagnan, with a smile almost as crafty as the cardinal’s, “they beat them when they draw their swords.”
He then withdrew, and as he passed into the courtyard he stopped near a lamp and dived eagerly into the bag of money.
“Crown pieces only—silver pieces! I suspected it. Ah! Mazarin! Mazarin! thou hast no confidence in me! so much the worse for thee, for harm may come of it!”
Meanwhile the cardinal was rubbing his hands in great satisfaction.