“Yes, you are right, D’Artagnan, a fatality that will separate and ruin us! So, my dear Aramis, say no more about it and let us prepare to submit to destiny.”
“Zounds! on the contrary, let us speak about it; for it was agreed among us, once for all, that we should always hold together, though engaged on opposing sides.”
“Yes,” added Athos, “I now ask you, D’Artagnan, what side you are on? Ah! behold for what end the wretched Mazarin has made use of you. Do you know in what crime you are to-day engaged? In the capture of a king, his degradation and his murder.”
“Oh! oh!” cried Porthos, “do you think so?”
“You are exaggerating, Athos; we are not so far gone as that,” replied the lieutenant.
“Good heavens! we are on the very eve of it. I say, why is the king taken prisoner? Those who wish to respect him as a master would not buy him as a slave. Do you think it is to replace him on the throne that Cromwell has paid for him two hundred thousand pounds sterling? They will kill him, you may be sure of it.”
“I don’t maintain the contrary,” said D’Artagnan. “But what’s that to us? I am here because I am a soldier and have to obey orders—I have taken an oath to obey, and I do obey; but you who have taken no such oath, why are you here and what cause do you represent?”
“That most sacred in the world,” said Athos; “the cause of misfortune, of religion, royalty. A friend, a wife, a daughter, have done us the honor to call us to their aid. We have served them to the best of our poor means, and God will recompense the will, forgive the want of power. You may see matters differently, D’Artagnan, and think otherwise. I will not attempt to argue with you, but I blame you.”
“Heyday!” cried D’Artagnan, “what matters it to me, after all, if Cromwell, who’s an Englishman, revolts against his king, who is a Scotchman? I am myself a Frenchman. I have nothing to do with these things—why hold me responsible?”
“Yes,” said Porthos.