“He looked to me—but ’tis impossible.”
At this instant the sergeant, who had been for his orders, returned, and pointing to the three gentlemen in cloaks, said:
“The passports are in order; let these three gentlemen pass.”
The three gentlemen bowed and hastened to take advantage of this permission.
Aramis looked after them, and as the last of them passed close to him he pressed the hand of Athos.
“What is the matter with you, my friend?” asked the latter.
“I have—doubtless I am dreaming; tell me, sir,” he said to the sergeant, “do you know those three gentlemen who are just gone out?”
“Only by their passports; they are three Frondists, who are gone to rejoin the Duc de Longueville.”
“’Tis strange,” said Aramis, almost involuntarily; “I fancied that I recognized Mazarin himself.”
The sergeant burst into a fit of laughter.