“Not yet.” said Aramis; “we have still a word to say to these gentlemen.”
And turning to Chatillon: “Sir, be so good as not to go away without giving me an opportunity to tell you something I cannot say before the queen.”
Chatillon bowed in token of assent and they all went out, stopping at the window of a gallery on the ground floor.
“Sir,” said Aramis, “you allowed yourself just now to treat us in a most extraordinary manner. That would not be endurable in any case, and is still less so on the part of those who came to bring the queen the message of a liar.”
“Sir!” cried De Chatillon.
“What have you done with Monsieur de Bruy? Has he by any possibility gone to change his face which was too like that of Monsieur de Mazarin? There is an abundance of Italian masks at the Palais Royal, from harlequin even to pantaloon.”
“Chevalier! chevalier!” said Athos.
“Leave me alone,” said Aramis impatiently. “You know well that I don’t like to leave things half finished.”
“Conclude, then, sir,” answered De Chatillon, with as much hauteur as Aramis.
“Gentlemen,” resumed Aramis, “any one but the Comte de la Fere and myself would have had you arrested—for we have friends in Paris—but we are contented with another course. Come and converse with us for just five minutes, sword in hand, upon this deserted terrace.”