He walked to the window and looked into the court. He saw the deputation from the Parisians enter it; they were coming to assign the definitive place for the conference and to make their bow to the queen. A very imposing escort awaited them without the gates.
Athos was looking on attentively, when some one touched him softly on the shoulder.
“Ah! Monsieur de Comminges,” he said.
“Yes, count, and charged with a commission for which I beg of you to accept my excuses.”
“What is it?”
“Be so good as to give me up your sword, count.”
Athos smiled and opened the window.
“Aramis!” he cried.
A gentleman turned around. Athos fancied he had seen him among the crowd. It was Aramis. He bowed with great friendship to the count.
“Aramis,” cried Athos, “I am arrested.”