“Now give me the cardinal up here; if he makes any noise stifle him.”
Mazarin wished to call out, but Porthos held him tight and passed him to D’Artagnan, who seized him by the neck and made him sit down by him; then in a menacing tone, he said:
“Sir! jump directly down, close to Monsieur de la Fere, or, on the honor of a gentleman, I’ll kill you!”
“Monsieur, monsieur,” cried Mazarin, “you are breaking your word to me!”
“I—did I promise you anything, my lord?”
Mazarin groaned.
“You are free,” he said, “through me; your liberty was my ransom.”
“Agreed; but the ransom of that immense treasure buried under the gallery, to which one descends on pushing a spring hidden in the wall, which causes a tub to turn, revealing a staircase—must not one speak of that a little, my lord?”
“Diavolo!” cried Mazarin, almost choked, and clasping his hands; “I am a lost and ruined man!”
But without listening to his protestations of alarm, D’Artagnan slipped him gently down into the arms of Athos, who stood immovable at the bottom of the wall.