“M. le Comte de la Fere would advise you just as I do.”
“Pardieu! I know he would,” said D’Artagnan thoughtfully. “You are right, I shall not escape. But if they cast me into the Bastile?”
“We will get you out again,” said Raoul, with a quiet, calm air.
“Mordioux! You said that after a brave fashion, Raoul,” said D’Artagnan, seizing his hand, “that savors of Athos, distinctly. Well, I will go, then. Do not forget my last word.”
“Except a fifth,” said Raoul.
“Yes, you are a fine boy! and I wish you to add one thing to that last word.”
“Speak, chevalier!”
“It is that if you cannot get me out of the Bastile, and I remain there—oh! that will be so, and I shall be a detestable prisoner; I, who have been a passable man,—in that case, I give three-fifths to you, and the fourth to your father.”
“Chevalier!”
“Mordioux! If you will have some masses said for me, you are welcome.”