“What are you going to do?”
“I will go and wake Porthos, and remain in his company till you have finished the conference.”
Aramis did not stir, his brow remained unbent, he betrayed himself by no gesture or word; “Go,” said he, as D’Artagnan advanced to the door. “A propos, do you know where Porthos sleeps?”
“No, but I will inquire.”
“Take the corridor, and open the second door on the left.”
“Thank you! au revoir.” And D’Artagnan departed in the direction pointed out by Aramis.
Ten minutes had not passed away when he came back. He found Aramis seated between the superior of the Dominicans and the principal of the college of the Jesuits, exactly in the same situation as he had found him formerly in the auberge at Crevecoeur. This company did not at all terrify the musketeer.
“What is it?” said Aramis, quietly. “You have apparently something to say to me, my friend.”
“It is,” replied D’Artagnan, fixing his eyes upon Aramis, “it is that Porthos is not in his apartment.”
“Indeed,” said Aramis, calmly; “are you sure?”