“Forgive me, but I have not been paying attention to what has passed; will you oblige me by explaining.
“There is no doubt it was necessary that Buckingham the father should come to Paris in order that his majesty, King Louis XIII., should perceive that his wife was one of the most beautiful women of the French court; and it seems necessary, at the present time, that Buckingham the son should consecrate, by the devotion of his worship, the beauty of a princess who has French blood in her veins. The fact of having inspired a passion on the other side of the Channel will henceforth confer a title to beauty on this.”
“Sir,” replied De Bragelonne, “I do not like to hear such matters treated so lightly. Gentlemen like ourselves should be careful guardians of the honor of our queens and our princesses. If we jest at them, what will our servants do?”
“How am I to understand that?” said De Wardes, whose ears tingled at the remark.
“In any way you choose, monsieur,” replied De Bragelonne, coldly.
“Bragelonne, Bragelonne,” murmured De Guiche.
“M. de Wardes,” exclaimed Manicamp, noticing that the young man had spurred his horse close to the side of Raoul.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said De Guiche, “do not set such an example in public, in the street too. De Wardes, you are wrong.”
“Wrong; in what way, may I ask?”
“You are wrong, monsieur, because you are always speaking ill of someone or something,” replied Raoul with undisturbed composure.