“The Duc d’Almeda?” said D’Artagnan, reflecting in vain.
“Here!” cried an old man, white as snow, sitting bent in his carriage, which he caused to be thrown open to make room for the musketeer.
“Aramis!” cried D’Artagnan, struck with profound amazement. And he felt, inert as it was, the thin arm of the old nobleman hanging round his neck.
Colbert, after having observed them in silence for a few moments, urged his horse forward, and left the two old friends together.
“And so,” said the musketeer, taking Aramis’s arm, “you, the exile, the rebel, are again in France?”
“Ah! and I shall dine with you at the king’s table,” said Aramis, smiling. “Yes, will you not ask yourself what is the use of fidelity in this world? Stop! let us allow poor La Valliere’s carriage to pass. Look, how uneasy she is! How her eyes, dim with tears, follow the king, who is riding on horseback yonder!”
“With whom?”
“With Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, now Madame de Montespan,” replied Aramis.
“She is jealous. Is she then deserted?”
“Not quite yet, but it will not be long before she is.” [9]