“Then, if it is so important as all that, I prefer not to know it,” said D’Artagnan, making a show of departure.
“Come in, M. Lebrun, come in,” said Aramis, opening a side-door with his right hand, and holding back D’Artagnan with his left.
“I’faith, I too, am quite in the dark,” quoth Percerin.
Aramis took an “opportunity,” as is said in theatrical matters.
“My dear M. de Percerin,” Aramis continued, “you are making five dresses for the king, are you not? One in brocade; one in hunting-cloth; one in velvet; one in satin; and one in Florentine stuffs.”
“Yes; but how—do you know all that, monseigneur?” said Percerin, astounded.
“It is all very simple, my dear monsieur; there will be a hunt, a banquet, concert, promenade and reception; these five kinds of dress are required by etiquette.”
“You know everything, monseigneur!”
“And a thing or two in addition,” muttered D’Artagnan.
“But,” cried the tailor, in triumph, “what you do not know, monseigneur—prince of the church though you are—what nobody will know—what only the king, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, and myself do know, is the color of the materials and nature of the ornaments, and the cut, the ensemble, the finish of it all!”