Athos, who still suffered grievously from his wound, though it had been dressed anew by M. de Tréville’s surgeon, was seated on a post and waiting for his adversary with hat in hand, his feather even touching the ground.

“Monsieur,” said Athos, “I have engaged two of my friends as seconds; but these two friends are not yet come, at which I am astonished, as it is not at all their custom.”

“I have no seconds on my part, Monsieur,” said d’Artagnan; “for having only arrived yesterday in Paris, I as yet know no one but M. de Tréville, to whom I was recommended by my father, who has the honor to be, in some degree, one of his friends.”

Athos reflected for an instant. “You know no one but M. de Tréville?” he asked.