herself. As to the second reproach, I have heard it said that she does not love the English, but an Englishman.”
“Well, and by my faith,” said Athos, “it must be acknowledged that this Englishman is worthy of being loved. I never saw a man with a nobler air than his.”
“Without reckoning that he dresses as nobody else can,” said Porthos. “I was at the Louvre on the day when he scattered his pearls; and, pardieu , I picked up two that I sold for ten pistoles each. Do you know him, Aramis?”
“As well as you do, gentlemen; for I was among those who seized him in the garden at Amiens, into which M. Putange, the queen’s equerry, introduced me. I was at school at the time, and the adventure appeared to me to be cruel for the king.”
“Which would not prevent me,” said d’Artagnan, “if I knew where the Duke of Buckingham was, from taking him by the hand and conducting him to the queen, were it only to enrage the cardinal, and if we could find means to play him a sharp turn, I vow that I would voluntarily risk my head in doing it.”
“And did the mercer,” rejoined Athos, “tell you, d’Artagnan, that the queen thought that Buckingham had been brought over by a forged letter?”
“She is afraid so.”
“Wait a minute, then,” said Aramis.
“What for?” demanded Porthos.
“Go on, while I endeavor to recall circumstances.”