“Ah, if you laugh, if you doubt me,” replied Aramis, “you shall know nothing.”
“We believe like Mohammedans, and are as mute as tombstones,” said Athos.
“I will continue, then,” resumed Aramis. “This niece comes sometimes to see her uncle; and by chance was there yesterday at the same time that I was, and it was my duty to offer to conduct her to her carriage.”
“Ah! She has a carriage, then, this niece of the doctor?” interrupted Porthos, one of whose faults was a great looseness of tongue. “A nice acquaintance, my friend!”
“Porthos,” replied Aramis, “I have had the occasion to observe to you more than once that you are very indiscreet; and that is injurious to you among the women.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” cried d’Artagnan, who began to get a glimpse of the result of the adventure, “the thing is serious. Let us try not to jest, if we can. Go on Aramis, go on.”
“All at once, a tall, dark gentleman—just like yours, d’Artagnan.”
“The same, perhaps,” said he.
“Possibly,” continued Aramis, “came toward me, accompanied by five or six men who followed about ten paces behind him; and in the politest tone, ‘ M. Duke,’ said he to me, ‘and you Madame,’ continued he, addressing the lady on my arm—”
“The doctor’s niece?”
“Hold your tongue, Porthos,” said Athos; “you are insupportable.”