“Is one friend forbidden to visit another, or a musketeer of my company to fraternize with a guard of des Essart’s company?”
“Yes, when the house where he fraternizes is suspected.”
“That house is suspected, Tréville,” said the king; “perhaps you did not know it?”
“Indeed, sire, I did not. The house may be suspected; but I deny that it is so in the part of it inhabited by M. d’Artagnan, for I can affirm, sire, if I can believe what he says, that there does not exist a more devoted servant of Your Majesty, or a more profound admirer of Monsieur the Cardinal.”
“Was it not this d’Artagnan who wounded Jussac one day, in that unfortunate encounter which took place near the Convent of the Carmes-Déchaussés?” asked the king, looking at the cardinal, who colored with vexation.
“And the next day, Bernajoux. Yes, sire, yes, it is the same; and Your Majesty has a good memory.”
“Come, how shall we decide?” said the king.
“That concerns Your Majesty more than me,” said the cardinal. “I should affirm the culpability.”
“And I deny it,” said Tréville. “But His Majesty has judges, and these judges will decide.”
“That is best,” said the king. “Send the case before the judges; it is their business to judge, and they shall judge.”
“Only,” replied Tréville, “it is a sad thing that in the unfortunate times in which we live, the purest life, the most incontestable virtue,