“Then to yours, Monsieur⁠—what is your name?”

“Boisrenard.”

“Monsieur Boisrenard.”

“To yours, my gentlemen! What is your name, in your turn, if you please?”

“D’Artagnan.”

“To yours, Monsieur.”

“And above all others,” cried d’Artagnan, as if carried away by his enthusiasm, “to that of the king and the cardinal.”

The leader of the posse would perhaps have doubted the sincerity of d’Artagnan if the wine had been bad; but the wine was good, and he was convinced.