“Well, then, off to the nearest goldsmith’s, and sell that diamond for the highest price you can get from him. However much of a Jew he may be, he will give you at least eight hundred pistoles. Pistoles have no name, young man, and that ring has a terrible one, which may betray him who wears it.”
“Sell this ring, a ring which comes from my sovereign? Never!” said d’Artagnan.
“Then, at least turn the gem inside, you silly fellow; for everybody must be aware that a cadet from Gascony does not find such stones in his mother’s jewel case.”
“You think, then, I have something to dread?” asked d’Artagnan.
“I mean to say, young man, that he who sleeps over a mine the match of which is already lighted, may consider himself in safety in comparison with you.”
“The devil!” said d’Artagnan, whom the positive tone of M. de Tréville began to disquiet, “the devil! What must I do?”
“Above all things be always on your guard. The cardinal has a tenacious memory and a long arm; you may depend upon it, he will repay you by some ill turn.”
“But of what sort?”
“Eh! How can I tell?