D’Artagnan blushed.
“My mistress above all,” repeated he, mechanically; “and why her rather than another?”
“Because a mistress is one of the cardinal’s favorite means; he has not one that is more expeditious. A woman will sell you for ten pistoles, witness Delilah. You are acquainted with the Scriptures?”
D’Artagnan thought of the appointment Madame Bonacieux had made with him for that very evening; but we are bound to say, to the credit of our hero, that the bad opinion entertained by M. de Tréville of women in general, did not inspire him with the least suspicion of his pretty hostess.
“But, apropos,” resumed M. de Tréville, “what has become of your three companions?”
“I was about to ask you if you had heard any news of them?”
“None, Monsieur.”
“Well, I left them on my road—Porthos at Chantilly, with a duel on his hands; Aramis at Crèvecoeur, with a ball in his shoulder; and Athos at Amiens, detained by an accusation of coining.”