“Till tomorrow, then,” said Aramis; “for iron-nerved as you are, you must need repose.”
The next morning, when d’Artagnan entered Aramis’s chamber, he found him at the window.
“What are you looking at?” asked d’Artagnan.
“My faith! I am admiring three magnificent horses which the stable boys are leading about. It would be a pleasure worthy of a prince to travel upon such horses.”
“Well, my dear Aramis, you may enjoy that pleasure, for one of those three horses is yours.”
“Ah, bah! Which?”
“Whichever of the three you like, I have no preference.”
“And the rich caparison, is that mine, too?”
“Without doubt.”
“You laugh, d’Artagnan.”
“No, I have left off laughing, now that you speak French.”
“What, those rich holsters, that velvet housing, that saddle studded with silver—are they all for me?”
“For you and nobody else, as the horse which paws the ground is mine, and the other horse, which is caracoling, belongs to Athos.”
“ Peste! They are three superb animals!”
“I am glad they please you.”
“Why, it must have been the king who made you such a present.”