“And moreover, very handsome saddles,” said Porthos, who at the moment wore on his cloak the lace of his own.
“Besides,” said Aramis, “God desires the conversion and not the death of a sinner.”
“Amen!” said Athos, “and we will return to that subject later, if such be your pleasure; but what for the moment engaged my attention most earnestly, and I am sure you will understand me, d’Artagnan, was the getting from this woman a kind of carte blanche which she had extorted from the cardinal, and by means of which she could with impunity get rid of you and perhaps of us.”
“But this creature must be a demon!” said Porthos, holding out his plate to Aramis, who was cutting up a fowl.
“And this carte blanche,” said d’Artagnan, “this carte blanche, does it remain in her hands?”
“No, it passed into mine; I will not say without trouble, for if I did I should tell a lie.”
“My dear Athos, I shall no longer count the number of times I am indebted to you for my life.”
“Then it was to go to her that you left us?” said Aramis.
“Exactly.”
“And you have that letter of the cardinal?” said d’Artagnan.
“Here it is,” said Athos; and he took the invaluable paper from the pocket of his uniform. D’Artagnan unfolded it with one hand, whose trembling he did not even attempt to conceal, to read: