“Stop a bit!” said Aramis.
“Well thought of, Porthos; this time you have an idea.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Porthos, drawing himself up at Athos’s compliment; “as there is a diamond, let us sell it.”
“But,” said d’Artagnan, “it is the queen’s diamond.”
“The stronger reason why it should be sold,” replied Athos. “The queen saving M. de Buckingham, her lover; nothing more just. The queen saving us, her friends; nothing more moral. Let us sell the diamond. What says Monsieur the Abbé? I don’t ask Porthos; his opinion has been given.”
“Why, I think,” said Aramis, blushing as usual, “that his ring not coming from a mistress, and consequently not being a love token, d’Artagnan may sell it.”
“My dear Aramis, you speak like theology personified. Your advice, then, is—”
“To sell the diamond,” replied Aramis.
“Well, then,” said d’Artagnan, gaily, “let us sell the diamond, and say no more about it.”
The fusillade continued; but the four friends were out of reach, and the Rochellais only fired to appease their consciences.
“My faith, it was time that idea came into Porthos’s head. Here we are at the camp; therefore, gentlemen, not a word more of this affair. We are observed; they are coming to meet us. We shall be carried in triumph.”
In fact, as we have said, the whole camp was in motion. More than two thousand persons had assisted, as at a spectacle, in this fortunate but