“Speak lower!” said Athos.
“—of intrigues and secrets of state,” continued d’Artagnan, complying with the recommendation. “There can be no doubt we would all be broken on the wheel; but for God’s sake, do not forget, as you yourself said, Athos, that we only write to him concerning a family affair; that we only write to him to entreat that as soon as Milady arrives in London he will put it out of her power to injure us. I will write to him, then, nearly in these terms.”
“Let us see,” said Athos, assuming in advance a critical look.
“Monsieur and dear friend—”
“Ah, yes! Dear friend to an Englishman,” interrupted Athos; “well commenced! Bravo, d’Artagnan! Only with that word you would be quartered instead of being broken on the wheel.”
“Well, perhaps. I will say, then, Monsieur , quite short.”
“You may even say, My Lord ,” replied Athos, who stickled for propriety.
“My Lord, do you remember the little goat pasture of the Luxembourg?”
“Good, the Luxembourg ! One might believe this is an allusion to the queen-mother! That’s ingenious,” said Athos.
“Well, then, we will put simply, My Lord, do you remember a certain little enclosure where your life was spared? ”
“My dear d’Artagnan, you will never make anything but a very bad secretary. Where your life was spared! For shame! that’s unworthy. A man of spirit is not to be reminded of such services. A benefit reproached is an offense committed.”