“Oh, Monsieur!” said Planchet, humiliated by the suspicion, and moreover, terrified at the calm air of the musketeer.
“And I,” said Porthos, rolling his large eyes, “remember, I will skin you alive.”
“Ah, Monsieur!”
“And I,” said Aramis, with his soft, melodius voice, “remember that I will roast you at a slow fire, like a savage.”
“Ah, Monsieur!”
Planchet began to weep. We will not venture to say whether it was from terror created by the threats or from tenderness at seeing four friends so closely united.
D’Artagnan took his hand. “See, Planchet,” said he, “these gentlemen only say this out of affection for me, but at bottom they all like you.”
“Ah, Monsieur,” said Planchet, “I will succeed or I will consent to be cut in quarters; and if they do cut me in quarters, be assured that not a morsel of me will speak.”
It was decided that