“If you prefer any other place,” said Athos, in his persuasive voice, “choose for yourselves.”
“This place, if Monsieur d’Herblay can procure the key, is the best that we can have,” was the answer.
Aramis went off at once, begging Athos not to remain alone within reach of d’Artagnan and Porthos; a piece of advice which was received with a contemptuous smile.
Aramis returned soon with a man from the Hôtel de Rohan, who was saying to him:
“You swear, sir, that it is not so?”
“Stop,” and Aramis gave him a louis d’or.
“Ah! you will not swear, my master,” said the concierge, shaking his head.
“Well, one can never say what may happen; at present we and these gentlemen are excellent friends.”
“Yes, certainly,” added Athos and the other two.
D’Artagnan had heard the conversation and had understood it.
“You see?” he said to Porthos.
“What do I see?”
“That he wouldn’t swear.”
“Swear what?”
“That man wanted Aramis to swear that we are not going to the Place Royale to fight.”
“And Aramis wouldn’t swear?”
“No.”
“Attention, then!”
Athos did not lose sight of the two speakers. Aramis opened the gate and faced around in order that d’Artagnan and Porthos might enter. In passing through the gate, the hilt of the lieutenant’s sword was caught in the grating and he was obliged to pull off his cloak; in doing so he showed the butt end of his pistols and a ray of the moon was reflected on the shining metal.
“Do you see?” whispered Aramis to Athos, touching his shoulder with one hand and pointing with the other to the arms which the Gascon wore under his belt.
“Alas! I do!” replied Athos, with a deep sigh.
He entered third, and Aramis, who shut the gate after him, last. The two servingmen waited without; but as if they likewise mistrusted each other, they kept their respective distances.
XXVIII
The Place Royale
They proceeded silently to the centre of the Place, but as at this very moment the moon had just emerged from behind a cloud, they thought they might be observed if they remained on that spot and therefore regained the shade of the lime-trees.
There were benches here and there; the four gentlemen stopped near them; at a sign from Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan sat down, the two others stood in front of them.
After a few minutes of silent embarrassment, Athos spoke.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “our presence here is the best proof of former friendship; not one of us has failed the others at this rendezvous; not one has, therefore, to reproach himself.”
“Hear me, count,” replied d’Artagnan; “instead of making compliments to each other, let us explain our conduct to each other, like men of right and honest hearts.”
“I wish for nothing more; have you any cause of complaint against me or Monsieur d’Herblay? If so, speak out,” answered Athos.
“I have,” replied d’Artagnan. “When I saw you at your château at Bragelonne, I made certain proposals to you which you perfectly understood; instead of answering me as a friend, you played with me as a child; the friendship, therefore, that you boast of was not broken yesterday by the shock of swords, but by your dissimulation at your castle.”
“D’Artagnan!” said Athos, reproachfully.
“You asked for candor and you have it. You ask what I have against you; I tell you. And I have the same sincerity to show you, if you wish, Monsieur d’Herblay; I acted in a similar way to you and you also deceived me.”
“Really, Monsieur, you say strange things,” said Aramis. “You came seeking me to make to me certain proposals, but did you make them? No, you sounded me, nothing more. Very well, what did I say to you?—that Mazarin was contemptible and that I wouldn’t serve Mazarin. But that is all. Did I tell you that I wouldn’t serve any other? On the contrary, I gave you to understand, I think, that I adhered to the princes. We even joked very pleasantly, if I remember rightly, on the very probable contingency of your being charged by the cardinal with my arrest. Were you a party man? There is no doubt of that. Well, why should not we, too, belong to a party? You had your secret and we had ours; we didn’t exchange them. So much the better; it proves that we know how to keep our secrets.”
“I do not reproach you, Monsieur,” said d’Artagnan; “ ’tis only because Monsieur de la Fère has spoken of friendship that I question your conduct.”
“And what do you find in it that is worthy of blame?” asked Aramis, haughtily.
The blood mounted instantly to the temples of d’Artagnan, who arose, and replied:
“I consider it worthy conduct of a pupil of Jesuits.”
On seeing d’Artagnan rise, Porthos rose also; these four men were therefore all standing at the same time, with a menacing aspect, opposite to each other.
Upon hearing d’Artagnan’s reply, Aramis seemed about to draw his sword, when Athos prevented him.
“D’Artagnan,” he said, “you are here tonight, still infuriated by yesterday’s adventure. I believed your heart noble enough to enable a friendship of twenty years to overcome an affront of a quarter of an hour. Come, do you really think you have anything to say against me? Say it then; if I am in fault I will avow the error.”
The grave and harmonious tones of that beloved voice seemed to have still its ancient influence, whilst that of Aramis, which had become harsh and tuneless in his moments of ill-humor, irritated him. He answered therefore:
“I think, Monsieur le Comte, that you had something to communicate to me at your château of Bragelonne, and that gentleman”—he pointed to Aramis—“had also something to tell me when I was in his convent. At that time I was not concerned in the adventure, in the course of which you have so successfully estopped me! However, because I was prudent you must not take me for a fool. If I had wished to widen the breach
