“Ah, monsieur,” interrupted Aramis, “permit me to observe to you that you have not acted in this affair as a gallant man ought.”

“What, monsieur!” cried d’Artagnan, “and do you suppose—­”

“I suppose, monsieur that you are not a fool, and that you knew very well, although coming from Gascony, that people do not tread upon handkerchiefs without a reason.  What the devil!  Paris is not paved with cambric!”

“Monsieur, you act wrongly in endeavoring to mortify me,” said d’Artagnan, in whom the natural quarrelsome spirit began to speak more loudly than his pacific resolutions.  “I am from Gascony, it is true; and since you know it, there is no occasion to tell you that Gascons are not very patient, so that when they have begged to be excused once, were it even for a folly, they are convinced that they have done already at least as much again as they ought to have done.”

“Monsieur, what I say to you about the matter,” said Aramis, “is not for the sake of seeking a quarrel.  Thank God, I am not a bravo!  And being a Musketeer but for a time, I only fight when I am forced to do so, and always with great repugnance; but this time the affair is serious, for here is a lady compromised by you.”

“By us, you mean!” cried d’Artagnan.

“Why did you so maladroitly restore me the handkerchief?”

“Why did you so awkwardly let it fall?”

“I have said, monsieur, and I repeat, that the handkerchief did not fall from my pocket.”

“And thereby you have lied twice, monsieur, for I saw it fall.”

“Ah, you take it with that tone, do you, Master Gascon?  Well, I will teach you how to behave yourself.”

“And I will send you back to your Mass book, Master Abbe.  Draw, if you please, and instantly—­”

“Not so, if you please, my good friend—­not here, at least.  Do you not perceive that we are opposite the Hotel d’Arguillon, which is full of the cardinal’s creatures?  How do I know that this is not his Eminence who has honored you with the commission to procure my head?  Now, I entertain a ridiculous partiality for my head, it seems to suit my shoulders so correctly.  I wish to kill you, be at rest as to that, but to kill you quietly in a snug, remote place, where you will not be able to boast of your death to anybody.”

“I agree, monsieur; but do not be too confident.  Take your handkerchief; whether it belongs to you or another, you may perhaps stand in need of it.”

“Monsieur is a Gascon?” asked Aramis.

“Yes.  Monsieur does not postpone an interview through prudence?”

“Prudence, monsieur, is a virtue sufficiently useless to Musketeers, I know, but indispensable to churchmen; and as I am only a Musketeer provisionally, I hold it good to be prudent.  At two o’clock I shall have the honor of expecting you at the hotel of Monsieur de Treville.  There I will indicate to you the best place and time.”