Athos frowned slightly.

“I beg your pardon,” continued D’Artagnan, laughing, “I beg your pardon if I have offended you.  The future! Nein! what pretty words are words that promise, and how well they fill the mouth in default of other things! Mordioux! After having met with so many who promised, when shall I find one who will give?  But, let that pass!” continued D’Artagnan.  “What are you doing here, my dear Athos?  Are you the king’s treasurer?”

“How — why the king’s treasurer?”

“Well, since the king possess a million, he must want a treasurer.  The king of France, although he is not worth a sou, has still a superintendent of finance, M. Fouquet.  It is true, that, in exchange, M. Fouquet, they say, has a good number of millions of his own.”

“Oh! our million was spent long ago,” said Athos, laughing in his turn.

“I understand; it was frittered away in satin, precious stones, velvet, and feathers of all sorts and colors.  All these princes and princesses stood in great need of tailors and dressmakers.  Eh!  Athos, do you remember what we fellows spent in equipping ourselves for the campaign of La Rochelle, and to make our appearance on horseback?  Two or three thousand livres, by my faith!  But a king’s robe is the more ample; it would require a million to purchase the stuff.  At least, Athos, if you are not treasurer, you are on good footing at court.”

“By the faith of a gentleman, I know nothing about it,” said Athos, simply.

“What! you know nothing about it?”

“No!  I have not seen the king since we left Dover.”

“Then he has forgotten you, too! Mordioux! That is shameful!”

“His majesty has had so much business to transact.”

“Oh!” cried D’Artagnan, with one of those intelligent grimaces which he alone knew how to make, “that is enough to make me recover my love for Monseigneur Giulio Mazarini.  What, Athos! the king has not seen you since then?”

“No.”

“And you are not furious?”

“I! why should I be?  Do you imagine, my dear D’Artagnan, that it was on the king’s account I acted as I have done?  I did not know the young man.  I defended the father, who represented a principle — sacred in my eyes, and I allowed myself to be drawn towards the son from sympathy for this same principle.  Besides, he was a worthy knight, a noble creature, that father; do you remember him?”

“Yes; that is true; he was a brave, an excellent man, who led a sad life, but made a fine end.”

“Well, my dear D’Artagnan, understand this; to that king, to that man of heart, to that friend of my thoughts, if I durst venture to say so, I swore at the last hour to preserve faithfully the secret of a deposit which was to be transmitted to his son, to assist him in his hour of need.  This young man came to me; he described his destitution; he was ignorant that he was anything to me save a living memory of his father.  I have accomplished towards Charles II. what I promised Charles I.; that is all!  Of what consequence is it to me, then, whether he be grateful or not?  It is to myself I have rendered a service, by relieving myself of this responsibility, and not to him.”