“And that day has arrived?” said Aramis.

“Yes.”

“And you are going to show those letters to M.

Fouquet?”

“I prefer to talk about them with you, instead.”

“You must be in sad want of money, my poor friend, to think of such things as these — you, too, who held M. de Mazarin’s prose effusions in such indifferent esteem.”

“The fact is, I am in want of money.”

“And then,” continued Aramis, in cold accents, “it must have been very distressing to you to be obliged to have recourse to such a means. It is cruel.”