“And that is not the same thing, Aramis,” said Porthos, majestically.
“My friend, if it had only depended upon me, you should have become a prince.”
Porthos began to bite his nails in a melancholy way.
“That is where you have been wrong,” continued he, “in deceiving me; for that promised duchy I reckoned upon. Oh! I reckoned upon it seriously, knowing you to be a man of your word, Aramis.”
“Poor Porthos! pardon me, I implore you!”
“So, then,” continued Porthos, without replying to the bishop’s prayer, “so then, it seems, I have quite fallen out with Louis XIV.?”
“Oh! I will settle all that, my good friend, I will settle all that. I will take it on myself alone!”