“Oh, it’s nothing,” said d’Artagnan.

“A spent ball?”

“Not even that.”

“What is it, then?”

We have said that Athos loved d’Artagnan like a child, and this somber and inflexible personage felt the anxiety of a parent for the young man.

“Only grazed a little,” replied d’Artagnan; “my fingers were caught between two stones — that of the wall and that of my ring — and the skin was broken.”

“That comes of wearing diamonds, my master,” said Athos, disdainfully.

“Ah, to be sure,” cried Porthos, “there is a diamond. Why the devil, then, do we plague ourselves about money, when there is a diamond?”