“What does you mean by boor Michon?” said the Swiss, who was chatting with the four friends when the letter came.
“Oh, pardieu, less than nothing,” said Aramis; “a charming little seamstress, whom I love dearly and from whose hand I requested a few lines as a sort of keepsake.”
“The duvil!” said the Swiss, “if she is as great a lady as her writing is large, you are a lucky fellow, gomrade!”
Aramis read the letter, and passed it to Athos.
“See what she writes to me, Athos,” said he.
Athos cast a glance over the epistle, and to disperse all the suspicions that might have been created, read aloud: