“What is that, my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan?”

“Simply say: ‘Mazarin was a pitiful wretch.’“

“Perhaps he is dead.”

“More the reason — I say was; if I did not hope that he was dead, I would entreat you to say: ‘Mazarin is a pitiful wretch.’ Come, say so, say so, for love of me.”

“Well, I will.”

“Say it!”

“Mazarin was a pitiful wretch,” said Raoul, smiling at the musketeer, who roared with laughter, as in his best days.

“A moment,” said the latter; “you have spoken my first proposition, here is the conclusion of it, —