“Mordioux! Aramis, that is a word which reconciles me with your greatness. To appearances! That is a musketeer’s word, in good truth! Vivent les apparences, Aramis!”

“Instead of felicitating me upon it, pardon me, D’Artagnan. It is a very mundane word which I had allowed to escape me.”

“Must I leave you, then?”

“I want time to collect my thoughts, my friend, and for my usual prayers.”

“Well, I leave you to them; but on account of that poor pagan, D’Artagnan, abridge them for once, I beg; I thirst for speech with you.”

“Well, D’Artagnan, I promise you that within an hour and a half — ”