“And you did cry?” he asked.
“I’faith, no,” said D’Artagnan; “I was not in voice; Monsieur du Vallon has a cold and did not cry either. Then, my lord — — ”
“Then what?” asked Mazarin.
“Look at my hat and cloak.”
And D’Artagnan displayed four gunshot holes in his cloak and two in his beaver. As for Porthos’s coat, a blow from a halberd had cut it open on the flank and a pistol shot had cut his feather in two.
“Diavolo!” said the cardinal, pensively gazing at the two friends with lively admiration; “I should have cried, I should.”
At this moment the tumult was heard nearer.