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.
Mazarin wiped his forehead and looked around him. He had a great desire to go to the window, but he dared not.
“See what is going on, Monsieur D’Artagnan,” said he.
D’Artagnan went to the window with his habitual composure. “Oho!” said he, “what is this? Marechal de la Meilleraie returning without a hat