took from his pocket, but with such shaking fingers that he could not find the keyhole.
“Give it to me,” said D’Artagnan, who when the gate was open deposited the key in his pocket, reckoning upon returning by that gate.
The steps were already down and the door open. Mousqueton stood at the door and Porthos was inside the carriage.
“Mount, my lord,” said D’Artagnan to Mazarin, who sprang into the carriage without waiting for a second bidding. D’Artagnan followed him, and Mousqueton, having closed the door, mounted behind the carriage with many groans.
He had made some difficulties about going, under pretext that he still suffered from his wound, but D’Artagnan had said to him: