said D’Artagnan, “what does my lord think of that reply?”
“Man of talent!” cried Mazarin.
“In truth,” said Porthos, “I understand; but now — — ”
About the middle of the Rue des Petits Champs they were stopped by a second patrol.
“Who goes there?” inquired the captain of the patrol.
“Keep back, my lord,” said D’Artagnan. And Mazarin buried himself so far behind the two friends that he disappeared, completely hidden between them.
“Who goes there?” cried the same voice, impatiently whilst D’Artagnan perceived that they had rushed to the horses’