“Oh, yes, Monsieur Raoul!” said Mousqueton, “the letter was very consoling. These gentlemen read it to me and I wept for joy.”
“But at any rate, you know where he is, Monsieur d’Artagnan?” asked Raoul, somewhat comforted.
“Ah! that’s the thing!” replied the Gascon. “Undoubtedly I know it, but it is a mystery.”
“Not to me, I hope?”
“No, not to you, so I am going to tell you where he is.”
Porthos devoured D’Artagnan with wondering eyes.
“Where the devil shall I say that he is, so that he cannot try to rejoin him?” thought D’Artagnan.