Athos, when he reached his appointed room, observed through the gratings of his window, walls and roofs; and was told, on inquiry, by Comminges, that he was looking on the back of the pavilion where D’Artagnan was confined.
“Yes, ‘tis too true,” said Comminges, “‘tis almost a prison; but what a singular fancy this is of yours, count — you, who are the very flower of our nobility — to squander your valor and loyalty amongst these upstarts, the Frondists! Really, count, if ever I thought that I had a friend in the ranks of the royal army, it was you. A Frondeur! you, the Comte de la Fere, on the side of Broussel, Blancmesnil and Viole!
For shame! you, a Frondeur!”
“On my word of