sir,” muttered the cardinal, “you have said enough; where is the treaty?”
“Here it is,” replied Aramis. “Sign, my lord,” and he gave him a pen.
Mazarin arose, walked some moments, thoughtful, but not dejected.
“And when I have signed,” he said, “what is to be my guarantee?”
“My word of honor, sir,” said Athos.
Mazarin started, turned toward the Comte de la Fere, and looking for an instant at that grand and honest countenance, took the pen.
“It is sufficient, count,” he said, and signed the treaty.
“And now, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” he said, “prepare to set off for Saint Germain and take a letter from me to the queen.”