“In the prince’s household,” said De Wardes looking up with an air of consideration, “let me see--the appointment of the master of the horse is vacant, I believe.” “Oh,” said Malicorne, “there is no question of such a post as that, monsieur; my ambition is not nearly so exalted.” De Wardes had a more penetrating observation than De Guiche, and fathomed Malicorne immediately. “The fact is,” he said, looking at him from head to foot, “a man must be either a duke or a peer to fill that post.” “All I solicit,” said Malicorne, “is a very humble appointment; I am of little importance, and I do not rank myself above my position.” “M. Malicorne, whom you see here,” said De Guiche to De Wardes, “is a very excellent fellow, whose only misfortune is that of not being of gentle birth. As far as I am concerned, you know, I attach little value to those who have but gentle birth to boast of.” “Assuredly,” said De Wardes; “but will you allow me to remark, my dear count, that, without rank of some sort, one can hardly hope to belong to his royal highness’s household?” “You are right,” said the count, “court etiquette is absolute. The devil!--we never so much as gave it a thought.” “Alas! a sad misfortune for me, monsieur le comte,” said Malicorne, changing color. “Yet not without remedy, I hope,” returned De Guiche. “The remedy is found easily enough,” exclaimed De Wardes; “you can be created a gentleman. His Eminence, the Cardinal Mazarin, did nothing else from morning till night.” “Hush, hush, De Wardes,” said the count; “no jests of that kind; it ill becomes us to turn such matters into ridicule. Letters of nobility, it is true, are purchasable; but that is a sufficient misfortune without the nobles themselves laughing at it.” “Upon my word, De Guiche, you’re quite a Puritan, as the English say.” At this moment the Vicomte de Bragelonne was announced by one of the servants in the courtyard, in precisely the same manner as he would have done in a room. “Come here, my dear Raoul. What! you, too, booted and spurred? You are setting off, then?” Bragelonne approached the group of young men, and saluted them with that quiet and serious manner peculiar to him. His salutation was principally addressed to De Wardes, with whom he was unacquainted, and whose features, on his perceiving Raoul, had assumed a strange sternness of expression. “I have come, De Guiche,” he said, “to ask your companionship. We set off for Le Havre, I presume.” “This is admirable--delightful. We shall have a most enjoyable journey. M. Malicorne, M. Bragelonne--ah! M. de Wardes, let me present you.” The young men saluted each other in a restrained manner. Their very natures seemed, from the beginning, disposed to take exception to each other. De Wardes was pliant, subtle, full of dissimulation; Raoul was calm, grave, and upright. “Decide between us--between De Wardes and myself, Raoul.” “Upon what subject?” “Upon the subject of noble birth.”