“From the queen! Oh, oh!” said M. de Tréville. “Why, it is indeed a true royal jewel, which is worth a thousand pistoles if it is worth a denier. By whom did the queen send you this jewel?” “She gave it to me herself.” “Where?” “In the room adjoining the chamber in which she changed her toilet.” “How?” “Giving me her hand to kiss.” “You have kissed the queen’s hand?” said M. de Tréville, looking earnestly at D’Artagnan. “Her Majesty did me the honor to grant me that favor.” “And that in the presence of witnesses! Imprudent, thrice imprudent!” “No, monsieur, be satisfied; nobody saw her,” replied D’Artagnan, and he related to M. de Tréville how the affair came to pass. “Oh, the women, the women!” cried the old soldier. “I know them by their romantic imagination. Everything that savors of mystery charms them. So you have seen the arm, that was all. You would meet the queen, and she would not know who you are?” “No; but thanks to this diamond,” replied the young man. “Listen,” said M. de Tréville; “shall I give you counsel, good counsel, the counsel of a friend?” “You will do me honor, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan. “Well, then, off to the nearest goldsmith’s, and sell that diamond for the highest price you can get from him. However much of a Jew he may be, he will give you at least eight hundred pistoles. Pistoles have no name, young man, and that ring has a terrible one, which may betray him who wears it.” “Sell this ring, a ring which comes from my sovereign? Never!” said D’Artagnan. “Then, at least turn the gem inside, you silly fellow; for everybody must be aware that a cadet from Gascony does not find such stones in his mother’s jewel case.” “You think, then, I have something to dread?” asked D’Artagnan. “I mean to say, young man, that he who sleeps over a mine the match of which is already lighted, may consider himself in safety in comparison with you.” “The devil!” said D’Artagnan, whom the positive tone of M. de Tréville began to disquiet, “the devil! What must I do?” “Above all things be always on your guard. The cardinal has a tenacious memory and a long arm; you may depend upon it, he will repay you by some ill turn.” “But of what sort?” “Eh! How can I tell? Has he not all the tricks of a demon at his command? The least that can be expected is that you will be arrested.” “What! Will they dare to arrest a man in his Majesty’s service?”