“What!” cried he, in an accent of greater astonishment than before, “your second witness is Monsieur Aramis?” “Doubtless! Are you not aware that we are never seen one without the others, and that we are called among the Musketeers and the Guards, at court and in the city, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, or the Three Inseparables? And yet, as you come from Dax or Pau—” “From Tarbes,” said D’Artagnan. “It is probable you are ignorant of this little fact,” said Athos. “My faith!” replied D’Artagnan, “you are well named, gentlemen; and my adventure, if it should make any noise, will prove at least that your union is not founded upon contrasts.” In the meantime, Porthos had come up, waved his hand to Athos, and then turning toward D’Artagnan, stood quite astonished. Let us say in passing that he had changed his baldric and relinquished his cloak. “Ah, ah!” said he, “what does this mean?” “This is the gentleman I am going to fight with,” said Athos, pointing to D’Artagnan with his hand and saluting him with the same gesture. “Why, it is with him I am also going to fight,” said Porthos. “But not before one o’clock,” replied D’Artagnan. “And I also am to fight with this gentleman,” said Aramis, coming in his turn onto the place. “But not until two o’clock,” said D’Artagnan, with the same calmness. “But what are you going to fight about, Athos?” asked Aramis. “Faith! I don’t very well know. He hurt my shoulder. And you, Porthos?” “Faith! I am going to fight—because I am going to fight,” answered Porthos, reddening. Athos, whose keen eye lost nothing, perceived a faintly sly smile pass over the lips of the young Gascon as he replied, “We had a short discussion upon dress.” “And you, Aramis?” asked Athos. “Oh, ours is a theological quarrel,” replied Aramis, making a sign to D’Artagnan to keep secret the cause of their duel. Athos indeed saw a second smile on the lips of D’Artagnan. “Indeed?” said Athos. “Yes; a passage of St. Augustine, upon which we could not agree,” said the Gascon. “Decidedly, this is a clever fellow,” murmured Athos. “And now you are assembled, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “permit me to offer you my apologies.” At this word _apologies_, a cloud passed over the brow of Athos, a haughty smile curled the lip of Porthos, and a negative sign was the reply of Aramis. “You do not understand me, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, throwing up his head, the sharp and bold lines of which were at the moment gilded by a bright ray of the sun. “I asked to be excused in case I should not be able to discharge my debt to all three; for Monsieur Athos has the right to kill me first, which must much diminish the face-value of your bill, Monsieur Porthos, and render yours almost null, Monsieur Aramis. And now, gentlemen, I repeat, excuse me, but on that account only, and—on guard!” At these words, with the most gallant air possible, D’Artagnan drew his sword.