“Come in, gentlemen, come in,” called D’Artagnan; “you are here in my apartment, and we are all faithful servants of the king and cardinal.” “Then, gentlemen, you will not oppose our executing the orders we have received?” asked one who appeared to be the leader of the party. “On the contrary, gentlemen, we would assist you if it were necessary.” “What does he say?” grumbled Porthos. “You are a simpleton,” said Athos. “Silence!” “But you promised me—” whispered the poor mercer. “We can only save you by being free ourselves,” replied D’Artagnan, in a rapid, low tone; “and if we appear inclined to defend you, they will arrest us with you.” “It seems, nevertheless—” “Come, gentlemen, come!” said D’Artagnan, aloud; “I have no motive for defending Monsieur. I saw him today for the first time, and he can tell you on what occasion; he came to demand the rent of my lodging. Is that not true, Monsieur Bonacieux? Answer!” “That is the very truth,” cried the mercer; “but Monsieur does not tell you—” “Silence, with respect to me, silence, with respect to my friends; silence about the queen, above all, or you will ruin everybody without saving yourself! Come, come, gentlemen, remove the fellow.” And D’Artagnan pushed the half-stupefied mercer among the Guards, saying to him, “You are a shabby old fellow, my dear. You come to demand money of me—of a Musketeer! To prison with him! Gentlemen, once more, take him to prison, and keep him under key as long as possible; that will give me time to pay him.” The officers were full of thanks, and took away their prey. As they were going down D’Artagnan laid his hand on the shoulder of their leader. “May I not drink to your health, and you to mine?” said D’Artagnan, filling two glasses with the Beaugency wine which he had obtained from the liberality of M. Bonacieux. “That will do me great honor,” said the leader of the posse, “and I accept thankfully.” “Then to yours, monsieur—what is your name?” “Boisrenard.” “Monsieur Boisrenard.” “To yours, my gentlemen! What is your name, in your turn, if you please?” “D’Artagnan.” “To yours, monsieur.” “And above all others,” cried D’Artagnan, as if carried away by his enthusiasm, “to that of the king and the cardinal.” The leader of the posse would perhaps have doubted the sincerity of D’Artagnan if the wine had been bad; but the wine was good, and he was convinced. “What diabolical villainy you have performed here,” said Porthos, when the officer had rejoined his companions and the four friends found themselves alone. “Shame, shame, for four Musketeers to allow an unfortunate fellow who cried for help to be arrested in their midst! And a gentleman to hobnob with a bailiff!” “Porthos,” said Aramis, “Athos has already told you that you are a simpleton, and I am quite of his opinion. D’Artagnan, you are a great man; and when you occupy Monsieur de Tréville’s place, I will come and ask your influence to secure me an abbey.”