“Who can say whether D’Artagnan may not have betrayed us to the cardinal? who can tell whether Mazarin may not take advantage of this rendezvous to seize us?” “What! Aramis, you think that D’Artagnan, that Porthos, would lend their hands to such an infamy?” “Among friends, my dear Athos, no, you are right; but among enemies it would be only a stratagem.” Athos crossed his arms and bowed his noble head. “What can you expect, Athos? Men are so made; and we are not always twenty years old. We have cruelly wounded, as you know, that personal pride by which D’Artagnan is blindly governed. He has been beaten. Did you not observe his despair on the journey? As to Porthos, his barony was perhaps dependent on that affair. Well, he found us on his road and will not be baron this time. Perhaps that famous barony will have something to do with our interview this evening. Let us take our precautions, Athos.” “But suppose they come unarmed? What a disgrace to us.” “Oh, never fear! besides, if they do, we can easily make an excuse; we came straight off a journey and are insurgents, too.” “An excuse for us! to meet D’Artagnan with a false excuse! to have to make a false excuse to Porthos! Oh, Aramis!” continued Athos, shaking his head mournfully, “upon my soul, you make me the most miserable of men; you disenchant a heart not wholly dead to friendship. Go in whatever guise you choose; for my part, I shall go unarmed.” “No, for I will not allow you to do so. ’Tis not one man, not Athos only, not the Comte de la Fère whom you will ruin by this amiable weakness, but a whole party to whom you belong and who depend upon you.” “Be it so then,” replied Athos, sorrowfully. And they pursued their road in mournful silence. Scarcely had they reached by the Rue de la Mule the iron gate of the Place Royale, when they perceived three cavaliers, D’Artagnan, Porthos, and Planchet, the two former wrapped up in their military cloaks under which their swords were hidden, and Planchet, his musket by his side. They were waiting at the entrance of the Rue Sainte Catharine, and their horses were fastened to the rings of the arcade. Athos, therefore, commanded Bazin to fasten up his horse and that of Aramis in the same manner. They then advanced two and two, and saluted each other politely. “Now where will it be agreeable to you that we hold our conference?” inquired Aramis, perceiving that people were stopping to look at them, supposing that they were going to engage in one of those far-famed duels still extant in the memory of the Parisians, and especially the inhabitants of the Place Royale. “The gate is shut,” said Aramis, “but if these gentlemen like a cool retreat under the trees, and perfect seclusion, I will get the key from the Hotel de Rohan and we shall be well suited.” D’Artagnan darted a look into the obscurity of the Place. Porthos ventured to put his head between the railings, to try if his glance could penetrate the gloom.