This speech was heard by Porthos in the same sense as if it had still been in the year 1640 and related to the true cardinal. “Ho! ho! What are the wishes of his eminence?” “He wishes to have you in his service.” “And who spoke to him of me?” “Rochefort—you remember him?” “Yes, _pardieu!_ It was he who gave us so much trouble and kept us on the road so much; you gave him three sword-wounds in three separate engagements.” “But you know he is now our friend?” “No, I didn’t know that. So he cherishes no resentment?” “You are mistaken, Porthos,” said D’Artagnan. “It is I who cherish no resentment.” Porthos didn’t understand any too clearly; but then we know that understanding was not his strong point. “You say, then,” he continued, “that the Count de Rochefort spoke of me to the cardinal?” “Yes, and the queen, too.” “The queen, do you say?” “To inspire us with confidence she has even placed in Mazarin’s hands that famous diamond—you remember all about it—that I once sold to Monsieur des Essarts and of which, I don’t know how, she has regained possession.” “But it seems to me,” said Porthos, “that she would have done much better if she had given it back to you.” “So I think,” replied D’Artagnan; “but kings and queens are strange beings and have odd fancies; nevertheless, since they are the ones who have riches and honors, we are devoted to them.” “Yes, we are devoted to them,” repeated Porthos; “and you—to whom are you devoted now?” “To the king, the queen, and to the cardinal; moreover, I have answered for your devotion also.” “And you say that you have made certain conditions on my behalf?” “Magnificent, my dear fellow, magnificent! In the first place you have plenty of money, haven’t you? forty thousand francs income, I think you said.” Porthos began to be suspicious. “Eh! my friend,” said he, “one never has too much money. Madame du Vallon left things in much disorder; I am not much of a hand at figures, so that I live almost from hand to mouth.” “He is afraid I have come to borrow money,” thought D’Artagnan. “Ah, my friend,” said he, “it is all the better if you are in difficulties.” “How is it all the better?” “Yes, for his eminence will give you all that you want—land, money, and titles.” “Ah! ah! ah!” said Porthos, opening his eyes at that last word. “Under the other cardinal,” continued D’Artagnan, “we didn’t know enough to make our profits; this, however, doesn’t concern you, with your forty thousand francs income, the happiest man in the world, it seems to me.” Porthos sighed. “At the same time,” continued D’Artagnan, “notwithstanding your forty thousand francs a year, and perhaps even for the very reason that you have forty thousand francs a year, it seems to me that a little coronet would do well on your carriage, hey?” “Yes indeed,” said Porthos.