cassock, which hangs behind his uniform," said another Musketeer.

"What is he waiting for?" asked another.

"Only till the queen has given an heir to the crown of France."

"No jesting upon that subject, gentlemen," said Porthos; "thank
God the queen is still of an age to give one!"

"They say that Monsieur de Buckingham is in France," replied
Aramis, with a significant smile which gave to this sentence,
apparently so simple, a tolerably scandalous meaning.

"Aramis, my good friend, this time you are wrong," interrupted
Porthos. "Your wit is always leading you beyond bounds; if
Monsieur de Treville heard you, you would repent of speaking
thus."

"Are you going to give me a lesson, Porthos?" cried Aramis, from
whose usually mild eye a flash passed like lightning.

"My dear fellow, be a Musketeer or an abbe. Be one or the other,
but not both," replied Porthos. "You know what Athos told you
the other day; you eat at everybody's mess. Ah, don't be angry,
I beg of you, that would be useless; you know what is agreed upon
between you, Athos and me. You go to Madame d'Aguillon's, and
you pay your court to her; you go to Madame de Bois-Tracy's, the
cousin of Madame de Chevreuse, and you pass for being far
advanced in the good graces of that lady. Oh, good Lord! Don't
trouble yourself to reveal your good luck; no one asks for your