"But," said Porthos, "my promise to M. Fouquet?"

"Which?"

"Not to leave Saint-Mande without telling him of it."

"Ah! Porthos," said D'Artagnan, "how very young you still are."

"In what way?"

"You are going to Fontainebleau, are you not, where you will find M.
Fouquet?"

"Yes."

"Probably in the king's palace?"

"Yes," repeated Porthos, with an air full of majesty.

"Well, you will accost him with these words: 'M. Fouquet, I have the
honor to inform you that I have just left Saint-Mande.'"

"And," said Porthos, with the same majestic mien, "seeing me at
Fontainebleau at the king's, M. Fouquet will not be able to tell me I am
not speaking the truth."

"My dear Porthos, I was just on the point of opening my lips to make the
same remark, but you anticipate me in everything. Oh! Porthos, how
fortunately you are gifted! Years have made not the slightest impression
on you."