Accordingly, that same evening D’Artagnan repaired to the quarters of Athos, whom he found in a fair way of emptying his bottle of Spanish wine, an occupation which he religiously fulfilled every night.

He related what had taken place between the cardinal and himself, and drawing the commission from his pocket,

“Here, my dear Athos,” said he; “this naturally belongs to you.”

Athos smiled his sweet, fascinating smile.

“My friend,” said he, “for Athos this is too much, for the Comte de la Fère it is too little. Keep the commission; it is yours. Alas! my God! it has cost you enough.”

D’Artagnan left Athos’s room and went to Porthos’s.

He found him dressed in a magnificent coat covered with splendid embroidery, looking at himself in a glass.

“Ah, ha!” exclaimed Porthos; “it is you, dear friend. How do you think these garments fit me?”

“Wonderfully well,” said D’Artagnan. “But I have come to offer you a dress which will suit you still better.”

“What’s that?” asked Porthos.

“That of a lieutenant in the musketeers.”

D’Artagnan related to Porthos his interview with the cardinal, and taking the commission from his pocket,

“Here, my dear,” said he; “write your name in it, and become my officer.”

Porthos cast his eyes over the commission, and returned it to D’Artagnan, to the young man’s great astonishment.

“Yes,” said he—“yes, that would flatter me very much, but I should not have time enough to enjoy the distinction. During our expedition to Béthune my duchess’s husband died; so that, my dear, since the coffer of the defunct is holding out its arms to me, I am going to marry the widow. Look here! I was trying on my wedding suit. Keep your lieutenancy, my dear, keep it.”

The young man entered Aramis’s apartment.

He found him kneeling before a praying-desk, with his head leaning on an open prayer-book.

He described to him his interview with the cardinal, and for the third time drawing his commission from his pocket,

“You, our friend, our intelligence, our invisible protector,” said he, “accept this commission. You have deserved it more than any one by your wisdom and your counsels, which were always followed by such happy results.”

“Alas! dear friend,” said Aramis, “our recent adventures have entirely disgusted me with life and with the sword. This time my determination is irrevocably taken. After the siege I shall enter the house of the Lazarists. Keep the commission, D’Artagnan. The profession of arms suits you. You will be a brave and gallant captain.”

D’Artagnan, his eye moist with gratitude and beaming with joy, went back to Athos, whom he found still at table, contemplating the charms of his last glass of Malaga by the light of his lamp.