Whilst this scene was going on, D’Artagnan remained with open mouth and a confused gaze. Everything had turned out so differently from what he expected that he was stupefied with wonder.  
Athos, who had been observing him and guessing his thoughts, took his arm and led him into the garden.
 
“Whilst supper is being prepared,” he said, smiling, “you will not, my friend, be sorry to have the mystery which so puzzles you cleared up.”
 
“True, monsieur le comte,” replied D’Artagnan, who felt that by degrees Athos was resuming that great influence which aristocracy had over him.
 
Athos smiled.
 
“First and foremost, dear D’Artagnan, we have no title such as count here. When I call you ‘chevalier,’ it is in presenting you to my guests, that they may know who you are. But to you, D’Artagnan, I am, I hope, still dear Athos, your comrade, your friend. Do you intend to stand on ceremony because you are less attached to me than you were?”
 
“Oh! God forbid!”
 
“Then let us be as we used to be; let us be open with each other. You are surprised at what you see here?”
 
“Extremely.”
 
“But above all things, I am a to you?”
 
“I confess it.”
 
“I am still young, am I not? Should you not have known me again, in spite of my eight-and-forty years of age?”
 
“On the contrary, I do not find you the same person at all.”
 
“I understand,” cried Athos, with a gentle blush. “Everything, D’Artagnan, even , has its limit.”
 
“Then your means, it appears, are improved; you have a capital house--your own, I presume? You have a park, and horses, servants.”
 
Athos smiled.
 
“Yes, I inherited this little property when I quitted the army, as I told you. The park is twenty acres--twenty, comprising kitchen-gardens and a common. I have two horses,--I do not count my servant’s bobtailed . My sporting dogs consist of two pointers, two harriers and two setters. But then all this extravagance is not for myself,” added Athos, laughing.
 
“Yes, I see, for the young man Raoul,” said D’Artagnan.
 
“You guess aright, my friend; this youth is an , by his mother, who left him in the house of a poor country priest. I have brought him up. It is Raoul who has worked in me the change you see; I was dried up like a tree, , attached to nothing on earth; it was only a deep affection that could make me take root again and drag me back to life. This child has caused me to recover what I had lost. I had no longer any wish to live for myself, I have lived for him. I have corrected the that I had; I have assumed the that I had not. something, but example more. I may be mistaken, but I believe that Raoul will be as a gentleman as our age could display.”
 
The remembrance of Milady to D’Artagnan.
 
“And you are happy?” he said to his friend.
 
“As happy as it is allowed to one of God’s creatures to be on this earth; but say out all you think, D’Artagnan, for you have not yet done so.”
 
“You are too bad, Athos; one can hide nothing from you,” answered D’Artagnan. “I wished to ask you if you ever feel any emotions of terror resembling----”
 
“! I finish your phrase. Yes and no. I do not feel remorse, because that woman, I profoundly hold, deserved her punishment. Had she one trait? I doubt it. I do not feel remorse, because had we allowed her to live she would have persisted in her work of destruction. But I do not mean, my friend that we were right in what we did. Perhaps all blood demands some . Hers had been accomplished; it , possibly, for us to accomplish ours.”
 
“I have sometimes thought as you do, Athos.”
 
“She had a son, that unhappy woman?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Have you ever heard of him?”
 
“Never.”
 
“He must be about twenty-three years of age,” said Athos, in a low tone. “I often think of that young man, D’Artagnan.”
 
“Strange! for I had forgotten him,” said the .
 
Athos smiled; the smile was .
 
“And Lord de Winter--do you know anything about him?”
 
“I know that he is in high favor with Charles I.”
 
“The fortunes of that now are at low water. He shed the blood of Strafford; that confirms what I said just now--blood will have blood. And the queen?”
 
“What queen?”
 
“Madame Henrietta of England, daughter of Henry IV.”
 
“She is at the Louvre, as you know.”
 
“Yes, and I hear in bitter poverty. Her daughter, during the severest cold, was obliged for want of fire to remain in bed. Do you grasp that?” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders; “the daughter of Henry IV. shivering for want of a fagot! Why did she not ask from any one of us a home instead of from Mazarin? She should have wanted nothing.”
 
“Have you ever seen the queen of England?” inquired D’Artagnan.
 
“No; but my mother, as a child, saw her. Did I ever tell you that my mother was lady of honor to Marie de Medici?”
 
“Never. You know, Athos, you never much of such matters.”
 
“Ah, mon Dieu, yes, you are right,” Athos replied; “but then there must be some occasion for speaking.”
 
“Porthos wouldn’t have waited for it so patiently,” said D’Artagnan, with a smile.
 
“Every one according to his nature, my dear D’Artagnan. Porthos, in spite of a touch of vanity, has many excellent qualities. Have you seen him?”
 
“I left him five days ago,” said D’Artagnan, and he with Gascon wit and the magnificence of Porthos in his of Pierrefonds; nor did he neglect to launch a few arrows of wit at the excellent Monsieur Mouston.
 
“I sometimes wonder,” replied Athos, smiling at that gayety which recalled the good old days, “that we could form an association of men who would be, after twenty years of separation, still so closely bound together. Friendship throws out deep roots in honest hearts, D’Artagnan. Believe me, it is only the evil-minded who deny friendship; they cannot understand it. And Aramis?”
 
“I have seen him also,” said D’Artagnan; “but he seemed to me cold.”
 
“Ah, you have se............