"M.

Fouquet is a very good sort of a man." "Humph!" "A great politician." Aramis made a gesture of indifference.
"An all-powerful minister." "I only hold to the king and the pope." "_Dame!_ listen then," said D'Artagnan, in the most natural tone imaginable.

"I said that because everybody here swears by M.Fouquet.
The plain is M.Fouquet's; the salt-mines I am about to buy are M.Fouquet's; the island in which Porthos studies topography is M.
Fouquet's; the garrison is M.Fouquet's; the galleys are M.Fouquet's.

I confess, then, that nothing would have surprised me in your enfeoffment, or rather in that of your diocese, to M.Fouquet.He is a different master from the king, that is all; but quite as powerful as Louis." "Thank God! I am not vassal to anybody; I belong to nobody, and am entirely my own master," replied Aramis, who, during this conversation, followed with his eye every gesture of D'Artagnan, every glance of Porthos.

But D'Artagnan was impassible and Porthos motionless; the thrusts aimed so skillfully were parried by an able adversary; not one hit the mark.