"A strategic retreat," said De Wardes.
"Why so ?" "Because the dear duke saves a sword-thrust by it." At which reply both laughed.
Raoul, indignant, turned round frowningly, flushed with anger and his lip curling with disdain.

The Chevalier de Lorraine turned on his heel, but De Wardes remained and waited.
"You will not break yourself of the habit," said Raoul to De Wardes, "of insulting the absent; yesterday it was M.d'Artagnan, to-day it is the Duke of Buckingham." "You know very well, monsieur," returned De Wardes, "that I sometimes insult those who are present." De Wardes was close to Raoul, their shoulders met, their faces approached, as if to mutually inflame each other by the fire of their looks and of their anger.

It could be seen that the one was at the height of fury, the other at the end of his patience.

Suddenly a voice was heard behind them full of grace and courtesy, saying, "I believe I heard my name pronounced." They turned round and saw D'Artagnan, who, with a smiling eye and a cheerful face, had just placed his hand on De Wardes's shoulder.

Raoul stepped back to make room for the musketeer.