"It all sounds rather medieval," says Aramis, and he can hardly imagine how a woman would willingly subject herself to so much when she will not even keep the child. Some mixture of altruism and economic need, no doubt.

Unable to resist the view this time, Aramis pulls on the boxers he'd shed earlier and follows Porthos into the kitchen. "How long will those cook?" he asks, rummaging in the cold box for juice. He still feels a little drained after such an extraordinary tumble, and pours a glass for Porthos as well.