But with me, my dear Porthos, no politics at all, that is quite clear.

You have labored hard in fortifying Belle-Isle; the king wished to know the name of the clever engineer under whose directions the works were carried out; you are modest, as all men of true genius are; perhaps Aramis wishes to put you under a bushel.

But I happen to seize hold of you; I make it known who you are; I produce you; the king rewards you; and that is the only policy I have to do with." "And the only one I will have to do with either," said Porthos, holding out his hand to D'Artagnan.
But D'Artagnan knew Porthos's grasp; he knew that, once imprisoned within the baron's five fingers, no hand ever left it without being half-crushed.

He therefore held out, not his hand, but his fist, and Porthos did not even perceive the difference.

The servants talked a little with each other in an undertone, and whispered a few words, which D'Artagnan understood, but which he took very good care not to let Porthos understand.