Thanks to what Aramis had told him, D'Artagnan, who knewalready that Porthos called himself Du Vallon, was now awarethat he styled himself, from his estate, De Bracieux; andthat he was, on account of this estate, engaged in a lawsuitwith the Bishop of Noyon. It was, then, in the neighborhoodof Noyon that he must seek that estate. His itinerary waspromptly determined: he would go to Dammartin, from whichplace two roads diverge, one toward Soissons, the othertoward Compiegne; there he would inquire concerning theBracieux estate and go to the right or to the left accordingto the information obtained.

Planchet, who was still a little concerned for his safetyafter his recent escapade, declared that he would followD'Artagnan even to the end of the world, either by the roadto the right or by that to the left; only he begged hisformer master to set out in the evening, for greatersecurity to himself. D'Artagnan suggested that he shouldsend word to his wife, so that she might not be anxiousabout him, but Planchet replied with much sagacity that hewas very sure his wife would not die of anxiety through notknowing where he was, while he, Planchet, remembering herincontinence of tongue, would die of anxiety if she didknow.

This reasoning seemed to D'Artagnan so satisfactory that heno further insisted; and about eight o'clock in the evening,the time when the vapors of night begin to thicken in thestreets, he left the Hotel de la Chevrette, and followed byPlanchet set forth from the capital by way of the SaintDenis gate.

At midnight the two travelers were at Dammartin, but it wasthen too late to make inquiries - the host of the Cygne dela Croix had gone to bed.

The next morning D'Artagnan summoned the host, one of thosesly Normans who say neither yes nor no and fear to committhemselves by giving a direct answer. D'Artagnan, however,gathered from his equivocal replies that the road to theright was the one he ought to take, and on that uncertaininformation he resumed his journey. At nine in the morninghe reached Nanteuil and stopped for breakfast. His host herewas a good fellow from Picardy, who gave him all theinformation he needed. The Bracieux estate was a few leaguesfrom Villars-Cotterets.

D'Artagnan was acquainted with Villars-Cotterets having gonethither with the court on several occasions; for at thattime Villars-Cotterets was a royal residence. He thereforeshaped his course toward that place and dismounted at theDauphin d'Or. There he ascertained that the Bracieux estatewas four leagues distant, but that Porthos was not atBracieux. Porthos had, in fact, been involved in a disputewith the Bishop of Noyon in regard to the Pierrefondsproperty, which adjoined his own, and weary at length of alegal controversy which was beyond his comprehension, he putan end to it by purchasing Pierrefonds and added that nameto his others. He now called himself Du Vallon de Bracieuxde Pierrefonds, and resided on his new estate.

The travelers were therefore obliged to stay at the hoteluntil the next day; the horses had done ten leagues that dayand needed rest. It is true they might have taken others,but there was a great forest to pass through and Planchet,as we have seen, had no liking for forests after dark.

There was another thing that Planchet had no liking for andthat was starting on a journey with a hungry stomach.Accordingly, D'Artagnan, on awaking, found his breakfastwaiting for him. It need not be said that Planchet inresuming his former functions resumed also his formerhumility and was not ashamed to make his breakfast on whatwas left by D'Artagnan.

It was nearly eight o'clock when they set out again. Theircourse was clearly defined: they were to follow the roadtoward Compiegne and on emerging from the forest turn to theright.

The morning was beautiful, and in this early springtime thebirds sang on the trees and the sunbeams shone through themisty glades, like curtains of golden gauze.

In other parts of the forest the light could scarcelypenetrate through the foliage, and the stems of two old oaktrees, the refuge of the squirrel, startled by thetravelers, were in deep shadow.

There came up from all nature in the dawn of day a perfumeof herbs, flowers and leaves, which delighted the heart.D'Artagnan, sick of the closeness of Paris, thought thatwhen a man had three names of his different estates joinedone to another, he ought to be very happy in such aparadise; then he shook his head, saying, "If I were Porthosand D'Artagnan came to make me such a proposition as I amgoing to make to him, I know what I should say to it."

As to Planchet, he thought of little or nothing, but washappy as a hunting-hound in his old master's company.

At the extremity of the wood D'Artagnan perceived the roadthat had been described to him, and at the end of the roadhe saw the towers of an immense feudal castle.

"Oh! oh!" he said, "I fancied this castle belonged to theancient branch of Orleans. Can Porthos have negotiated forit with the Duc de Longueville?"

"Faith!" exclaimed Planchet, "here's land in good condition;if it belongs to Monsieur Porthos I wish him joy."

"Zounds!" cried D'Artagnan, "don't call him Porthos, noreven Vallon; call him De Bracieux or De Pierrefonds; thouwilt knell out damnation to my mission otherwise."

As he approached the castle which had first attracted hiseye, D'Artagnan was convinced that it could not be therethat his friend dwelt; the towers, though solid and as ifbuilt yesterday, were open and broken. One might havefancied that some giant had cleaved them with blows from ahatchet.

On arriving at the extremity of the castle D'Artagnan foundhimself overlooking a beautiful valley, in which, at thefoot of a charming little lake, stood several scatteredhouses, which, humble in their aspect, and covered, somewith tiles, others with thatch, seemed to acknowledge astheir sovereign lord a pretty chateau, built about thebeginning of the reign of Henry IV., and surmounted by fourstately, gilded weather-cocks. D'Artagnan no longer doubtedthat this was Porthos's pleasant dwelling place.

The road led straight up to the chateau which, compared toits ancestor on the hill, was exactly what a fop of thecoterie of the Duc d'Enghein would have been beside a knightin steel armor in the time of Charles VII. D'Artagnanspurred his horse on and pursued his road, followed byPlanchet at the same pace.

In ten minutes D'Artagnan reached the end of an alleyregularly planted with fine poplars and terminating in aniron gate, the points and crossed bars of which were gilt.In the midst of this avenue was a nobleman, dressed in greenand with as much gilding about him as the iron gate, ridingon a tall horse. On his right hand and his left were twofootmen, with the seams of their dresses laced. Aconsiderable number of clowns were assembled and renderedhomage to their lord.

"Ah!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "can this be the Seigneurdu Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds? Well-a-day! how he hasshrunk since he gave up the name of Porthos!"

"This cannot be Monsieur Porthos," observed Planchetreplying, as it were, to his master's thoughts. "MonsieurPorthos was six feet high; this man is scarcely five."

"Nevertheless," said D'Artagnan, "the people are bowing verylow to this person."

As he spoke, he rode toward the tall horse - to the man ofimportance and his valets. As he approached he seemed torecognize the features of this individual.

"Jesu!" cried Planchet, "can it be?"

At this exclamation the man on horseback turned slowly andwith a lofty air, and the two travelers could see, displayedin all their brilliancy, the large eyes, the vermilionvisage, and the eloquent smile of - Musqueton.

It was indeed Musqueton - Musqueton, as fat as a pig,rolling about with rude health, puffed out with good living,who, recognizing D'Artagnan and acting very differently fromthe hypocrite Bazin, slipped off his horse and approachedthe officer with his hat off, so that the homage of theassembled crowd was turned toward this new sun, whicheclipsed the former luminary.

"Monsieur d'Artagnan! Monsieur d'Artagnan!" cried Musqueton,his fat cheeks swelling out and his whole frame perspiringwith joy; "Monsieur d'Artagnan! oh! what joy for my lord andmaster, Du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds!"

"Thou good Musqueton! where is thy master?"

"You stand upon his property!"

"But how handsome thou art - how fat! thou hast prosperedand grown stout!" and D'Artagnan could not restrain hisastonishment at the change good fortune had produced on theonce famished one.

"Hey, yes, thank God, I am pretty well," said Musqueton.

"But hast thou nothing to say to thy friend Planchet?"

"How, my friend Planchet? Planchet - art thou there?" criedMusqueton, with open arms and eyes full of tears.

"My very self," replied Planchet; "but I wanted first to seeif thou wert grown proud."

"Proud toward an old friend? never, Planchet! thou wouldstnot have thought so hadst thou known Musqueton well."

"So far so well," answered Planchet, alighting, andextending his arms to Musqueton, the two servants embracedwith an emotion which touched those who were present andmade them suppose that Planchet was a great lord indisguise, so highly did they estimate the position ofMusqueton.

"And now, sir," resumed Musqueton, when he had rid himselfof Planchet, who had in vain tried to clasp his hands behindhis friend's fat back, "now, sir, allow me to leave you, forI could not permit my master to hear of your arrival fromany but myself; he would never forgive me for not havingpreceded you."

"This dear friend," said D'Artagnan, carefully avoiding toutter either the former name borne by Porthos or his newone, "then he has not forgotten me?"

"Forgotten - he!" cried Musqueton; "there's not a day, sir,that we don't expect to hear that you were made marshaleither instead of Monsieur de Gassion, or of Monsieur deBassompierre."

On D'Artagnan's lips there played one of those rare andmelancholy smiles which seemed to emanate from the depth ofhis soul - the last trace of youth and happiness that hadsurvived life's disillusions.

"And you - fellows," resumed Musqueton, "stay near Monsieurle Comte d'Artagnan and pay him every attention in yourpower whilst I go to prepare my lord for his visit."

And mounting his horse Musqueton rode off down the avenue onthe grass at a hand gallop.

"Ah, there! there's something promising," said D'Artagnan."No mysteries, no cloak to hide one's self in, no cunningpolicy here; people laugh outright, they weep for joy here.I see nothing but faces a yard broad; in short, it seems tome that nature herself wears a holiday garb, and that thetrees, instead of leaves and flowers, are covered with redand green ribbons as on gala days."

"As for me," said Planchet, "I seem to smell, from thisplace, even, a most delectable perfume of fine roast meat,and to see the scullions in a row by the hedge, hailing ourapproach. Ah! sir, what a cook must Monsieur Pierrefondshave, when he was so fond of eating and drinking, evenwhilst he was only called Monsieur Porthos!"

"Say no more!" cried D'Artagnan. "If the reality correspondswith appearances I am lost; for a man so well off will neverchange his happy condition, and I shall fail with him, as Ihave already done with Aramis."