"We have now to search for Athos," said D'Artagnan to thevivacious Aramis, when he had informed him of all that had passedsince their departure from the capital, and an excellent dinnerhad made one of them forget his thesis and the other his fatigue.

"Do you think, then, that any harm can have happened to him?"asked Aramis. "Athos is so cool, so brave, and handles his swordso skillfully."

"No doubt. Nobody has a higher opinion of the courage and skillof Athos than I have; but I like better to hear my sword clangagainst lances than against staves. I fear lest Athos shouldhave been beaten down by serving men. Those fellows strike hard,and don't leave off in a hurry. This is why I wish to set outagain as soon as possible."

"I will try to accompany you," said Aramis, "though I scarcelyfeel in a condition to mount on horseback. Yesterday I undertookto employ that cord which you see hanging against the wall, butpain prevented my continuing the pious exercise."

"That's the first time I ever heard of anybody trying to curegunshot wounds with cat-o'-nine-tails; but you were ill, andillness renders the head weak, therefore you may be excused."

"When do you mean to set out?"

"Tomorrow at daybreak. Sleep as soundly as you can tonight, andtomorrow, if you can, we will take our departure together."

"Till tomorrow, then," said Aramis; "for iron-nerved as you are,you must need repose."

The next morning, when D'Artagnan entered Aramis's chamber, hefound him at the window.

"What are you looking at?" asked D'Artagnan.

"My faith! I am admiring three magnificent horses which thestable boys are leading about. It would be a pleasure worthy ofa prince to travel upon such horses."

"Well, my dear Aramis, you may enjoy that pleasure, for one ofthose three horses is yours."

"Ah, bah! Which?"

"Whichever of the three you like, I have no preference."

"And the rich caparison, is that mine, too?"

"Without doubt."

"You laugh, D'Artagnan."

"No, I have left off laughing, now that you speak French."

"What, those rich holsters, that velvet housing, that saddlestudded with silver-are they all for me?"

"For you and nobody else, as the horse which paws the ground ismine, and the other horse, which is caracoling, belongs toAthos."

"PESTE! They are three superb animals!"

"I am glad they please you."

"Why, it must have been the king who made you such a present."

"Certainly it was not the cardinal; but don't trouble yourselfwhence they come, think only that one of the three is yourproperty."

"I choose that which the red-headed boy is leading."

"It is yours!"

"Good heaven! That is enough to drive away all my pains; I couldmount him with thirty balls in my body. On my soul, handsomestirrups! HOLA, Bazin, come here this minute."

Bazin appeared on the threshold, dull and spiritless.

"That last order is useless," interrupted D'Artagnan; "there areloaded pistols in your holsters."

Bazin sighed.

"Come, Monsieur Bazin, make yourself easy," said D'Artagnan;"people of all conditions gain the kingdom of heaven."

"Monsieur was already such a good theologian," said Bazin, almostweeping; "he might have become a bishop, and perhaps a cardinal."

"Well, but my poor Bazin, reflect a little. Of what use is it tobe a churchman, pray? You do not avoid going to war by thatmeans; you see, the cardinal is about to make the next campaign,helm on head and partisan in hand. And Monsieur de Nogaret de laValette, what do you say of him? He is a cardinal likewise. Askhis lackey how often he has had to prepare lint of him."

"Alas!" sighed Bazin. "I know it, monsieur; everything is turnedtopsy-turvy in the world nowadays."

While this dialogue was going on, the two young men and the poorlackey descended.

"Hold my stirrup, Bazin," cried Aramis; and Aramis sprang intothe saddle with his usual grace and agility, but after a fewvaults and curvets of the noble animal his rider felt his painscome on so insupportably that he turned pale and became unsteadyin his seat. D'Artagnan, who, foreseeing such an event, had kepthis eye on him, sprang toward him, caught him in his arms, andassisted him to his chamber.

"That's all right, my dear Aramis, take care of yourself," saidhe; "I will go alone in search of Athos."

"You are a man of brass," replied Aramis.

"No, I have good luck, that is all. But how do you mean to passyour time till I come back? No more theses, no more glosses uponthe fingers or upon benedictions, hey?"

Aramis smiled. "I will make verses," said he.

"Yes, I dare say; verses perfumed with the odor of the billetfrom the attendant of Madame de Chevreuse. Teach Bazin prosody;that will console him. As to the horse, ride him a little everyday, and that will accustom you to his maneuvers."

"Oh, make yourself easy on that head," replied Aramis. "You willfind me ready to follow you."

They took leave of each other, and in ten minutes, after havingcommended his friend to the cares of the hostess and Bazin,D'Artagnan was trotting along in the direction of Ameins.

How was he going to find Athos? Should he find him at all? Theposition in which he had left him was critical. He probably hadsuccumbed. This idea, while darkening his brow, drew severalsighs from him, and caused him to formulate to himself a few vowsof vengeance. Of all his friends, Athos was the eldest, and theleast resembling him in appearance, in his tastes and sympathies.

Yet he entertained a marked preference for this gentleman. Thenoble and distinguished air of Athos, those flashes of greatnesswhich from time to time broke out from the shade in which hevoluntarily kept himself, that unalterable equality of temperwhich made him the most pleasant companion in the world, thatforced and cynical gaiety, that bravery which might have beentermed blind if it had not been the result of the rarestcoolness-such qualities attracted more than the esteem, more thanthe friendship of D'Artagnan; they attracted his admiration.

Indeed, when placed beside M. de Treville, the elegant and noblecourtier, Athos in his most cheerful days might advantageouslysustain a comparison. He was of middle height; but his personwas so admirably shaped and so well proportioned that more thanonce in his struggles with Porthos he had overcome the giantwhose physical strength was proverbial among the Musketeers. Hishead, with piercing eyes, a straight nose, a chim cut like thatof Brutus, had altogether an indefinable character of grandeurand grace. His hands, of which he took little care, were thedespair of Aramis, who cultivated his with almond paste andperfumed oil. The sound of his voice was at once penetrating andmelodious; and then, that which was inconceivable in Athos, whowas always retiring, was that delicate knowledge of the world andof the usages of the most brilliant society-those manners of ahigh degree which appeared, as if unconsciously to himself, inhis least actions.

If a repast were on foot, Athos presided over it better than anyother, placing every guest exactly in the rank which hisancestors had earned for him or that he had made for himself. Ifa question in heraldry were started, Athos knew all the noblefamilies of the kingdom, their genealogy, their alliances, theircoats of arms, and the origin of them. Etiquette had no minutiaeunknown to him. He knew what were the rights of the great landowners. He was profoundly versed in hunting and falconry, andhad one day when conversing on this great art astonished evenLouis XIII himself, who took a pride in being considered a pastmaster therein.

Like all the great nobles of that period, Athos rode and fencedto perfection. But still further, his education had been solittle neglected, even with respect to scholastic studies, sorare at this time among gentlemen, that he smiled at the scrapsof Latin which Aramis sported and which Porthos pretended tounderstand. Two or three times, even, to the great astonishmentof his friends, he had, when Aramis allowed some rudimental errorto escape him, replaced a verb in its right tense and a noun inits case. Besides, his probity was irreproachable, in an age inwhich soldiers compromised so easily with their religion andtheir consciences, lovers with the rigorous delicacy of our era,and the poor with God's Seventh Commandment. This Athos, then,was a very extraordinary man.

And yet this nature so distinguished, this creature so beautiful,this essence so fine, was seen to turn insensibly toward materiallike, as old men turn toward physical and moral imbecility.Athos, in his hours of gloom-and these hours were frequent-wasextinguished as to the whole of the luminous portion of him, andhis brilliant side disappeared as into profound darkness.

Then the demigod vanished; he remained scarcely a man. His headhanging down, his eye dull, his speech slow and painful, Athoswould look for hours together at his bottle, his glass, or atGrimaud, who, accustomed to obey him by signs, read in the faintglance of his master his least desire, and satisfied itimmediately. If the four friends were assembled at one of thesemoments, a word, thrown forth occasionally with a violent effort,was the share Athos furnished to the conversation. In exchangefor his silence Athos drank enough for four, and withoutappearing to be otherwise affected by wine than by a more markedconstriction of the brow and by a deeper sadness.

D'Artagnan, whose inquiring disposition we are acquainted with,had not-whatever interest he had in satisfying his curiosity onthis subject-been able to assign any cause for these fits of forthe periods of their recurrence. Athos never received anyletters; Athos never had concerns which all his friends did notknow.

It could not be said that it was wine which produced thissadness; for in truth he only drank to combat this sadness, whichwine however, as we have said, rendered still darker. Thisexcess of bilious humor could not be attributed to play; forunlike Porthos, who accompanied the variations of chance withsongs or oaths, Athos when he won remained as unmoved as when helost. He had been known, in the circle of the Musketeers, to winin one night three thousand pistoles; to lose them even to thegold-embroidered belt for gala days, win all this again with theaddition of a hundred louis, without his beautiful eyebrow beingheightened or lowered half a line, without his hands losing theirpearly hue, without his conversation, which was cheerful thatevening, ceasing to be calm and agreeable.

Neither was it, as with our neighbors, the English, anatmospheric influence which darkened his countenance; for thesadness generally became more intense toward the fine season ofthe year. June and July were the terrible months with Athos.

For the present he had no anxiety. He shrugged his shoulderswhen people spoke of the feature. His secret, then, was in thepast, as had often been vaguely said to D'Artagnan.

This mysterious shade, spread over his whole person, renderedstill more interesting the man whose eyes or mouth, even in themost complete intoxication, had never revealed anything, howeverskillfully questions had been put to him.

"Well," thought D'Artagnan, "poor Athos is perhaps at this momentdead, and dead by my fault-for it was I who dragged him into thisaffair, of which he did not know the origin, of which he isignorant of the result, and from which he can derive noadvantage."

"Without reckoning, monsieur," added Planchet to his master'saudibly expressed reflections, "that we perhaps owe our lives tohim. Do you remember how he cried, 'On, D'Artagnan, on, I amtaken'? And when he had discharged his two pistols, what aterrible noise he made with his sword! One might have said thattwenty men, or rather twenty mad devils, were fighting."

These words redoubled the eagerness of D'Artagnan, who urged hishorse, though he stood in need of no incitement, and theyproceeded at a rapid pace. About eleven o'clock in the morningthey perceived Ameins, and at half past eleven they were at thedoor of the cursed inn.

D'Artagnan had often meditated against the perfidious host one ofthose hearty vengeances which offer consolation while they arehoped for. He entered the hostelry with his hat pulled over hiseyes, his left hand on the pommel of the sword, and cracking hiswhip with his right hand.

"Do you remember me?" said he to the host, who advanced to greethim.

"I have not that honor, monseigneur," replied the latter, hiseyes dazzled by the brilliant style in which D'Artagnan traveled.

"What, you don't know me?"

"No, monseigneur."

"Well, two words will refresh your memory. What have you donewith that gentleman against whom you had the audacity, abouttwelve days ago, to make an accusation of passing false money?"

The host became as pale as death; for D'Artagnan had assumed athreatening attitude, and Planchet modeled himself after hismaster.

"Ah, monseigneur, do not mention it!" cried the host, in the mostpitiable voice imaginable. "Ah, monseigneur, how dearly have Ipaid for that fault, unhappy wretch as I am!"

"That gentleman, I say, what has become of him?"

"Deign to listen to me, monseigneur, and be merciful! Sit down,in mercy!"

D'Artagnan, mute with anger and anxiety, took a seat in thethreatening attitude of a judge. Planchet glared fiercely overthe back of his armchair.

"Here is the story, monseigneur," resumed the trembling host;"for I now recollect you. It was you who rode off at the momentI had that unfortunate difference with the gentleman you speakof."

"Yes, it was I; so you may plainly perceive that you have nomercy to expect of you do not tell me the whole truth."

"Condescend to listen to me, and you shall know all."

"I listen."

"I had been warned by the authorities that a celebrated coiner ofbad money would arrive at my inn, with several of his companions,all disguised as Guards or Musketeers. Monseigneur, I wasfurnished with a description of your horses, your lackeys, yourcountenances-nothing was omitted."

"Go on, go on!" said D'Artagnan, who quickly understood whencesuch an exact description had come.

"I took then, in conformity with the orders of the authorities,who sent me a reinforcement of six men, such measures as Ithought necessary to get possession of the persons of thepretended coiners."

"Again!" said D'Artagnan, whose ears chafed terribly under therepetition of this word COINERs.

"Pardon me, monseigneur, for saying such things, but they form myexcuse. The authorities had terrified me, and you know that aninnkeeper must keep on good terms with the authorities."

"But once again, that gentleman-where is he? What has become ofhim? Is he dead? Is he living?"

"Patience, monseigneur, we are coming to it. There happened thenthat which you know, and of which your precipitate departure,"added the host, with an acuteness that did not escape D'Artagnan,"appeared to authorize the issue. That gentleman, your friend,defended himself desperately. His lackey, who, by an unforeseenpiece of ill luck, had quarreled with the officers, disguised asstable lads-"

"Miserable scoundrel!" cried D'Artagnan, "you were all in theplot, then! And I really don't know what prevents me fromexterminating you all."

"Alas, monseigneur, we were not in the plot, as you will soonsee. Monsieur your friend (pardon for not calling him by thehonorable name which no doubt he bears, but we do not know thatname), Monsieur your friend, having disabled two men with hispistols, retreated fighting with his sword, with which he disableone of my men, and stunned me with a blow of the flat side ofit."

"You villian, will you finish?" cried D'Artagnan, "Athos-what hasbecome of Athos?"

"While fighting and retreating, as I have told Monseigneur, hefound the door of the cellar stairs behind him, and as the doorwas open, he took out the key, and barricaded himself inside. Aswe were sure of finding him there, we left him alone."

"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "you did not really wish to kill; youonly wished to imprison him."

"Good God! To imprison him, monseigneur? Why, he imprisonedhimself, I swear to you he did. In the first place he had maderough work of it; one man was killed on the spot, and two otherswere severely wounded. The dead man and the two wounded werecarried off by their comrades, and I have heard nothing of eitherof them since. As for myself, as soon as I recovered my senses Iwent to Monsieur the Governor, to whom I related all that hadpassed, and asked, what I should do with my prisoner. Monsieurthe Governor was all astonishment. He told me he knew nothingabout the matter, that the orders I had received did not comefrom him, and that if I had the audacity to mention his name asbeing concerned in this disturbance he would have me hanged. Itappears that I had made a mistake, monsieur, that I had arrestedthe wrong person, and that he whom I ought to have arrested hadescaped."

"But Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, whose impatience was increased bythe disregard of the authorities, "Athos, where is he?"

"As I was anxious to repair the wrongs I had done the prisoner,"resumed the innkeeper, "I took my way straight to the cellar inorder to set him at liberty. Ah, monsieur, he was no longer aman, he was a devil! To my offer of liberty, he replied that itwas nothing but a snare, and that before he came out he intendedto impose his own conditions. I told him very humbly-for I couldnot conceal from myself the scrape I had got into by laying handson one of his Majesty's Musketeers-I told him I was quite readyto submit to his conditions.

"'In the first place,' said he, 'I wish my lackey placed with me,fully armed.' We hastened to obey this order; for you willplease to understand, monsieur, we were disposed to do everythingyour friend could desire. Monsieur Grimaud (he told us his name,although he does not talk much)-Monsieur Grimaud, then, went downto the cellar, wounded as he was; then his master, havingadmitted him, barricaded the door afresh, and ordered us toremain quietly in our own bar."

"But where is Athos now?" cried D'Artagnan. "Where is Athos?"

"In the cellar, monsieur."

"What, you scoundrel! Have you kept him in the cellar all thistime?"

"Merciful heaven! No, monsieur! We keep him in the cellar! Youdo not know what he is about in the cellar. Ah! If you couldbut persuade him to come out, monsieur, I should owe you thegratitude of my whole life; I should adore you as my patronsaint!"

"Then he is there? I shall find him there?"

"Without doubt you will, monsieur; he persists in remainingthere. We every day pass through the air hole some bread at theend of a fork, and some meat when he asks for it; but alas! Itis not of bread and meat of which he makes the greatestconsumption. I once endeavored to go down with two of myservants; but he flew into terrible rage. I heard the noise hemade in loading his pistols, and his servant in loading hismusketoon. Then, when we asked them what were their intentions,the master replied that he had forty charges to fire, and that heand his lackey would fire to the last one before he would allow asingle soul of us to set foot in the cellar. Upon this I wentand complained to the governor, who replied that I only had whatI deserved, and that it would teach me to insult honorablegentlemen who took up their abode in my house."

"So that since that time-" replied D'Artagnan, totally unable torefrain from laughing at the pitiable face of the host.

"So from that time, monsieur," continued the latter, "we have ledthe most miserable life imaginable; for you must know, monsieur,that all our provisions are in the cellar. There is our wine inbottles, and our wine in casks; the beer, the oil, and thespices, the bacon, and sausages. And as we are prevented fromgoing down there, we are forced to refuse food and drink to thetravelers who come to the house; so that our hostelry is dailygoing to ruin. If your friend remains another week in my cellarI shall be a ruined man."

"And not more than justice, either, you ass! Could you notperceive by our appearance that we were people of quality, andnot coiners-say?"

"Yes, monsieur, you are right," said the host. "But, hark, hark!There he is!"

"Somebody has disturbed him, without doubt," said D'Artagnan.

"But he must be disturbed," cried the host; "Here are two Englishgentlemen just arrived."

"well?"

"Well, the English like good wine, as you may know, monsieur;these have asked for the best. My wife has perhaps requestedpermission of Monsieur Athos to go into the cellar to satisfythese gentlemen; and he, as usual, has refused. Ah, good heaven!There is the hullabaloo louder than ever!"

D'Artagnan, in fact, heard a great noise on the side next thecellar. He rose, and preceded by the host wringing his hands,and followed by Planchet with his musketoon ready for use, heapproached the scene of action.

The two gentlemen were exasperated; they had had a long ride, andwere dying with hunger and thirst.

"But this is tyranny!" cried one of them, in very good French,though with a foreign accent, "that this madman will not allowthese good people access to their own wine! Nonsense, let usbreak open the door, and if he is too far gone in his madness,well, we will kill him!"

"Softly, gentlemen!" said D'Artagnan, drawing his pistols fromhis belt, "you will kill nobody, if you please!"

"Good, good!" cried the calm voice of Athos, from the other sideof the door, "let them just come in, these devourers of littlechildren, and we shall see!"

Brave as they appeared to be, the two English gentlemen looked ateach other hesitatingly. One might have thought there was inthat cellar one of those famished ogres - the gigantic heroes ofpopular legends, into whose cavern nobody could force their waywith impunity.

There was a moment of silence; but at length the two Englishmenfelt ashamed to draw back, and the angrier one descended the fiveor six steps which led to the cellar, and gave a kick against thedoor enough to split a wall.

"Planchet," said D'Artagnan, cocking his pistols, "I will takecharge of the one at the top; you look to the one below. Ah,gentlemen, you want battle; and you shall have it."

"Good God!" cried the hollow voice of Athos, "I can hearD'Artagnan, I think."

"Yes," cried D'Artagnan, raising his voice in turn, "I am here,my friend."

"Ah, good, then," replied Athos, "we will teach them, these doorbreakers!"

The gentlemen had drawn their swords, but they found themselvestake between two fires. They still hesitated an instant; but, asbefore, pride prevailed, and a second kick split the door frombottom to top.

"Stand on one side, D'Artagnan, stand on one side," cried Athos."I am going to fire!"

"Gentlemen," exclaimed D'Artagnan, whom reflection neverabandoned, "gentlemen, think of what you are about. Patience,Athos! You are running your heads into a very silly affair; youwill be riddled. My lackey and I will have three shots at you,and you will get as many from the cellar. You will then have outswords, with which, I can assure you, my friend and I can playtolerably well. Let me conduct your business and my own. Youshall soon have something to drink; I give you my word."

"If there is any left," grumbled the jeering voice of Athos.

The host felt a cold sweat creep down his back.

"How! 'If there is any left!" murmured he.

"What the devil! There must be plenty left," replied D'Artagnan."Be satisfied of that; these two cannot have drunk all thecellar. Gentlemen, return your swords to their scabbards."

"Well, provided you replace your pistols in your belt."

"Willingly."

And D'Artagnan set the example. Then, turning toward Planchet,he made him a sign to uncock his musketoon.

The Englishmen, convinced of these peaceful proceedings, sheathedtheir swords grumblingly. The history of Athos's imprisonmentwas then related to them; and as they were really gentlemen, theypronounced the host in the wrong.

"Now, gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, "go up to your room again; andin ten minutes, I will answer for it, you shall have all youdesire."

The Englishmen bowed and went upstairs.

"Now I am alone, my dear Athos," said D'Artagnan; "open the door,I beg of you."

"Instantly," said Athos.

Then was heard a great noise of fagots being removed and of thegroaning of posts; these were the counterscarps and bastions ofAthos, which the besieged himself demolished.

An instant after, the broken door was removed, and the pale faceof Athos appeared, who with a rapid glance took a survey of thesurroundings.

D'Artagnan threw himself on his neck and embraced him tenderly.He then tried to draw him from his moist abode, but to hissurprise he perceived that Athos staggered.

"You are wounded," said he.

"I! Not at all. I am dead drunk, that's all, and never did aman more strongly set about getting so. By the Lord, my goodhost! I must at least have drunk for my part a hundred and fiftybottles."

"Mercy!" cried the host, "if the lackey has drunk only half asmuch as the master, I am a ruined man."

"Grimaud is a well-bred lackey. He would never think of faringin the same manner as his master; he only drank from the cask.Hark! I don't think he put the faucet in again. Do you hear it?It is running now."

D'Artagnan burst into a laugh which changed the shiver of thehost into a burning fever.

In the meantime, Grimaud appeared in his turn behind his master,with the musketoon on his shoulder, and his head shaking. Likeone of those drunken satyrs in the pictures of Rubens. He wasmoistened before and behind with a greasy liquid which the hostrecognized as his best olive oil.

The four crossed the public room and proceeded to take possessionof the best apartment in the house, which D'Artagnan occupiedwith authority.

In the meantime the host and his wife hurried down with lampsinto the cellar, which had so long been interdicted to them andwhere a frightful spectacle awaited them.

Beyond the fortifications through which Athos had made a breachin order to get out, and which were composed of fagots, planks,and empty casks, heaped up according to all the rules of thestrategic art, they found, swimming in puddles of oil and wine,the bones and fragments of all the hams they had eaten; while aheap of broken bottles filled the whole left-hand corner of thecellar, and a tun, the cock of which was left running, wasyielding, by this means, the last drop of its blood. "The imageof devastation and death," as the ancient poet says, "reigned asover a field of battle."

Of fifty large sausages, suspended from the joists, scarcely tenremained.

Then the lamentations of the host and hostess pierced the vaultof the cellar. D'Artagnan himself was moved by them. Athos didnot even turn his head.

To grief succeeded rage. The host armed himself with a spit, andrushed into the chamber occupied by the two friends.

"Some wine!" said Athos, on perceiving the host.

"Some wine!" cried the stupefied host, "some wine? Why you havedrunk more than a hundred pistoles' worth! I am a ruined man,lost, destroyed!"

"Bah," said Athos, "we were always dry."

"If you had been contented with drinking, well and good; but youhave broken all the bottles."

"You pushed me upon a heap which rolled down. That was yourfault."

"All my oil is lost!"

"Oil is a sovereign balm for wounds; and my poor Grimaud here wasobliged to dress those you had inflicted on him."

"All my sausages are gnawed!"

"There is an enormous quantity of rats in that cellar."

"You shall pay me for all this," cried the exasperated host.

"Triple ass!" said Athos, rising; but he sank down againimmediately. He had tried his strength to the utmost.D'Artagnan came to his relief with his whip in his hand.

The host drew back and burst into tears.

"This will teach you," said D'Artagnan, "to treat the guests Godsends you in a more courteous fashion."

"God? Say the devil!"

"My dear friend," said D'Artagnan, "if you annoy us in thismanner we will all four go and shut ourselves up in your cellar,and we will see if the mischief is as great as you say."

"Oh, gentlemen," said the host, "I have been wrong. I confessit, but pardon to every sin! You are gentlemen, and I am a poorinnkeeper. You will have pity on me."

"Ah, if you speak in that way," said Athos, "you will break myheart, and the tears will flow from my eyes as the wine flowedfrom the cask. We are not such devils as we appear to be. Comehither, and let us talk."

The host approached with hesitation.

"Come hither, I say, and don't be afraid," continued Athos. "Atthe very moment when I was about to pay you, I had placed mypurse on the table."

"Yes, monsieur."

"That purse contained sixty pistoles; where is it?"

"Deposited with the justice; they said it was bad money."

"Very well; get me my purse back and keep the sixty pistoles."

"But Monseigneur knows very well that justice never lets go thatwhich it once lays hold of. If it were bad money, there might besome hopes; but unfortunately, those were all good pieces."

"Manage the matter as well as you can, my good man; it does notconcern me, the more so as I have not a livre left."

"Come," said D'Artagnan, "let us inquire further. Athos's horse,where is that?"

"In the stable."

"How much is it worth?"

"Fifty pistoles at most."

"It's worth eighty. Take it, and there ends the matter."

"What," cried Athos, "are you selling my horse - my Bajazet? Andpray upon what shall I make my campaign; upon Grimaud?"

"I have brought you another," said D'Artagnan.

"Another?"

"And a magnificent one!" cried the host.

"Well, since there is another finer and younger, why, you maytake the old one; and let us drink."

"What?" asked the host, quite cheerful again.

"Some of that at the bottom, near the laths. There are twenty-five bottles of it left; all the rest were broken by my fall.Bring six of them."

"Why, this man is a cask!" said the host, aside. "If he onlyremains here a fortnight, and pays for what he drinks, I shallsoon re-establish my business."

"And don't forget," said D'Artagnan, "to bring up four bottles ofthe same sort for the two English gentlemen."

"And now," said Athos, "while they bring the wine, tell me,D'Artagnan, what has become of the others, come!"

D'Artagnan related how he had found Porthos in bed with astrained knee, and Aramis at a table between two theologians. Ashe finished, the host entered with the wine ordered and a hamwhich, fortunately for him, had been left out of the cellar.

"That's well!" said Athos, filling his glass and that of hisfriend; "here's to Porthos and Aramis! But you, D'Artagnan, whatis the matter with you, and what has happened to you personally?You have a sad air."

"Alas," said D'Artagnan, "it is because I am the mostunfortunate? Tell me."

"Presently," said D'Artagnan.

"Presently! And why presently? Because you think I am drunk?D'Artagnan, remember this! My ideas are never so clear as when Ihave had plenty of wine. Speak, then, I am all ears."

D'Artagnan related his adventure with Mme. Bonacieux. Athoslistened to him without a frown; and when he had finished, said,"Trifles, only trifles!" That was his favorite word.

"You always say TRIFLES, my dear Athos!" said D'Artagnan, "andthat come very ill from you, who have never loved."

The drink-deadened eye of Athos flashed out, but only for amoment; it became as dull and vacant as before.

"That's true," said he, quietly, "for my part I have neverloved."

"Acknowledge, then, you stony heart," said D'Artagnan, "that youare wrong to be so hard upon us tender hearts."

"Tender hearts! Pierced hearts!" said Athos.

"What do you say?"

"I say that love is a lottery in which he who wins, wins death!You are very fortunate to have lost, believe me, my dearD'Artagnan. And if I have any counsel to give, it is, alwayslose!"

"She seemed to love me so!"

"She SEEMED, did she?"

"Oh, she DID love me!"

"You child, why, there is not a man who has not believed, as youdo, that his mistress loved him, and there lives not a man whohas not been deceived by his mistress."

"Except you, Athos, who never had one."

"That's true," said Athos, after a moment's silence, "that'strue! I never had one! Let us drink!"

"But then, philosopher that you are," said D'Artagnan, "instructme, support me. I stand in need of being taught and consoled."

"Consoled for what?"

"For my misfortune."

"Your misfortune is laughable," said Athos, shrugging hisshoulders; "I should like to know what you would say if I were torelate to you a real tale of love!"

"Which has happened to you?"

"Or one of my friends, what matters?"

"Tell it, Athos, tell it."

"Better if I drink."

"Drink and relate, then."

"Not a bad idea!" said Athos, emptying and refilling his glass."The two things agree marvelously well."

"I am all attention," said D'Artagnan.

Athos collected himself, and in proportion as he did so,D'Artagnan saw that he became pale. He was at that period ofintoxication in which vulgar drinkers fall and sleep. He kepthimself upright and dreamed, without sleeping. This somnambulismof drunkenness had something frightful in it.

"You particularly wish it?" asked he.

"I pray for it," said D'Artagnan.

"Be it then as you desire. One of my friends - one of my friends,please to observe, not myself," said Athos, interrupting himselfwith a melancholy smile, "one of the counts of my province - thatis to say, of Berry - noble as a Dandolo or a Montmorency, attwenty-five years of age fell in love with a girl of sixteen,beautiful as fancy can paint. Through the ingenuousness of herage beamed an ardent mind, not of the woman, but of the poet.She did not please; she intoxicated. She lived in a small townwith her brother, who was a curate. Both had recently come intothe country. They came nobody knew whence; but when seeing herso lovely and her brother so pious, nobody thought of askingwhence they came. They were said, however, to be of goodextraction. My friend, who was seigneur of the country, mighthave seduced her, or taken her by force, at his will - for he wasmaster. Who would have come to the assistance of two strangers,two unknown persons? Unfortunately he was an honorable man; hemarried her. The fool! The ass! The idiot!"

"How so, if he love her?" asked D'Artagnan.

"Wait," said Athos. "He took her to his chateau, and made herthe first lady in the province; and in justice it must be allowedthat she supported her rank becomingly."

"Well?" asked D'Artagnan.

"Well, one day when she was hunting with her husband," continuedAthos, in a low voice, and speaking very quickly," she fell fromher horse and fainted. The count flew to her to help, and as sheappeared to be oppressed by her clothes, he ripped them open withhis poinard, and in so doing laid bare her shoulder.D'Artagnan," said Athos, with a maniacal burst of laughter,"guess what she had on her shoulder."

"How can I tell?" said D'Artagnan.

"A FLEUR-DE-LIS," said Athos. "She was branded."

Athos emptied at a single draught the glass he held in his hand.

"Horror!" cried D'Artagnan. "What do you tell me?"

"Truth, my friend. The angel was a demon; the poor young girlhad stolen the sacred vessels from a church."

"And what did the count do?"

"The count was of the highest nobility. He had on his estatesthe rights of high and low tribunals. He tore the dress of thecountess to pieces; he tied her hands behind her, and hanged heron a tree."

"Heavens, Athos, a murder?" cried D'Artagnan.

"No less," said Athos, as pale as a corpse. "But methinks I needwine!" and he seized by the neck the last bottle that was left,put it to his mouth, and emptied it at a single draught, as hewould have emptied an ordinary glass.

Then he let his head sink upon his two hands, while D'Artagnanstood before him, stupefied.

"That has cured me of beautiful, poetical, and loving women,"said Athos, after a considerable pause, raising his head, andforgetting to continue the fiction of the count. "God grant youas much! Let us drink."

"Then she is dead?" stammered D'Artagnan.

"PARBLEU!" said Athos. "But hold out your glass. Some ham, myboy, or we can't drink."

"And her brother?" added D'Artagnan, timidly.

"Her brother?" replied Athos.

"Yes, the priest."

"Oh, I inquired after him for the purpose of hanging himlikewise; but he was beforehand with me, he had quit the curacythe night before."

"Was it ever known who this miserable fellow was?"

"He was doubtless the first lover and accomplice of the fairlady. A worthy man, who had pretended to be a curate for thepurpose of getting his mistress married, and securing her aposition. He has been hanged and quartered, I hope."

"My God, my God!" cried D'Artagnan, quite stunned by the relationof this horrible adventure.

"Taste some of this ham, D'Artagnan; it is exquisite," saidAthos, cutting a slice, which he placed on the young man's plate.

"What a pity it is there were only four like this in the cellar.I could have drunk fifty bottles more."

D'Artagnan could no longer endure this conversation, which hadmade him bewildered. Allowing his head to sink upon his twohands, he pretended to sleep.

"These young fellows can none of them drink," said Athos, lookingat him with pity, "and yet this is one of the best!"