The most preoccupied of the four friends was certainlyD'Artagnan, although he, in his quality of Guardsman, would bemuch more easily equipped than Messieurs the Musketeers, who wereall of high rank; but our Gascon cadet was, as may have beenobserved, of a provident and almost avaricious character, andwith that (explain the contradiction) so vain as almost to rivalPorthos. To this preoccupation of his vanity, D'Artagnan at thismoment joined an uneasiness much less selfish. Notwithstandingall his inquiries respecting Mme. Bonacieux, he could obtain nointelligence of her. M. de Treville had spoken of her to thequeen. The queen was ignorant where the mercer's young wife was,but had promised to have her sought for; but this promise wasvery vague and did not at all reassure D'Artagnan.

Athos did not leave his chamber; he made up his mind not to takea single step to equip himself.

"We have still fifteen days before us," said he to his friends."well, if at the end of a fortnight I have found nothing, orrather if nothing has come to find me, as I a, too good aCatholic to kill myself with a pistol bullet, I will seek a goodquarrel with four of his Eminence's Guards or with eightEnglishmen, and I will fight until one of them has killed me,which, considering the number, cannot fail to happen. It willthen be said of me that I died for the king; so that I shall haveperformed my duty without the expense of an outfit."

Porthos continued to walk about with his hands behind him,tossing his head and repeating, "I shall follow up on my idea."

Aramis, anxious and negligently dressed, said nothing.

It may be seen by these disastrous details that desolationreigned in the community.

The lackeys on their part, like the coursers of Hippolytus,shared the sadness of their masters. Mousqueton collected astore of crusts; Bazin, who had always been inclined to devotion,never quit the churches; Planchet watched the flight of flies;and Grimaud, whom the general distress could not induce to breakthe silence imposed by his master, heaved sighs enough to softenthe stones.

The three friends - for, as we have said, Athos had sworn not tostir a foot to equip himself - went out early in the morning, andreturned late at night. They wandered about the streets, lookingat the pavement a if to see whether the passengers had not left apurse behind them. They might have been supposed to be followingtracks, so observant were they wherever they went. When they metthey looked desolately at one another, as much as to say, "Haveyou found anything?"

However, as Porthos had first found an idea, and had thought ofit earnestly afterward, he was the first to act. He was a man ofexecution, this worthy Porthos. D'Artagnan perceived him one daywalking toward the church of St. Leu, and followed himinstinctively. He entered, after having twisted his mustache andelongated his imperial, which always announced on his part themost triumphant resolutions. As D'Artagnan took some precautionsto conceal himself, Porthos believed he had not been seen.D'Artagnan entered behind him. Porthos went and leaned againstthe side of a pillar. D'Artagnan, still unperceived, supportedhimself against the other side.

There happened to be a sermon, which made the church very full ofpeople. Porthos took advantage of this circumstance to ogle thewomen. Thanks to the cares of Mousqueton, the exterior was forfrom announcing the distress of the interior. His hat was alittle napless, his feather was a little faded, his gold lace wasa little tarnished, his laces were a trifle frayed; but in theobscurity of the church these things were not seen, and Porthoswas still the handsome Porthos.

D'Artagnan observed, on the bench nearest to the pillar againstwhich Porthos leaned, sort of ripe beauty, rather yellow andrather dry, but erect and haughty under her black hood. The eyesof Porthos were furtively cast upon this lady, and then rovedabout at large over the nave.

On her side the lady, who from time to time blushed, darted withthe rapidity of lightning a glance toward the inconstant Porthos;and then immediately the eyes of Porthos wandered anxiously. Itwas plain that this mode of proceeding piqued the lady in theblack hood, for she bit her lips till they bled, scratched theend of her nose, and could not sit still in her seat.

Porthos, seeing this, retwisted his mustache, elongated hisimperial a second time, and began to make signals to a beautifullady who was near the choir, and who not only was a beautifullady, but still further, no doubt, a great lady - for she hadbehind her a Negro boy who had brought the cushion on which sheknelt, and a female servant who held the emblazoned bag in whichwas placed the book from which she read the Mass.

The lady with the black hood followed through all theirwanderings the looks of Porthos, and perceived that they restedupon the lady with the velvet cushion, the little Negro, and themaid-servant.

During this time Porthos played close. It was almostimperceptible motions of his eyes, fingers placed upon the lips,little assassinating smiles, which really did assassinate thedisdained beauty.

Then she cried, "Ahem!" under cover of the MEA CULPA, strikingher breast so vigorously that everybody, even the lady with thered cushion, turned round toward her. Porthos paid no attention.Nevertheless, he understood it all, but was deaf.

The lady with the red cushion produced a great effect - for shewas very handsome - upon the lady with he black hood, who saw inher a rival really to be dreaded; a great effect upon Porthos,who thought her much prettier than the lady with the black hood;a great effect upon D'Artagnan, who recognized in her the lady ofMeung, of Calais, and of Dover, whom his persecutor, the man withthe scar, had saluted by the name of Milady.

D'Artagnan, without losing sight of the lady of the red cushion,continued to watch the proceedings of Porthos, which amused himgreatly. He guessed that the lady of the black hood was theprocurator's wife of the Rue aux Ours, which was the moreprobable from the church of St. Leu being not far from thatlocality.

He guessed, likewise, by induction, that Porthos was taking hisrevenge for the defeat of Chantilly, when the procurator's wifehad proved so refractory with respect to her purse.

Amid all this, D'Artagnan remarked also that not one countenanceresponded to the gallantries of Porthos. There were onlychimeras and illusions; but for real love, for true jealousy, isthere any reality except illusions and chimeras?

The sermon over, the procurator's wife advanced toward the holyfont. Porthos went before her, and instead of a finger, dippedhis whole hand in. The procurator's wife smiled, thinking thatit was for her Porthos had put himself to this trouble; but shewas cruelly and promptly undeceived. When she was only aboutthree steps from him, he turned his head round, fixing his eyessteadfastly upon the lady with the red cushion, who had risen andwas approaching, followed by her black boy and her woman.

When the lady of the red cushion came close to Porthos, Porthosdrew his dripping hand from the font. The fair worshippertouched the great hand of Porthos with her delicate fingers,smiled, made the sign of the cross, and left the church.

This was too much for the procurator's wife; she doubted notthere was an intrigue between this lady and Porthos. If she hadbeen a great lady she would have fainted; but as she was only aprocurator's wife, she contented herself saying to the Musketeerwith concentrated fury, "Eh, Monsieur Porthos, you don't offer meany holy water?"

Porthos, at the sound of that voice, started like a man awakenedfrom a sleep of a hundred years.

"Ma-madame!" cried he; "is that you? How is your husband, ourdear Monsieur Coquenard? Is he still as stingy as ever? Wherecan my eyes have been not to have seen you during the two hoursof the sermon?"

"I was within two paces of you, monsieur," replied theprocurator's wife; "but you did not perceive me because you hadno eyes but for the pretty lady to whom you just now gave theholy water."

Porthos pretended to be confused. "Ah," said he, "you haveremarked - "

"I must have been blind not to have seen."

"Yes," said Porthos, "that is a duchess of my acquaintance whim Ihave great trouble to meet on account of the jealousy of herhusband, and who sent me word that she should come today to thispoor church, buried in this vile quarter, solely for the sake ofseeing me."

"Monsieur Porthos," said the procurator's wife, "will you havethe kindness to offer me your arm for five minutes? I havesomething to say to you."

"Certainly, madame," said Porthos, winking to himself, as agambler does who laughs at the dupe he is about to pluck.

At that moment D'Artagnan passed in pursuit of Milady; he cast apassing glance at Porthos, and beheld this triumphant look.

"Eh, eh!" said he, reasoning to himself according to thestrangely easy morality of that gallant period, "there is one whowill be equipped in good time!"

Porthos, yielding to the pressure of the arm of the procurator'swife, as a bark yields to the rudder, arrived at the cloister St.Magloire - a little-frequented passage, enclosed with a turnstileat each end. In the daytime nobody was seen there but mendicantsdevouring their crusts, and children at play.

"Ah, Monsieur Porthos," cried the procurator's wife, when she wasassured that no one who was a stranger to the population of thelocality could either see or hear her, "ah, Monsieur Porthos, youare a great conqueror, as it appears!"

"I, madame?" said Porthos, drawing himself up proudly; "how so?"

"The signs just now, and the holy water! But that must be aprincess, at least - that lady with her Negro boy and her maid!"

"My God! Madame, you are deceived," said Porthos; "she is simplya duchess."

"And that running footman who waited at the door, and thatcarriage with a coachman in grand livery who sat waiting on hisseat?"

Porthos had seen neither the footman nor the carriage, but withhe eye of a jealous woman, Mme. Coquenard had seen everything.

Porthos regretted that he had not at once made the lady of thered cushion a princess.

"Ah, you are quite the pet of the ladies, Monsieur Porthos!"resumed the procurator's wife, with a sigh.

"Well," responded Porthos, "you may imagine, with the physiquewith which nature has endowed me, I am not in want of good luck."

"Good Lord, how quickly men forget!" cried the procurator's wife,raising her eyes toward heaven.

"Less quickly than the women, it seems to me," replied Porthos;"for I, madame, I may say I was your victim, when wounded, dying,I was abandoned by the surgeons. I, the offspring of a noblefamily, who placed reliance upon your friendship - I was neardying of my wounds at first, and of hunger afterward, in abeggarly inn at Chantilly, without you ever deigning once toreply to the burning letters I addressed to you."

"But, Monsieur Porthos," murmured the procurator's wife, whobegan to feel that, to judge by the conduct of the great ladiesof the time, she was wrong.

"I, who had sacrificed for you the Baronne de - "

"I know it well."

"The Comtesse de - "

"Monsieur Porthos, be generous!"

"You are right, madame, and I will not finish."

"But it was my husband who would not hear of lending."

"Madame Coquenard," said Porthos, "remember the first letter youwrote me, and which I preserve engraved in my memory."

The procurator's wife uttered a groan.

"Besides," said she, "the sum you required me to borrow wasrather large."

"Madame Coquenard, I gave you the preference. I had but to writeto the Duchesse - but I won't repeat her name, for I am incapableof compromising a woman; but this I know, that I had but to writeto her and she would have sent me fifteen hundred."

The procurator's wife shed a tear.

"Monsieur Porthos," said she, "I can assure you that you haveseverely punished me; and if in the time to come you should findyourself in a similar situation, you have but to apply to me."

"Fie, madame, fie!" said Porthos, as if disgusted. "Let us nottalk about money, if you please; it is humiliating."

"Then you no longer love me!" said the procurator's wife, slowlyand sadly.

Porthos maintained a majestic silence.

"And that is the only reply you make? Alas, I understand."

"Think of the offense you have committed toward me, madame! Itremains HERE!" said Porthos, placing his hand on his heart, andpressing it strongly.

"I will repair it, indeed I will, my dear Porthos."

"Besides, what did I ask of you?" resumed Porthos, with amovement of the shoulders full of good fellowship. "A loan,nothing more! After all, I am not an unreasonable man. I knowyou are not rich, Madame Coquenard, and that your husband isobliged to bleed his poor clients to squeeze a few paltry crownsfrom them. Oh! If you were a duchess, a marchioness, or acountess, it would be quite a different thing; it would beunpardonable."

The procurator's wife was piqued.

"Please to know, Monsieur Porthos," said she, "that my strongbox,the strongbox of a procurator's wife though if may be, is betterfilled than those of your affected minxes."

"The doubles the offense," said Porthos, disengaging his arm fromthat of the procurator's wife; "for if you are rich, MadameCoquenard, then there is no excuse for your refusal."

"When I said rich," replied the procurator's wife, who saw thatshe had gone too far, "you must not take the word literally. Iam not precisely rich, though I am pretty well off."

"Hold, madame," said Porthos, "let us say no more upon thesubject, I beg of you. You have misunderstood me, all sympathyis extinct between us."

"Ingrate that you are!"

"Ah! I advise you to complain!" said Porthos.

"Begone, then, to your beautiful duchess; I will detain you nolonger."

"And she is not to be despised, in my opinion."

"Now, Monsieur Porthos, once more, and this is the last! Do youlove me still?"

"Ah, madame," said Porthos, in the most melancholy tone he couldassume, "when we are about to enter upon a campaign - a campaign,in which my presentiments tell me I shall be killed - "

"Oh, don't talk of such things!" cried the procurator's wife,bursting into tears.

"Something whispers me so," continued Porthos, becoming more andmore melancholy.

"Rather say that you have a new love."

"Not so; I speak frankly to you. No object affects me; and Ieven feel here, at the bottom of my heart, something which speaksfor you. But in fifteen days, as you know, or as you do notknow, this fatal campaign is to open. I shall be fearfullypreoccupied with my outfit. Then I must make a journey to see myfamily, in the lower part of Brittany, to obtain the sumnecessary for my departure."

Porthos observed a last struggle between love and avarice.

"And as," continued he, "the duchess whom you saw at the churchhas estates near to those of my family, we mean to make thejourney together. Journeys, you know, appear much shorter whenwe travel two in company."

"Have you no friends in Paris, then, Monsieur Porthos?" said theprocurator's wife.

"I thought I had," said Porthos, resuming his melancholy air;"but I have been taught my mistake."

"You have some!" cried the procurator's wife, in a transport thatsurprised even herself. "Come to our house tomorrow. You arethe son of my aunt, consequently my cousin; you come from Noyon,in Picardy; you have several lawsuits and no attorney. Can yourecollect all that?"

"Perfectly, madame."

"Cone at dinnertime."

"Very well."

"And be upon your guard before my husband, who is rather shrewd,notwithstanding his seventy-six years."

"Seventy-six years! PESTE! That's a fine age!" replied Porthos.

"A great age, you mean, Monsieur Porthos. Yes, the poor man maybe expected to leave me a widow, any hour," continued she,throwing a significant glance at Porthos. "Fortunately, by ourmarriage contract, the survivor takes everything."

"All?"

"Yes, all."

"You are a woman of precaution, I see, my dear Madame Coquenard,"said Porthos, squeezing the hand of the procurator's wifetenderly.

"We are then reconciled, dear Monsieur Porthos?" said she,simpering.

"For life," replied Porthos, in the same manner.

"Till we meet again, then, dear traitor!"

"Till we meet again, my forgetful charmer!"

"Tomorrow, my angel!"

"Tomorrow, flame of my life!"