ched out, and his
hands hanging listlessly, looked like a statue of discouragement.
Planchet drew up a sigh from the deepest cavities of his breast.

"Well," said he, "I see how it is. Let us be men! It is all over, is it
not? The principal thing is, monsieur, that your life is safe."

"Doubtless! doubtless!--life is something--but I am ruined!"

"Cordieu! monsieur!" said Planchet, "if it is so, we must not despair
for that; you shall become a grocer with me; I shall take you for my
partner, we will share the profits, and if there should be no more
profits, well, why then we shall share the almonds, raisins and prunes,
and we will nibble together the last quarter of Dutch cheese."

D'Artagnan could hold out no longer. "Mordioux!" cried he, with great
emotion, "thou art a brave fellow on my honor, Planchet. You have not
been playing a part, have you? You have not seen the pack-horse with the
bags under the shed yonder?"

"What horse? What bags?" said Planchet, whose trembling heart began to
suggest that D'Artagnan was mad.

"Why, the English bags, Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan, all radiant, quite
transfigured.

"Ah! good God!" articulated Planchet, drawing back before the dazzling
fire of his looks.

"Imbecile!" cried D'Artagnan, "you think me mad! Mordioux! On the
contrary, never was my head more clear, or my heart more joyous. To the
bags, Planchet, to the bags!"

"But to what bags, good heavens!"

D'Artagnan pushed Planchet towards the window.

"Under the shed yonder, don't you see a horse?"

"Yes."

"Don't you see how his back is laden?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Don't you see your lad talking with the postilion?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"Well, you know the name of that lad, because he is your own. Call him."

"Abdon! Abdon!" vociferated Planchet, from the window.

"Bring the horse!" shouted D'Artagnan.

"Bring the horse!" screamed Planchet.

"Now give ten crowns to the postilion," said D'Artagnan, in the tone he
would have employed in commanding a maneuver; "two lads to bring up the
two first bags, two to bring up the two last,--and move, Mordioux! be
lively!"

Planchet rushed down the stairs, as if the devil had been at his heels.
A moment later the lads ascended the staircase, bending beneath their
burden. D'Artagnan sent them off to their garrets, carefully closed the
door, and addressing Planchet, who, in his turn, looked a little wild,--

"Now, we are by ourselves," said he, and he spread upon the fl