the nag to his cavalier, as if
he required some time to ascertain whether it could be to him that such
strange reproaches were addressed; then, when he could not possibly
entertain any doubt of the matter, his eyebrows slightly bent, and with
an accent of irony and insolence impossible to be described, he replied
to d'Artagnan, "I was not speaking to you, sir."

"But I am speaking to you!" replied the young man, additionally
exasperated with this mixture of insolence and good manners, of
politeness and scorn.

The stranger looked at him again with a slight smile, and retiring
from the window, came out of the hostelry with a slow step, and placed
himself before the horse, within two paces of d'Artagnan. His quiet
manner and the ironical expression of his countenance redoubled the
mirth of the persons with whom he had been talking, and who still
remained at the window.

D'Artagnan, seeing him approach, drew his sword a foot out of the
scabbard.

"This horse is decidedly, or rather has been in his youth, a buttercup,"
resumed the stranger, continuing the remarks he had begun, and
addressing himself to his auditors at the window, without paying the
least attention to the exasperation of d'Artagnan, who, however placed
himself between him and them. "It is a color very well known in botany,
but till the present time very rare among horses."

"There are people who laugh at the horse that would not dare to laugh at
the master," cried the young emulator of the furious Treville.

"I do not often laugh, sir," replied the stranger, "as you may perceive
by the expression of my countenance; but nevertheless I retain the
privilege of laughing when I please."

"And I," cried d'Artagnan, "will allow no man to laugh when it
displeases me!"

"Indeed, sir," continued the stranger, more calm than ever; "well, that
is perfectly right!" and turning on his heel, was about to re-enter the
hostelry by the front gate, beneath which d'Artagnan on arriving had
observed a saddled horse.

But, d'Artagnan was not of a character to allow a man to escape him thus
who had the insolence to ridicule him. He drew his sword entirely from
the scabbard, and followed him, crying, "Turn, turn, Master Joker, lest
I strike you behind!"

"Strike me!" said the other, turning on his heels, and surveying the
young man with as much astonishment as contempt. "Why, my good fellow,
you must be mad!" Then, in a suppressed tone, as if speaking to himself,
"Thi