in a tolerably civil manner.

"The captain of the musketeers will excuse me, I am sure, for I am
engaged."

"Eh! yes, on the king's costumes; I know that, my dear Monsieur
Percerin. You are making three, they tell me."

"Five, my dear monsieur, five."

"Three or five, 'tis all the same to me, my dear monsieur; and I know
that you will make them most exquisitely."

"Yes, I know. Once made, they will be the most beautiful in the world, I
do not deny it; but that they may be the most beautiful in the world,
they must first be made; and to do this, captain, I am pressed for
time."

"Oh, bah! there are two days yet; 'tis much more than you require,
Monsieur Percerin," said D'Artagnan, in the coolest possible manner.

Percerin raised his head with the air of a man little accustomed to be
contradicted, even in his whims; but D'Artagnan did not pay the least
attention to the airs which the illustrious tailor began to assume.

"My dear M. Percerin," he continued, "I bring you a customer."

"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Percerin, crossly.

"M. le Baron de Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds," continued
D'Artagnan.

Percerin attempted a bow, which found no favor in the eyes of the
terrible Porthos, who, from his first entry into the room, had been
regarding the tailor askance.

"A very good friend of mine," concluded D'Artagnan.

"I will attend to monsieur," said Percerin, "but later."

"Later? but when?"

"When I have time."

"You have already told my valet as much," broke in Porthos,
discontentedly.

"Very likely," said Percerin; "I am nearly always pushed for time."

"My friend," returned Porthos, sententiously, "there is always time when
one chooses to find it."

Percerin turned crimson, a very ominous sign indeed in old men blanched
by age. "Monsieur is very free to confer his custom elsewhere."

"Come, come, Percerin," interposed D'Artagnan, "you are not in a good
temper to-day. Well, I will say one more word to you, which will bring
you on your knees; monsieur is not only a friend of mine, but more, a
friend of M. Fouquet's."

"Ah! ah!" exclaimed the tailor, "that is another thing." Then, turning
to Porthos, "Monsieur le Baron is attached to the surintendant?" he
inquired.

"I am attached to myself," shouted Porthos, at the very moment that the
tapestry was raised to introduce a new speaker in the dialogue. Moliere
was all observation, D'Artagnan laughed, Porthos swore.

"My dear Percerin," said D'Artagnan