for the third time, even less
deceived this time than before.

Percerin never moved. Aramis roused him violently, by snatching from his
hands the stuff upon which he was engaged. "My dear Percerin," said he,
"I have, near at hand, M. Lebrun, one of M. Fouquet's painters."

"Ah, very good," thought D'Artagnan; "but why 'Lebrun'?"

Aramis looked at D'Artagnan, who seemed to be occupied with an engraving
of Mark Antony. "And you wish to have made for him a dress, similar to
those of the Epicureans?" answered Percerin. And, while saying this, in
an absent manner, the worthy tailor endeavored to recapture his piece of
brocade.

"An Epicurean's dress?" asked D'Artagnan, in a tone of inquiry.

"I see," said Aramis, with a most engaging smile; "it is written that
our dear D'Artagnan shall know all our secrets this evening. Yes, my
friend, you have surely heard speak of M. Fouquet's Epicureans, have you
not?"

"Undoubtedly. Is it not a kind of poetical society, of which La
Fontaine, Loret, Pellisson, and Moliere are members, and which holds its
sittings at Saint-Mande?"

"Exactly so. Well, we are going to put our poets in uniform, and enroll
them in a regiment for the king."

"Oh, very well; I understand; a surprise M. Fouquet is getting up for
the king. Be at ease; if that is the secret about M. Lebrun, I will not
mention it."

"Always agreeable, my friend. No; Monsieur Lebrun has nothing to do with
this part of it; the secret which concerns him is far more important
than the other."

"Then, if it is so important as all that, I prefer not to know it," said
D'Artagnan, making a show of departure.

"Come in, M. Lebrun, come in!" said Aramis, opening a side-door with his
right hand, and holding back D'Artagnan with his left.

"I'faith, I, too, am quite in the dark," quoth Percerin.

Aramis took an "opportunity," as is said in theatrical matters.--"My
dear M. Percerin," Aramis continued, "you are making five dresses for
the king, are you not? One in brocade; one in hunting-cloth; one in
velvet; one in satin; and one in Florentine stuffs?"

"Yes; but how--do you know all that, monseigneur?" said Percerin,
astounded.

"It is all very simple, my dear monsieur; there will be a hunt, a
banquet, concert, promenade, and reception; these five kinds of dress
are required by etiquette."

"You know everything, monseigneur!"

"And a great many more things, too," murmured D'Artagnan.

"But," cried the tailor, in triumph,