n officer
belonging to the palace, but was, on the contrary, a quiet, easy-going
citizen in a state of stagnation between his dinner and supper, or
between his supper and his bed; one of those strong, ossified brains,
which have no more room for a single idea, so fiercely does animal
matter keep watch at the doors of intelligence, narrowly inspecting the
contraband trade which might result from the introduction into the brain
of a symptom of thought. We have already said night was closing in, the
shops were being lighted, while the windows of the upper apartments were
being closed, and the irregular steps of a patrol of soldiers forming
the night-watch could be heard in the distance. D'Artagnan continued,
however, to think of nothing, and to look at nothing, except the blue
corner of the sky. A few paces from him, completely in the shade, lying
on his stomach, upon a sack of Indian corn, was Planchet, with both his
arms under his chin, and his eyes fixed on D'Artagnan, who was either
thinking, dreaming, or sleeping, with his eyes open. Planchet had been
watching him for a tolerably long time, and, by way of interruption, he
began by exclaiming, "Hum! hum!" But D'Artagnan did not stir. Planchet
then saw that it was necessary to have recourse to a more effectual
means still. After a prolonged reflection on the subject, the most
ingenious means which suggested itself to him under present
circumstances was to let himself roll off the sack on to the floor,
murmuring at the same time, against himself, the word "stupid." But
notwithstanding the noise produced by Planchet's fall, D'Artagnan, who
had in the course of his existence heard many other, and very different
noises, did not appear to pay the least attention to the present one.
Besides, an enormous cart, laden with stones passing from La Rue
Saint-Mederie, absorbed, in the noise of its wheels, the noise of
Planchet's fall. And yet Planchet fancied that, in token of tacit
approval, he saw him imperceptibly smile at the word "stupid." This
emboldened him to say, "Are you asleep, Monsieur d'Artagnan?"

"No, Planchet, I am not _even_ asleep," replied the musketeer.

"I am in despair," said Planchet, "to hear such a word as _even_."

"Well, and why not? Is it not a good French word, Monsieur Planchet?"

"Of course, Monsieur d'Artagnan."

"Well?"

"Well, then, the word distresses me beyond measure."

"Tell me why you are distressed, Planchet," said D'Artagnan.

"If yo