you go on getting thin in this way, I will take my sword in
my hand, and go straight to M. d'Herblay, and have it out with him."

"What!" said M. d'Artagnan, starting in his chair--"what's that you say?
And what has M. d'Herblay's name to do with your groceries?"

"Just as you please. Get angry if you like, or call me names, if you
prefer it: but the deuce is in it--I know what I know."

D'Artagnan had, during this second outburst of Planchet, so placed
himself as not to lose a single look of his face--that is, he sat with
both his hands resting on his knees, and his head stretched out toward
the grocer. "Come, explain yourself," he said, "and tell me how you
could possibly utter such a blasphemy. M. d'Herblay, your old master,
my friend, an ecclesiastic, a musketeer turned bishop--do you mean to
say you would raise your sword against him, Planchet?"

"I could raise my sword against my own father, when I see you in such a
state as you are now."

"M. d'Herblay, a gentleman!"

"It's all the same to me whether he's a gentleman or not. He gives you
the blue devils, that is all I know. And the blue devils make people get
thin. Malaga! I have no notion of M. d'Artagnan leaving my house thinner
than he entered it."

"How does he give me the blue devils, as you call it? Come, explain,
explain."

"You have had the nightmare during the last three nights."

"I?"

"Yes, you; and in your nightmare you called out, several times, 'Aramis,
sly Aramis!'"

"Ah! I said that, did I?" murmured D'Artagnan, uneasily.

"Yes, those very words, upon my honor."

"Well, what else? You know the saying, Planchet, 'dreams go by
contraries.'"

"Not so; for, every time during the last three days, when you went out,
you have not once failed to ask me, on your return, 'Have you seen M.
d'Herblay?' or else, 'Have you received any letters for me from M.
d'Herblay?'"

"Well, it is very natural I should take an interest in my old friend,"
said D'Artagnan.

"Of course; but not to such an extent as to get thin from it."

"Planchet, I'll get fatter: I give you my word of honor I will."

"Very well, monsieur, I accept it; for I know that when you give your
word of honor it is sacred."

"I will not dream of Aramis any longer; and I will never ask you, again,
if there are any letters from M. d'Herblay; but on condition that you
explain one thing to me."

"Tell me what it is, monsieur."

"I am a great observer; and just now, you made us