ill look upon it as an understood thing."

"Agreed, by all means."

"You will lend me one of your horses?"

"The best I have."

"No; I prefer the gentlest of all; I never was a very good rider, as you
know, and in my grocery business I have got more awkward than ever:
besides--"

"Besides what?"

"Why," added Planchet, "I do not wish to fatigue myself."

"Why so?" D'Artagnan ventured to ask.

"Because I should lose half the pleasure I expect to enjoy," replied
Planchet. And thereupon he rose from his sack of Indian corn, stretching
himself, and making all his bones crack, one after the other, with a
sort of harmony.

"Planchet, Planchet," exclaimed D'Artagnan, "I do declare that there is
no Sybarite upon the whole face of the globe who can for a moment be
compared to you. Oh, Planchet, it is very clear that we have never yet
eaten a ton of salt together."

"Why so, monsieur?"

"Because, even now I can scarcely say I know you," said D'Artagnan, "and
because, in point of fact, I return to the opinion which, for a moment,
I had formed of you on that day at Boulogne, when you strangled, or did
so as nearly as possible, M. de Wardes' valet, Lubin; in plain
language, Planchet, that you are a man of great resources."

Planchet began to laugh with a laugh full of self-conceit; bade the
musketeer good-night, and went downstairs to his back shop, which he
used as a bedroom. D'Artagnan resumed his original position upon his
chair, and his brow, which had been unruffled for a moment, became more
pensive than ever. He had already forgotten the whims and dreams of
Planchet. "Yes," said he, taking up again the thread of his thoughts,
which had been broken by the agreeable conversation in which we have
just permitted our readers to participate. "Yes, yes, those three points
include everything: First, to ascertain what Baisemeaux wanted with
Aramis; secondly, to learn why Aramis does not let me hear from him; and
thirdly, to ascertain where Porthos is. The whole mystery lies in these
three points. Since, therefore," continued D'Artagnan, "our friends tell
us nothing, we must have recourse to our own poor intelligence. I must
do what I can, mordioux, or rather Malaga, as Planchet would say."

CHAPTER IX.

A LETTER FROM M. DE BAISEMEAUX.

D'Artagnan, faithful to his plan, went the next morning to pay a visit
to M. de Baisemeaux. It was the cleaning up or tidying day at the
Bastille: the cannons were furbished u