ls in your hands."

"I must go; my horse is all in a fret," said D'Artagnan, with whom the
most manifest sign of a lively emotion was the change of ideas in a
conversation. "Come, comte, how many days longer has Raoul to stay
here?"

"Three days at most."

"And how long will it take you to reach home?"

"Oh! a considerable time," replied Athos. "I shall not like the idea of
being separated too quickly from Raoul. Time will travel too fast of
itself to require me to aid it by distance. I shall only make
half-stages."

"And why so, my friend? Nothing is more dull than traveling slowly; and
hostelry life does not become a man like you."

"My friend, I came hither on post-horses; but I wish to purchase two
animals of a superior kind. Now, to take them home fresh, it would not
be prudent to make them travel more than seven or eight leagues a day."

"Where is Grimaud?"

"He arrived yesterday morning, with Raoul's appointments; and I have
left him to sleep."

"That is, never to come back again," D'Artagnan suffered to escape him.
"Till we meet again, then, dear Athos--and if you are diligent, well, I
shall embrace you the sooner." So saying, he put his foot in the
stirrup, which Raoul held.

"Farewell!" said the young man, embracing him.

"Farewell!" said D'Artagnan, as he got into his saddle.

His horse made a movement which divided the cavalier from his friends.
This scene had taken place in front of the house chosen by Athos, near
the gates of Antibes, whither D'Artagnan, after his supper, had ordered
his horses to be brought. The road began to extend there, white and
undulating in the vapors of the night. The horse eagerly respired the
salt, sharp perfume of the marshes. D'Artagnan put him into a trot; and
Athos and Raoul sadly turned toward the house. All at once they heard
the rapid approach of a horse's steps, and at first believed it to be
one of those singular repercussions which deceive the ear at every turn
in a road. But it was really the return of the horseman. They uttered a
cry of joyous surprise; and the captain, springing to the ground like a
young man, seized within his arms the two beloved heads of Athos and
Raoul. He held them long embraced thus, without speaking a word, or
suffering the sigh which was bursting his breast to escape him. Then, as
rapidly as he had come back, he set off again, with a sharp application
of his spurs to the sides of his fiery horse.

"Alas!" said the comte, in a