at fatigue, my friend?"

"Nothing good, as you will see: for having set out, complaining still of
the weakness of his legs, he met a wild boar, which made head against
him; he missed him with his arquebuse, and was ripped up by the beast,
and died directly."

"There is no reason in that why you should alarm yourself, dear
Porthos."

"Oh! you will see. My father was as strong again as I am. He was a rough
soldier under Henry III. and Henry IV.; his name was not Antoine, but
Gaspard, the same as M. de Coligny. Always on horseback, he had never
known what lassitude was. One evening, as he rose from table, his legs
failed him."

"He had supped heartily, perhaps," said Aramis, "and that was why he
staggered."

"Bah! A friend of M. de Bassompierre, nonsense! No, no, he was
astonished at feeling this lassitude, and said to my mother, who laughed
at him, 'Would not one believe I was going to meet with a wild boar, as
the late M. de Valon, my father, did?

"Well?" said Aramis.

"Well! having this weakness, my father insisted upon going down into the
garden, instead of going to bed; his foot slipped on the first stair:
the staircase was steep: my father fell against a stone angle in which
an iron hinge was fixed. The hinge opened his temple; and he lay dead
upon the spot."

Aramis raised his eyes to his friend: "These are two extraordinary
circumstances," said he; "let us not infer that there may succeed a
third. It is not becoming in a man of your strength to be superstitious,
my brave Porthos. Besides, when were your leg's seen to fail? Never have
you been so firm, so superb: why, you could carry a house on your
shoulders."

"At this moment," said Porthos, "I feel myself pretty active; but at
times I vacillate, I sink; and lately this phenomenon, as you say, has
occurred four times. I will not say that this frightens me, but it
annoys me. Life is an agreeable thing. I have money; I have fine
estates; I have horses that I love; I have also friends I love:
D'Artagnan, Athos, Raoul and you."

The admirable Porthos did not even take the trouble to dissimulate to
Aramis the rank he gave him in his friendship. Aramis pressed his hand:
"We will still live many years," said he, "to preserve in the world
specimens of rare men. Trust yourself to me, my friend; we have no reply
from D'Artagnan, that is a good sign. He must have given orders to get
the vessels together and clear the seas. On my part, I have just issued
direc