is it?" inquired Porthos, looking all round him as if in search of
the circumstance that annoyed Planchet, and desirous of freeing him from
it.

"Why, formerly," said the grocer, "you used to call me Planchet, quite
short, and you would have spoken to me then in a much more familiar
manner than you do now."

"Certainly, certainly. I should have said so formerly," replied the
good-natured Porthos, with an embarrassment full of delicacy; "but
formerly--"

"Formerly I was M. d'Artagnan's lackey; is not that what you mean?"

"Yes."

"Well, if I am not quite his lackey, I am as much as ever I was his
devoted servant; and more than that, since that time--"

"Well, Planchet?"

"Since that time, I have had the honor of being in partnership with
him."

"Oh, oh!" said Porthos. "What, has D'Artagnan gone into the grocery
business?"

"No, no," said D'Artagnan, whom these words had drawn out of his
reverie, and who entered into the conversation with that readiness and
rapidity which distinguished every operation of his mind and body. "It
was not D'Artagnan who entered into the grocery business, but Planchet,
who entered into a political affair with me."

"Yes," said Planchet, with mingled pride and satisfaction, "we
transacted a little matter of business which brought me in a hundred
thousand francs, and M. d'Artagnan two hundred thousand."

"Oh, oh!" said Porthos, with admiration.

"So that, Monsieur le Baron," continued the grocer, "I again beg you to
be kind enough to call me Planchet, as you used to do; and to speak to
me as familiarly as in old times. You cannot possibly imagine the
pleasure that it would give me."

"If that be the case, my dear Planchet, I will do so, certainly,"
replied Porthos. And as he was quite close to Planchet, he raised his
hand, as if to strike him on the shoulder, in token of friendly
cordiality; but a fortunate movement of the horse made him miss his aim,
so that his hand fell on the crupper of Planchet's horse, instead; which
made the animal's legs almost give way.

D'Artagnan burst out laughing, as he said, "Take care, Planchet; for if
Porthos begins to like you too much, he will caress you; and if he
caresses you, he will knock you as flat as a pancake. Porthos is still
as strong as ever, you know."

"Oh," said Planchet, "Mousqueton is not dead, and yet Monsieur le Baron
is very fond of him."

"Certainly," said Porthos, with a sigh which made all the three horses
rear; "and