ave approved
of.

It was then Planchet's turn, and he unhesitatingly embraced the lady in
question--not, however, until he had made a sign as if requesting
D'Artagnan's and Porthos' permission, a permission which was, of course,
frankly conceded. D'Artagnan complimented Planchet, and said, "You are
indeed a man who knows how to make life agreeable."

"Life, monsieur," said Planchet, laughing, "is a capital which a man
ought to invest as sensibly as he possibly can."

"And you get very good interest for yours," said Porthos, with a burst
of laughter like a peal of thunder.

Planchet turned to his housekeeper. "You have before you," he said to
her, "the two men who have influenced no small portion of my life. I
have spoken to you about them both very frequently."

"And two others as well," said the lady, with a very decided Flemish
accent.

"Madame is Dutch?" inquired D'Artagnan. Porthos curled his mustache, a
circumstance which was not lost upon D'Artagnan, who remarked
everything.

"I am from Antwerp," said the lady.

"And her name is Madame Gechter," said Planchet.

"You should not call her madame," said D'Artagnan.

"Why not?" asked Planchet.

"Because it would make her seem older every time you call her so."

"Well, I call her Truechen."

"And a very pretty name too," said Porthos.

"Truechen," said Planchet, "came to me from Flanders with her virtue and
two thousand florins. She ran away from a brute of a husband, who was in
the habit of beating her. Being myself a Picard born, I was always very
fond of the Artesian women, and it is only a step from Artois to
Flanders. She came crying bitterly to her godfather, my predecessor in
the Rue des Lombards; she placed her two thousand florins in my
establishment, which I have turned to very good account, and which
bring her in ten thousand."

"Bravo, Planchet!"

"She is free and well off; she has a cow, a maid-servant, and old
Celestin at her orders. She mends my linen, knits my winter stockings.
She only sees me every fortnight, and seems anxious to make herself
happy."

"And I am very happy indeed," said Truechen, with perfect ingenuousness.

Porthos began to curl the other side of his mustache. "The deuce!"
thought D'Artagnan, "can Porthos have any intentions in that quarter?"

In the meantime, Truechen had set her cook to work, had laid the table
for two more, and covered it with every possible delicacy, which
converts a light supper into a su