A STOOL,
FORMED AN ANGLE OF THE MOST OBTUSE FORM THAT COULD POSSIBLY BE
SEEN.--_Page 88._]

"A poor Franciscan mendicant friar," replied the latter, "who had not
even a dog to love him in this world and to accompany him to his last
resting-place."

"If that were really the case," thought D'Artagnan, "we should not have
found Aramis present at his funeral. The bishop of Vannes is not
precisely a dog as far as devotion goes; his scent, however, is quite as
keen, I admit."

CHAPTER XIV.

HOW PORTHOS, TRUeCHEN, AND PLANCHET PARTED WITH EACH OTHER ON FRIENDLY
TERMS, THANKS TO D'ARTAGNAN.

There was good living in Planchet's house. Porthos broke a ladder and
two cherry-trees, stripped the raspberry-bushes, and was only unable to
succeed in reaching the strawberry-beds on account, as he said, of his
belt. Truechen, who had got quite sociable with the giant, said that it
was not the belt so much as his corporation; and Porthos, in a state of
the highest delight, embraced Truechen, who gathered him a handful of the
strawberries, and made him eat them out of her hand. D'Artagnan, who
arrived in the midst of these little innocent flirtations, scolded
Porthos for his indolence, and silently pitied Planchet. Porthos
breakfasted with a very good appetite, and when he had finished, he
said, looking at Truechen, "I could make myself very happy here." Truechen
smiled at his remark, and so did Planchet, but the latter not without
some embarrassment.

D'Artagnan then addressed Porthos--"You must not let the delights of
Capua make you forget the real object of our journey to Fontainebleau."

"My presentation to the king?"

"Certainly. I am going to take a turn in the town to get everything
ready for that. Do not think of leaving the house. I beg."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Porthos.

Planchet looked at D'Artagnan nervously. "Will you be away long?" he
inquired.

"No, my friend: and this very evening I will release you from two
troublesome guests."

"Oh! Monsieur d'Artagnan! can you say--"

"No, no; you are an excellent-hearted fellow, but your house is very
small. Such a house, with only a couple of acres of land, would be fit
for a king, and make him very happy, too. But you were not born a great
lord."

"No more was M. Porthos," murmured Planchet.

"But he has become so, my good fellow; his income has been a hundred
thousand francs a year for the last twenty years, and for the last fifty
years has been the owner