are always and everywhere received in France. He
was petted, tended, cured; and one fine morning, in better health than
ever before, he set out for France. Once in France he turned his course
toward Paris, and reaching Paris went straight to Rue Tiquetonne.

But D'Artagnan found in his chamber the personal equipment of a man,
complete, except for the sword, arranged along the wall.

"He has returned," said he. "So much the worse, and so much the better!"

It need not be said that D'Artagnan was still thinking of the husband.
He made inquiries and discovered that the servants were new and that the
mistress had gone for a walk.

"Alone?" asked D'Artagnan.

"With monsieur."

"Monsieur has returned, then?"

"Of course," naively replied the servant.

"If I had any money," said D'Artagnan to himself, "I would go away;
but I have none. I must stay and follow the advice of my hostess, while
thwarting the conjugal designs of this inopportune apparition."

He had just completed this monologue--which proves that in momentous
circumstances nothing is more natural than the monologue--when the
servant-maid, watching at the door, suddenly cried out:

"Ah! see! here is madame returning with monsieur."

D'Artagnan looked out and at the corner of Rue Montmartre saw the
hostess coming along hanging to the arm of an enormous Swiss, who
tiptoed in his walk with a magnificent air which pleasantly reminded him
of his old friend Porthos.

"Is that monsieur?" said D'Artagnan to himself. "Oh! oh! he has grown
a good deal, it seems to me." And he sat down in the hall, choosing a
conspicuous place.

The hostess, as she entered, saw D'Artagnan and uttered a little cry,
whereupon D'Artagnan, judging that he had been recognized, rose, ran to
her and embraced her tenderly. The Swiss, with an air of stupefaction,
looked at the hostess, who turned pale.

"Ah, it is you, monsieur! What do you want of me?" she asked, in great
distress.

"Is monsieur your cousin? Is monsieur your brother?" said D'Artagnan,
not in the slightest degree embarrassed in the role he was playing.
And without waiting for her reply he threw himself into the arms of the
Helvetian, who received him with great coldness.

"Who is that man?" he asked.

The hostess replied only by gasps.

"Who is that Swiss?" asked D'Artagnan.

"Monsieur is going to marry me," replied the hostess, between two gasps.

"Your husband, then, is at last dead?"

"How does that conce