of digestion."

"Egad," said D'Artagnan, "the park is like everything else and there
are as many fish in your pond as rabbits in your warren; you are a happy
man, my friend since you have not only retained your love of the chase,
but acquired that of fishing."

"My friend," replied Porthos, "I leave fishing to Mousqueton,--it is a
vulgar pleasure,--but I shoot sometimes; that is to say, when I am dull,
and I sit on one of those marble seats, have my gun brought to me, my
favorite dog, and I shoot rabbits."

"Really, how very amusing!"

"Yes," replied Porthos, with a sigh, "it is amusing."

D'Artagnan now no longer counted the sighs. They were innumerable.

"However, what had you to say to me?" he resumed; "let us return to that
subject."

"With pleasure," replied D'Artagnan; "I must, however, first frankly
tell you that you must change your mode of life."

"How?"

"Go into harness again, gird on your sword, run after adventures, and
leave as in old times a little of your fat on the roadside."

"Ah! hang it!" said Porthos.

"I see you are spoiled, dear friend; you are corpulent, your arm has no
longer that movement of which the late cardinal's guards have so many
proofs."

"Ah! my fist is strong enough I swear," cried Porthos, extending a hand
like a shoulder of mutton.

"So much the better."

"Are we then to go to war?"

"By my troth, yes."

"Against whom?"

"Are you a politician, friend?"

"Not in the least."

"Are you for Mazarin or for the princes?"

"I am for no one."

"That is to say, you are for us. Well, I tell you that I come to you
from the cardinal."

This speech was heard by Porthos in the same sense as if it had still
been in the year 1640 and related to the true cardinal.

"Ho! ho! What are the wishes of his eminence?"

"He wishes to have you in his service."

"And who spoke to him of me?"

"Rochefort--you remember him?"

"Yes, pardieu! It was he who gave us so much trouble and kept us on
the road so much; you gave him three sword-wounds in three separate
engagements."

"But you know he is now our friend?"

"No, I didn't know that. So he cherishes no resentment?"

"You are mistaken, Porthos," said D'Artagnan. "It is I who cherish no
resentment."

Porthos didn't understand any too clearly; but then we know that
understanding was not his strong point. "You say, then," he continued,
"that the Count de Rochefort spoke of me to the cardinal?"

"Yes, and the queen, to