with thee and a hunting-knife."

"Are we then going to travel, my lord?" asked Mousqueton, rather uneasy.

"Something better still, Mouston."

"An expedition, sir?" asked the steward, whose roses began to change
into lilies.

"We are going to return to the service, Mouston," replied Porthos, still
trying to restore his mustache to the military curl it had long lost.

"Into the service--the king's service?" Mousqueton trembled; even his
fat, smooth cheeks shook as he spoke, and he looked at D'Artagnan with
an air of reproach; he staggered, and his voice was almost choked.

"Yes and no. We shall serve in a campaign, seek out all sorts of
adventures--return, in short, to our former life."

These last words fell on Mousqueton like a thunderbolt. It was those
very terrible old days that made the present so excessively delightful,
and the blow was so great he rushed out, overcome, and forgot to shut
the door.

The two friends remained alone to speak of the future and to build
castles in the air. The good wine which Mousqueton had placed before
them traced out in glowing drops to D'Artagnan a fine perspective,
shining with quadruples and pistoles, and showed to Porthos a blue
ribbon and a ducal mantle; they were, in fact, asleep on the table when
the servants came to light them to their bed.

Mousqueton was, however, somewhat consoled by D'Artagnan, who the next
day told him that in all probability war would always be carried on in
the heart of Paris and within reach of the Chateau du Vallon, which was
near Corbeil, or Bracieux, which was near Melun, and of Pierrefonds,
which was between Compiegne and Villars-Cotterets.

"But--formerly--it appears," began Mousqueton timidly.

"Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "we don't now make war as we did formerly. To-day
it's a sort of diplomatic arrangement; ask Planchet."

Mousqueton inquired, therefore, the state of the case of his old friend,
who confirmed the statement of D'Artagnan. "But," he added, "in this war
prisoners stand a chance of being hung."

"The deuce they do!" said Mousqueton; "I think I should like the siege
of Rochelle better than this war, then!"

Porthos, meantime, asked D'Artagnan to give him his instructions how to
proceed on his journey.

"Four days," replied his friend, "are necessary to reach Blois; one
day to rest there; three or four days to return to Paris. Set out,
therefore, in a week, with your suite, and go to the Hotel de la
Chevrette, Rue Tique