h a nail
at the end of it, with which he urged on his slow team, was walking with
the cart.

"Ho! friend," cried Planchet.

"What's your pleasure, gentlemen?" replied the peasant, with a purity of
accent peculiar to the people of that district and which might have
put to shame the cultured denizens of the Sorbonne and the Rue de
l'Universite.

"We are looking for the house of Monsieur de la Fere," said D'Artagnan.

The peasant took off his hat on hearing this revered name.

"Gentlemen," he said, "the wood that I am carting is his; I cut it in
his copse and I am taking it to the chateau."

D'Artagnan determined not to question this man; he did not wish to hear
from another what he had himself said to Planchet.

"The chateau!" he said to himself, "what chateau? Ah, I understand!
Athos is not a man to be thwarted; he, like Porthos, has obliged his
peasantry to call him 'my lord,' and to dignify his pettifogging place
by the name of chateau. He had a heavy hand--dear old Athos--after
drinking."

D'Artagnan, after asking the man the right way, continued his route,
agitated in spite of himself at the idea of seeing once more that
singular man whom he had so truly loved and who had contributed so much
by advice and example to his education as a gentleman. He checked by
degrees the speed of his horse and went on, his head drooping as if in
deep thought.

Soon, as the road turned, the Chateau de la Valliere appeared in view;
then, a quarter of a mile beyond, a white house, encircled in sycamores,
was visible at the farther end of a group of trees, which spring had
powdered with a snow of flowers.

On beholding this house, D'Artagnan, calm as he was in general, felt
an unusual disturbance within his heart--so powerful during the
whole course of life are the recollections of youth. He proceeded,
nevertheless, and came opposite to an iron gate, ornamented in the taste
of the period.

Through the gate was seen kitchen-gardens, carefully attended to, a
spacious courtyard, in which neighed several horses held by valets in
various liveries, and a carriage, drawn by two horses of the country.

"We are mistaken," said D'Artagnan. "This cannot be the establishment
of Athos. Good heavens! suppose he is dead and that this property now
belongs to some one who bears his name. Alight, Planchet, and inquire,
for I confess that I have scarcely courage so to do."

Planchet alighted.

"Thou must add," said D'Artagnan, "that a ge