, as our great cardinal--our cardinal did--of the miser, who weighs
his gold pieces and keeps the clipped ones for fear, though he is rich,
of losing them at play next morning--of the impudent fellow who insults
the queen, as they say--so much the worse for her--and who is going
in three months to make war upon us, in order that he may retain his
pensions; is that the master whom you propose to me? I thank you,
D'Artagnan."

"You are more impetuous than you were," returned D'Artagnan. "Age has
warmed, not chilled your blood. Who informed you this was the master I
propose to you? Devil take it," he muttered to himself, "don't let me
betray my secrets to a man not inclined to entertain them."

"Well, then," said Athos, "what are your schemes? what do you propose?"

"Zounds! nothing more than natural. You live on your estate, happy in
golden mediocrity. Porthos has, perhaps, sixty thousand francs income.
Aramis has always fifty duchesses quarreling over the priest, as they
quarreled formerly over the musketeer; but I--what have I in the world?
I have worn my cuirass these twenty years, kept down in this inferior
rank, without going forward or backward, hardly half living. In fact,
I am dead. Well! when there is some idea of being resuscitated, you say
he's a scoundrel, an impudent fellow, a miser, a bad master! By Jove!
I am of your opinion, but find me a better one or give me the means of
living."

Athos was for a few moments thoughtful.

"Good! D'Artagnan is for Mazarin," he said to himself.

From that moment he grew very guarded.

On his side D'Artagnan became more cautious also.

"You spoke to me," Athos resumed, "of Porthos; have you persuaded him to
seek his fortune? But he has wealth, I believe, already."

"Doubtless he has. But such is man, we always want something more than
we already have."

"What does Porthos wish for?"

"To be a baron."

"Ah, true! I forgot," said Athos, laughing.

"'Tis true!" thought the Gascon, "where has he heard it? Does he
correspond with Aramis? Ah! if I knew that he did I should know all."

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Raoul.

"Is our little neighbor worse?" asked D'Artagnan, seeing a look of
vexation on the face of the youth.

"Ah, sir!" replied Raoul, "her fall is a very serious one, and without
any ostensible injury, the physician fears she will be lame for life."

"This is terrible," said Athos.

"And what makes me all the more wretched,