" said Groslow.

"You see, then, why I must decline your polite invitation, which is
especially attractive to me, because nothing is so wearisome as to play
night after night with the same person; the chances always balance and
at the month's end nothing is gained or lost."

"Ah!" said Groslow, sighing; "there is something still more wearisome,
and that is not to play at all."

"I can understand that," said D'Artagnan.

"But, come," resumed the Englishman, "are these men of yours dangerous?"

"In what respect?"

"Are they capable of attempting violence?"

D'Artagnan burst out laughing at the idea.

"Jesus Dieu!" he cried; "one of them is trembling with fever, having
failed to adapt himself to this charming country of yours, and the other
is a knight of Malta, as timid as a young girl; and for greater security
we have taken from them even their penknives and pocket scissors."

"Well, then," said Groslow, "bring them with you."

"But really----" said D'Artagnan.

"I have eight men on guard, you know. Four of them can guard the king
and the other four your prisoners. I'll manage it somehow, you will
see."

"But," said D'Artagnan, "now I think of it--what is to prevent our
beginning to-night?"

"Nothing at all," said Groslow.

"Just so. Come to us this evening and to-morrow we'll return your
visit."

"Capital! This evening with you, to-morrow at Stuart's, the next day
with me."

"You see, that with a little forethought one can lead a merry life
anywhere and everywhere," said D'Artagnan.

"Yes, with Frenchmen, and Frenchmen like you."

"And Monsieur du Vallon," added the other. "You will see what a fellow
he is; a man who nearly killed Mazarin between two doors. They employ
him because they are afraid of him. Ah, there he is calling me now.
You'll excuse me, I know."

They exchanged bows and D'Artagnan returned to his companions.

"What on earth can you have been saying to that bulldog?" exclaimed
Porthos.

"My dear fellow, don't speak like that of Monsieur Groslow. He's one of
my most intimate friends."

"One of your friends!" cried Porthos, "this butcher of unarmed farmers!"

"Hush! my dear Porthos. Monsieur Groslow is perhaps rather hasty, it's
true, but at bottom I have discovered two good qualities in him--he is
conceited and stupid."

Porthos opened his eyes in amazement; Athos and Aramis looked at one
another and smiled; they knew D'Artagnan, and knew that he did nothing
without a purp