nd thereupon he rose from his sack of Indian corn, stretching
himself, and making all his bones crack, one after the other, with a
sort of harmony.

"Planchet! Planchet!" exclaimed D'Artagnan, "I do declare that there is
no sybarite upon the face of the globe who can for a moment be compared
to you. Oh, Planchet, it is very clear that we have never yet eaten a
ton of salt together."

"Why so, monsieur?"

"Because, even now I can scarcely say I know you," said D'Artagnan, "and
because, in point of fact, I return to the opinion which, for a moment,
I had formed of you that day at Boulogne, when you strangled, or did so
as nearly as possible, M. de Wardes's valet, Lubin; in plain language,
Planchet, that you are a man of great resources."

Planchet began to laugh with a laugh full of self-conceit; bade the
musketeer good-night, and went down to his back shop, which he used as
a bedroom. D'Artagnan resumed his original position upon his chair, and
his brow, which had been unruffled for a moment, became more pensive
than ever. He had already forgotten the whims and dreams of Planchet.
"Yes," said he, taking up again the thread of his thoughts, which
had been broken by the whimsical conversation in which we have just
permitted our readers to participate. "Yes, yes, those three points
include everything: First, to ascertain what Baisemeaux wanted with
Aramis; secondly, to learn why Aramis does not let me hear from him; and
thirdly, to ascertain where Porthos is. The whole mystery lies in these
three points. Since, therefore," continued D'Artagnan, "our friends tell
us nothing, we must have recourse to our own poor intelligence. I must
do what I can, _mordioux_, or rather _Malaga_, as Planchet would say."

Chapter II. A Letter from M. Baisemeaux.

D'Artagnan, faithful to his plan, went the very next morning to pay
a visit to M. de Baisemeaux. It was cleaning up or tidying day at the
Bastile; the cannons were furbished up, the staircases scraped and
cleaned; and the jailers seemed to be carefully engaged in polishing
the very keys. As for the soldiers belonging to the garrison, they were
walking about in different courtyards, under the pretense that they were
clean enough. The governor, Baisemeaux, received D'Artagnan with more
than ordinary politeness, but he behaved towards him with so marked a
reserve of manner, that all D'Artagnan's tact and cleverness could not
get a syllable out of him. The more he kept himself w