politeness. Saint-Aignan desired the
servant to give Porthos a chair; and the latter, who saw nothing unusual
in this act of politeness, sat down gravely and coughed. The ordinary
courtesies having been exchanged between the two gentlemen, the comte,
to whom the visit was paid, said, "May I ask, monsieur le baron, to what
happy circumstance I am indebted for the favor of a visit from you?"

"The very thing I am about to have the honor of explaining to you,
monsieur le comte; but, I beg your pardon--"

"What is the matter, monsieur?" inquired Saint-Aignan.

"I regret to say that I have broken your chair."

"Not at all, monsieur," said Saint-Aignan; "not at all."

"It is the fact, though, monsieur le comte; I have broken it--so much
so, indeed, that if I do not move, I shall fall down, which would be an
exceedingly disagreeable position for me in the discharge of the very
serious mission which has been intrusted to me with regard to yourself."

Porthos rose; and but just in time, for the chair had given way several
inches. Saint-Aignan looked about him for something more solid for his
guest to sit upon.

"Modern articles of furniture," said Porthos, while the comte was
looking about, "are constructed in a ridiculously flimsy manner. In my
early days, when I used to sit down with far more energy than is now the
case, I do not remember ever to have broken a chair, except in taverns,
with my arms."

Saint-Aignan smiled at this remark. "But," said Porthos, as he settled
himself down on a couch, which creaked, but did not give way beneath his
weight, "that unfortunately has nothing whatever to do with my present
visit."

"Why unfortunately? Are you the bearer of a message of ill-omen,
monsieur le baron?"

"Of ill-omen--for a gentleman? Certainly not, monsieur le comte,"
replied Porthos, nobly. "I have simply come to say that you have
seriously insulted a friend of mine."

"I, monsieur?" exclaimed Saint-Aignan--"I have insulted a friend of
yours, do you say? May I ask his name?"

"M. Raoul de Bragelonne."

"I have insulted M. Raoul de Bragelonne!" cried Saint-Aignan. "I really
assure you, monsieur, that it is quite impossible; for M. de Bragelonne,
whom I know but very slightly,--nay, whom I know hardly at all--is in
England, and, as I have not seen him for a long time past, I cannot
possibly have insulted him."

"M. de Bragelonne is in Paris, monsieur le comte," said Porthos,
perfectly unmoved; "and I repeat,