which there was nothing but had its originality,
its reason, its genius, its beauty, nothing, but issued from the hand
of art, from the humblest dwelling with its painted and carved wooden
front, elliptical doorway, and overhanging stories, to the royal
Louvre, which then had a colonnade of towers.

ALEXANDRE DUMAS

Born in 1802, died in 1870; his father a French general, his
grandmother a negress; at first a writer of plays; active in
the Revolution of 1830; wrote books of travel and short
stories, a great number of novels, some of them in
collaboration with others; "Les Trois Mousquetaires"
published in 1844; "Monte Cristo" in 1844-45; "Le Reine
Margot" in 1845; wrote also historical sketches and
reminiscences; his son of the same name famous also as a
writer of books and a playwright.

THE SHOULDER, THE BELT, AND THE HANDKERCHIEF[59]

Furious with rage, D'Artagnan crossed the anteroom in three strides,
and began to descend the stairs four steps at a time, without looking
where he was going; when suddenly he was brought up short by knocking
violently against the shoulder of a musketeer who was leaving the
apartments of M. De Treville. The young man staggered backward from
the shock, uttering a cry, or rather a yell.

[Footnote 59: From "The Three Musketeers."]

"Excuse me," said D'Artagnan, trying to pass him, "but I am in a great
hurry."

He had hardly placed his foot on the next step, when he was stopt by
the grasp of an iron wrist on his sash.

"You are in a great hurry!" cried the musketeer, whose face was the
color of a shroud; "and you think that is enough apology for nearly
knocking me down? Not so fast, my young man. I suppose you imagine
that because you heard M. De Treville speaking to us rather brusquely
to-day, that everybody may treat us in the same way? But you are
mistaken, and it is as well you should learn that you are not M. De
Treville."

"Upon my honor," replied D'Artagnan, recognizing Athos, who was
returning to his room after having his wound drest, "upon my honor, it
was an accident, and therefore I begged your pardon. I should have
thought that was all that was necessary. I repeat that I am in a very
great hurry, and I should be much obliged if you would let me go my
way."

"Monsieur," said Athos, loosening his hold, "you are sadly lacking in
courtesy, and one sees that you must have had a rustic upbringing."

D'Artagna