at the devil brings Porthos to Belle-Isle, lifting stones?" said
D'Artagnan; only D'Artagnan uttered that question in a low voice. Less
strong in diplomacy than his friend, Porthos thought aloud.

"How the devil did you come to Belle-Isle?" asked he of D'Artagnan;
"and what do you want to do here?" It was necessary to reply without
hesitation. To hesitate in answer to Porthos would have been a check,
for which the self-love of D'Artagnan would never have consoled itself.

"_Pardieu!_ my friend, I am at Belle-Isle because you are here."

"Ah, bah!" said Porthos, visibly stupefied with the argument and seeking
to account for it to himself, with the felicity of deduction we know to
be particular to him.

"Without doubt," continued D'Artagnan, unwilling to give his friend time
to recollect himself, "I have been to see you at Pierrefonds."

"Indeed!"

"Yes."

"And you did not find me there?"

"No, but I found Mouston."

"Is he well?"

"_Peste!_"

"Well, but Mouston did not tell you I was here."

"Why should he _not?_ Have I, perchance, deserved to lose his
confidence?"

"No; but he did not know it."

"Well; that is a reason at least that does not offend my self-love."

"Then how did you manage to find me?"

"My dear friend, a great noble like you always leaves traced behind him
on his passage; and I should think but poorly of myself, if I were not
sharp enough to follow the traces of my friends." This explanation,
flattering as it was, did not entirely satisfy Porthos.

"But I left no traces behind me, for I came here disguised," said
Porthos.

"Ah! You came disguised did you?" said D'Artagnan.

"Yes."

"And how?"

"As a miller."

"And do you think a great noble, like you, Porthos, can affect common
manners so as to deceive people?"

"Well, I swear to you my friend, that I played my part so well that
_everybody_ was deceived."

"Indeed! so well, that I have not discovered and joined you?"

"Yes; but _how_ did you discover and join me?"

"Stop a bit. I was going to tell you how. Do you imagine Mouston--"

"Ah! it was that fellow, Mouston," said Porthos, gathering up those two
triumphant arches which served him for eyebrows.

"But stop, I tell you--it was no fault of Mouston's because he was
ignorant of where you were."

"I know he was; and that is why I am in such haste to understand--"

"Oh! how impatient you are, Porthos."

"When I do not comprehend, I am terrible."

"Well, you wi