ed at his old master in a significant manner.

"Oh, don't be uneasy, it is nothing unpleasant," said D'Artagnan.

"So much the better--so much the better!" And Planchet breathed freely
again, whilst D'Artagnan seated himself quietly down in the shop, upon
a bale of corks, and made a survey of the premises. The shop was well
stocked; there was a mingled perfume of ginger, cinnamon, and ground
pepper, which made D'Artagnan sneeze. The shop-boy, proud of being in
company with so renowned a warrior, of a lieutenant of musketeers, who
approached the person of the king, began to work with an enthusiasm
which was something like delirium, and to serve the customers with a
disdainful haste that was noticed by several.

Planchet put away his money, and made up his accounts, amidst civilities
addressed to his former master. Planchet had with his equals the
short speech and haughty familiarity of the rich shopkeeper who serves
everybody and waits for nobody. D'Artagnan observed this habit with
a pleasure which we shall analyze presently. He saw night come on by
degrees, and at length Planchet conducted him to a chamber on the first
story, where, amidst bales and chests, a table very nicely set out
awaited the two guests.

D'Artagnan took advantage of a moment's pause to examine the countenance
of Planchet, whom he had not seen for a year. The shrewd Planchet had
acquired a slight protuberance in front, but his countenance was not
puffed. His keen eye still played with facility in its deep-sunk orbit;
and fat, which levels all the characteristic saliences of the human
face, had not yet touched either his high cheek-bones, the sign of
cunning and cupidity, or his pointed chin, the sign of acuteness and
perseverance. Planchet reigned with as much majesty in his dining-room
as in his shop. He set before his master a frugal, but perfectly
Parisian repast: roast meat, cooked at the baker's, with vegetables,
salad, and a dessert borrowed from the shop itself. D'Artagnan was
pleased that the grocer had drawn from behind the fagots a bottle of
that Anjou wine which during all his life had been D'Artagnan's favorite
wine.

"Formerly, monsieur," said Planchet, with a smile full of _bonhomie_,
"it was I who drank your wine; now you do me the honor to drink mine."

"And, thank God, friend Planchet, I shall drink it for a long time to
come, I hope; for at present I am free."

"Free? You have a leave of absence, monsieur?"

"Unlimited."