t becoming in a gentleman
to borrow from his inferior, without returning to him principal and
interest. Well, I will sell La Fere if necessary, and if not, some
little farm. You shall pay Planchet, and there will be enough, believe
me, of corn left in my granaries for us two and Raoul. In this way, my
friend, you will be under obligations to nobody but yourself; and, if
I know you well, it will not be a small satisfaction to your mind to be
able to say, 'I have made a king!' Am I right?"

"Athos! Athos!" murmured D'Artagnan, thoughtfully, "I have told you
more than once that the day on which you will preach I shall attend the
sermon; the day on which you will tell me there is a hell--_Mordioux!_ I
shall be afraid of the gridiron and the pitch-forks. You are better than
I, or rather, better than anybody, and I only acknowledge the possession
of one quality, and that is, of not being jealous. Except that defect,
damme, as the English say, if I have not all the rest."

"I know no one equal to D'Artagnan," replied Athos; "but here we
are, having quietly reached the house I inhabit. Will you come in, my
friend?"

"Eh! why this is the tavern of the Corne du Cerf, I think," said
D'Artagnan.

"I confess I chose it on purpose. I like old acquaintances; I like to
sit down on that place, whereon I sank, overcome by fatigue, overwhelmed
by despair, when you returned on the 31st of January."

"After having discovered the abode of the masked executioner? Yes, that
was a terrible day!"

"Come in, then," said Athos, interrupting him.

They entered the large apartment, formerly the common one. The tavern,
in general, and this room in particular, had undergone great changes;
the ancient host of the musketeers, having become tolerably rich for an
innkeeper, had closed his shop, and make of this room of which we were
speaking, a store-room for colonial provisions. As for the rest of the
house, he let it ready furnished to strangers. It was with unspeakable
emotion D'Artagnan recognized all the furniture of the chamber of the
first story; the wainscoting, the tapestries, and even that geographical
chart which Porthos had so fondly studied in his moments of leisure.

"It is eleven years ago," cried D'Artagnan. "_Mordioux!_ it appears to
me a century!"

"And to me but a day," said Athos. "Imagine the joy I experience, my
friend, in seeing you there, in pressing your hand, in casting from me
sword and dagger, and tasting without mis