st of an evil life. Become a gallant man, Menneville, and live for
a year upon those hundred gold crowns: it is a good provision; twice
the pay of a high officer. In a year come to me, and, _Mordioux!_ I will
make something of you."

Menneville swore, as his comrades had sworn, that he would be as silent
as the grave. And yet some one must have spoken; and as, certainly, it
was not one of the nine companions, and quite as certainly, it was
not Menneville, it must have been D'Artagnan, who, in his quality of a
Gascon, had his tongue very near to his lips. For, in short, if it were
not he, who could it be? And how can it be explained that the secret of
the deal coffer pierced with holes should come to our knowledge, and
in so complete a fashion that we have, as has been seen, related the
history of it in all its most minute details; details which, besides,
throw a light as new as unexpected upon all that portion of the history
of England which has been left, up to the present day, completely in
darkness by the historian of our neighbors?

Chapter XXXVIII. In which it is seen that the French Grocer had already
been established in the Seventeenth Century.

His accounts once settled, and his recommendations made, D'Artagnan
thought of nothing but returning to Paris as soon as possible. Athos, on
his part, was anxious to reach home and to rest a little. However whole
the character and the man may remain after the fatigues of a voyage, the
traveler perceives with pleasure, at the close of the day--even though
the day has been a fine one--that night is approaching, and will bring
a little sleep with it. So, from Boulogne to Paris, jogging on, side by
side, the two friends, in some degree absorbed each in his individual
thoughts, conversed of nothing sufficiently interesting for us to repeat
to our readers. Each of them given up to his personal reflections, and
constructing his future after his own fashion, was, above all, anxious
to abridge the distance by speed. Athos and D'Artagnan arrived at the
gates of Paris on the evening of the fourth day after leaving Boulogne.

"Where are you going, my friend?" asked Athos. "I shall direct my course
straight to my hotel."

"And I straight to my partner's."

"To Planchet's?"

"Yes; at the Pilon d'Or."

"Well, but shall we not meet again?"

"If you remain in Paris, yes; for I shall stay here."

"No: after having embraced Raoul, with whom I have appointed a meeting
at my h