rcely had this little piece of brass seen the light,
than the poet appeared to have committed an imprudence, and made a
movement to put it back again in his pocket. D'Artagnan perceived this,
for he was a man that nothing escaped. He stretched forth his hand
towards the piece of brass: "Humph! that which you hold in your hand is
pretty; will you allow me to look at it?"

"Certainly," said the poet, who appeared to have yielded too soon to a
first impulse. "Certainly, you may look at it: but it will be in vain
for you to look at it," added he, with a satisfied air; "if I were not
to tell you its use, you would never guess it."

D'Artagnan had seized as an avowal the hesitation of the poet, and
his eagerness to conceal the piece of brass which a first movement had
induced him to take out of his pocket. His attention, therefore, once
awakened on this point, he surrounded himself with a circumspection
which gave him a superiority on all occasions. Besides, whatever M.
Jupenet might say about it, by a simple inspection of the object, he
perfectly well knew what it was. It was a character in printing.

"Can you guess, now, what this is?" continued the poet.

"No," said D'Artagnan, "no, _ma foi!_"

"Well, monsieur," said M. Jupenet, "this little piece of metal is a
printing letter."

"Bah!"

"A capital."

"Stop, stop, stop," said D'Artagnan, opening his eyes very innocently.

"Yes, monsieur, a capital; the first letter of my name."

"And this is a letter, is it?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Well, I will confess one thing to you."

"And what is that?"

"No, I will not, I was going to say something stupid."

"No, no," said Master Jupenet, with a patronizing air.

"Well, then, I cannot comprehend, if that is a letter, how you can make
a word."

"A word?"

"Yes, a printed word."

"Oh, that's very easy."

"Let me see."

"Does it interest you?"

"Enormously."

"Well, I will explain the thing to you. Attend."

"I am attending."

"This is it."

"Good."

"Look attentively."

"I am looking." D'Artagnan, in fact, appeared absorbed in observations.
Jupenet drew from his pocket seven or eight other pieces of brass
smaller than the first.

"Ah, ah," said D'Artagnan.

"What!"

"You have, then, a whole printing-office in your pocket. _Peste!_ that
is curious, indeed."

"Is it not?"

"Good God, what a number of things we learn by traveling."

"To your health!" said Jupenet, quite enchanted.

"To your