s, _mordioux_, to yours. But--an instant--not in this cider. It
is an abominable drink, unworthy of a man who quenches his thirst at the
Hippocrene fountain--is not it so you call your fountain, you poets?"

"Yes, monsieur, our fountain is so called. That comes from two Greek
words--_hippos_, which means a horse, and--"

"Monsieur," interrupted D'Artagnan, "you shall drink of a liquor which
comes from one single French word, and is none the worse for that--from
the word _grape_; this cider gives me the heartburn. Allow me to inquire
of your host if there is not a good bottle of Beaugency, or of the Ceran
growth, at the back of the large bins in his cellar."

The host, being sent for, immediately attended.

"Monsieur," interrupted the poet, "take care, we shall not have time to
drink the wine, unless we make great haste, for I must take advantage of
the tide to secure the boat."

"What boat?" asked D'Artagnan.

"Why the boat which sets out for Belle-Isle."

"Ah--for Belle-Isle," said the musketeer, "that is good."

"Bah! you will have plenty of time, monsieur," replied the _hotelier_,
uncorking the bottle, "the boat will not leave this hour."

"But who will give me notice?" said the poet.

"Your fellow-traveler," replied the host.

"But I scarcely know him."

"When you hear him departing, it will be time for you to go."

"Is he going to Belle-Isle, likewise, then?"

"Yes."

"The traveler who has a lackey?" asked D'Artagnan. "He is some
gentleman, no doubt?"

"I know nothing of him."

"What!--know nothing of him?"

"No, all I know is, that he is drinking the same wine as you."

"_Peste!_--that is a great honor for us," said D'Artagnan, filling his
companion's glass, whilst the host went out.

"So," resumed the poet, returning to his dominant ideas, "you never saw
any printing done?"

"Never."

"Well, then, take the letters thus, which compose the word, you see:
A B; _ma foi!_ here is an R, two E E, then a G." And he assembled the
letters with a swiftness and skill which did not escape the eye of
D'Artagnan.

"_Abrege_," said he, as he ended.

"Good!" said D'Artagnan; "here are plenty of letters got together; but
how are they kept so?" And he poured out a second glass for the poet.
M. Jupenet smiled like a man who has an answer for everything; then he
pulled out--still from his pocket--a little metal ruler, composed of two
parts, like a carpenter's rule, against which he put together, and in