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Mousqueton will lose another, that's five; and in five minutes we shall have galloped a quarter of a league." Aramis swallowed a hasty mouthful, gulped a glass of wine and changed his clothes. "Now," said he, "I'm off to the bishop's. Take care of the executioner, D'Artagnan." "All right. Grimaud has relieved Mousqueton and has his foot on the cellar door." "Well, don't be inactive."

"No; I only thought that a pretty mule makes sometimes as good an appearance as a horse, and it seemed to me that by getting a pretty mule for Mousqueton " "Well, agreed for a pretty mule," said Porthos; "you are right, I have seen very great Spanish nobles whose whole suite were mounted on mules. But then you understand, Madame Coquenard, a mule with feathers and bells."

"It is true," said Mousqueton, with a sigh of satisfaction, which emanated evidently from the justice which had been rendered him, "it is true I have made great progress in the company of monseigneur." "I am waiting for the distribution of the pleasures, Mousqueton, and with impatience. I want to know if I have arrived on a lucky day."

Noble Porthos! of what good now are thy chateaux overflowing with sumptuous furniture, forests overflowing with game, lakes overflowing with fish, cellars overflowing with wealth! Of what service to thee now thy lackeys in brilliant liveries, and in the midst of them Mousqueton, proud of the power delegated by thee!

He tried to pass his body through the aperture, but not being like the frog in the fable, who thought he was larger than he really was, he found he must take out three or four more before he could get through. He sighed and set to work again. Grimaud had now finished his accounts. He arose and stood near Mousqueton. "I," he said. "What?" said Mousqueton. "I can pass."

Those clothes were truly his own; they had been given to him; the hand of Mousqueton was stretched over these relics, which he was kissing with his lips, with all his face, and covered with his body. D'Artagnan approached to console the poor fellow. "My God!" said he, "he does not stir he has fainted!" But D'Artagnan was mistaken. Mousqueton was dead!

"True, monsieur," said Mousqueton; "and five hundred feet from here is a small hunting-house." "Mousqueton, thy pistols," said D'Artagnan. "I have them at hand, monsieur." "Porthos, take yours from your holsters." "I have them." "Good!" said D'Artagnan, seizing his own; "now you understand, Porthos?" "Not too well." "We are out on the king's service." "Well?"

In fact, Mousqueton had not concealed from his master that he had met d'Artagnan and Aramis, and that d'Artagnan in the yellow horse had recognized the Bearnese pony upon which he had come to Paris, and which he had sold for three crowns. Porthos went away after having appointed a meeting with the procurator's wife in the cloister of St. Magloire.

He rubbed his eyes, doubting if he really saw before him Athos and Aramis; and forced at last to yield to evidence, he was on the point of breaking forth in exclamations when he encountered a glance from the eyes of Porthos, the repressive force of which he was not inclined to dispute. Mousqueton remained glued to the door, awaiting the explanation of this strange occurrence.

"Mousqueton," said d'Artagnan, "you must render me a service." "What, monsieur?" "You must give your recipe to Planchet. I may be besieged in my turn, and I shall not be sorry for him to be able to let me enjoy the same advantages with which you gratify your master." "Lord, monsieur! There is nothing more easy," said Mousqueton, with a modest air. "One only needs to be sharp, that's all.