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Calling to Mouston, who was rolling happily on the cool grass, she went slowly into the house. With the poodle rushing round her she mounted thoughtfully the wide stairs and turned down the corridor leading to the studio. It seemed of all rooms the one best suited to her mood.
With a little shrug she turned to the tea table beside which Mouston was sitting up in eager expectation, watching the dancing kettle lid with solemn brown eyes. She made tea and then drew the dog close to her, hugging him with almost passionate fervour.
"That is true," said Mousqueton, glancing at his friend's long and thin body, "you will pass easily." "And he knows the full casks," said Blaisois, "for he has already been in the hold with Monsieur le Chevalier d'Artagnan. Let Monsieur Grimaud go in, Monsieur Mouston." "I could go in as well as Grimaud," said Mousqueton, a little piqued. "Yes, but that would take too much time and I am thirsty.
She had always loved animals, the possession of some dog had been an ardent desire, and she hugged the big black poodle now with a little sob. "Mouston, you pampered person, have you ever been lonely? Can you imagine what it is like to be made to feel that you belong to somebody again?"
Consider my joy when, one morning, I perceived Mouston was obliged to squeeze in, as I once did myself, to get through the little secret door that those fools of architects had made in the chamber of the late Madame du Vallon, in the chateau of Pierrefonds.
Were I to put them on, I should look like a fresh arrival from Siam; and as though I had been two years away from court." "I understand your difficulty. You have how many new suits? nine? thirty-six? and yet not one to wear. Well, you must have a thirty-seventh made, and give the thirty-six to Mouston." "Ah! monsieur!" said Mouston, with a gratified air.
"And you should call it 'Devotion," added Aramis; "the vineyard of self-sacrifice, to transmit to latest ages the recollection of your devotion to your master." "Chevalier," said D'Artagnan, laughing, "you could eat a piece of Mouston, couldn't you, especially after two or three days of fasting?" "Oh, no," replied Aramis, "I should much prefer Blaisois; we haven't known him so long."
"I congratulated myself, then," resumed Porthos, "at seeing Mouston get fat; and I did all I could, by means of substantial feeding, to make him stout always in the hope that he would come to equal myself in girth, and could then be measured in my stead." "Ah!" cried D'Artagnan. "I see that spared you both time and humiliation."
"Indeed! so well, that I have not discovered and joined you?" "Yes; but how did you discover and join me?" "Stop a bit. I was going to tell you how. Do you imagine Mouston " "Ah! it was that fellow, Mouston," said Porthos, gathering up those two triumphant arches which served him for eyebrows. "But stop, I tell you it was no fault of Mouston's because he was ignorant of where you were."
"And the legs of mutton of the salt marshes," said Porthos, smacking his lips. "But," suggested D'Artagnan, "have we not our friend Mousqueton, who managed for us so well at Chantilly, Porthos?" "Yes," said Porthos, "we have Mousqueton, but since he has been steward, he has become very heavy; never mind, let us call him, and to make sure that he will reply agreeably "Here! Mouston," cried Porthos.
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